I waited.
And waited.
And kept waiting.
The sense of being tied down had vanished without me noticing. The feeling had... grown to wrap around my arms. It crawled it's way over my chest and neck. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't even move around. My head was stuck facing forward, my body... I still couldn't see or feel my body. It felt like it was still there, but invisible.
The waiting didn't stop. Neither did the cold and hot sensations. They rose over my head, covering either side of my face. It felt like another piece of nostalgia in this weird trip I was on. Standing in front of Lou and Mike while they bickered and threw their essences at insults at each other. It felt like an intensified version of that.
I missed them.
It was... very quiet here.
I couldn't even speak. In the most literal sense of it, I was a statue.
Even trying to sleep wasn't possible. My eyes wouldn't close. I was stuck here in this eternal mind palace that was my old bar.
Maybe this was hell.
Loneliness is it's own form of torture after all. And if it's not the loneliness, being stuck, physically and mentally is.
There was a word for a middle ground, wasn't there? Some place between living and death. Is this it?
Pur... Purgatory?
If it is, it is rather boring.
I would say there are worse places to be, however I haven't seen them yet. I'm not sure if I want to. It would get me out of here. But I'd rather not be stuck in a worse version of this.
Or maybe it'd just stay the same.
The same bar. But fire and brimstone all around. Everything on fire. Glowing red embers and used charcoal. Smoke lining the ceilings with that weird crackling sound fire made. Something that warm, hot, sweltering... it would require a nice drink.
A highball glass filled with ice cubes. Some nice cool colours. A splash of blueberry syrup at the bottom. The rest filled with a mix of vodka, maybe some sweet soda. A sprig of mint at the top for a little colour. I could imagine the colour gradient. The dark blue slightly diluted by the clear liquor, and then turning clear and carbonated on the way up. The green leaf resting on the clear ice cubes floating on the top beside a straw... maybe a stirrer?
It's such a pretty drink. Maybe a different glass? No. No other glass would suit the colours.
Ah, but what if I had the wrong idea of hell? And it was just... hellishly cold? Hah, nice one, me.
Hmm... coffee. Irish coffee. Strong espresso, some Irish cre- no, Amaretto? Grand Marnier? Kahlúa? No, think sweeter. Chocolate liqueur... maybe butterscotch schnapps? That's what I need the espresso for. To balance out the sweetness from those two.
If it's cold and freezing, I might not have a lot of movement left in my fingers. The simplest drink for warmth... Brandy.
There's really nothing like warm water with a snifter of brandy to soothe the throat, get rid of the shivers. It sounds amazing.
It reminds me of this one drink a coworker once made. She'd used a jug of store-bought apple cider- warmed it, and spiked it with caramel infused vodka. It was so good. I'd made it for myself quite a few times after but I'd forgotten about it. It's been a while. I have to make some of that.
Hadn't I also promised Mike a hot chocolate? What would he like? Was he was a small marshmallows guy? Or maybe liked big marshmallows. A ton of whipped cream and some chocolate shavings. But he's a bit of a no-nonsense guy, so maybe no whipped cream. He'd want to get straight into the drink. His alcohol of choice was tequila after all.
Lou? Lou would like... definitely not a plain hot chocolate kind of guy. He's lived his 'life' and he knows what he does and doesn't like. Plain doesn't seem to fit in his dictionary. A... Casino Coffee? I think that was the name of the drink.
Brandy, dark crème de cacao, Amaretto, black coffee... or was it espresso again? And then whipped cream and chocolate shavings for a garnish.
Man, I've forgotten so much. I should brush up on what all is out there when I wake up.
When... would I wake up?
If I did, that is.
But it's not like there's a better life for me if I do.
I've probably been gone for a few days. Gray is dead. Maya and Sie- Sara and Sylvia are dead. There's no one left to run the place. The Jamesons' were probably wondering why there's been no update from me. In fact, they're probably not the only ones expecting updates.
Cloud had killed one... two... seven Hunters, including Sara and Sylvia. If this was a town of Hunters, or a place where Hunters go to retire or whatever, there will be others. Others who knew who I am, who knew what was happening to Lou and Mike, who knew what was to happen to me.
But what would happen to me if I return? If I just show up the next day in town, sauntering through it, talking to friends, picking up groceries, going on dat-
Oh my god, Richard.
I vanished from his doorstep. The bar is empty too. How will he-who will he-I feel so guilty.
If I could've groaned and clutched my head, I would've. It was the perfect moment for it. I should have never agreed to date him. Just slept with him and forgot about it.
But that dinner he'd invited me to... would've been so good right now.
I couldn't feel hunger or thirst. But I was starving. Or I remembered starving when I was alive... awake... Was I dead?
Not being able to express emotions was frustrating. I'd never wanted to sigh so hard. No matter how I distracted myself it came back to one thing.
My eyes went over the shelves once more. Shelves I'd meticulously stocked for the eight months I'd worked there. Shelves I'd been watching for what felt like several hours now. I was tired of it.
The hot and the cold had suffused my body. I didn't know what to think of it. I didn't know what it even was.
I just wanted out.
My eyes turned towards the shelves once more. They were blurry. They hadn't been blurry earlier.
I tried to shake my head to clear my vision, but I still couldn't move. My vision was getting blurrier. The wall of drinks that was only a few feet away was a mess of colours now. It vanished within a few more moments, only the yellowish-white ambient lighting of he bar surrounding me.
I felt my head jerk to the side as a twinge of pain passed through my head. I could... I could feel my he-
A pained gasp escaped me as it happened again, from the other side of my head this time. My vision completed faded out, my eyes starting to burn. I recognised this pain. This sharp intensity was familiar again.
My head fell back up to the ceiling, hands regaining that tied sensation as I tried to raise them. It hurt. It hurt from the inside of my head. Like sharp needles poking all around my eyeball.
Something cold slid down my face, dripping at the same pace from both eyes. Tears? Probably. This stung like a bitch.
The needle sensation was intensifying. And I couldn't even close my eyes. All I could was stare up at the ceiling as I cried, my face contorted into one of pain as I begged and pleaded into what felt like the silence. It didn't stop. After a while I went quiet. Speaking into the silence seemed to amplify the emptiness. The pain made me forget about it while it lasted.
I bit my lip as I suffered through it. It would've been exhausting if I could feel exhausted.
The pain took a long time to fade away. It felt about the same as the time I'd been stuck here. But so did everything else.
When the pain faded away, I was still staring up at the ceiling. But there was no ceiling. Nothing but the same soft ambient light.
My head twisted in its spot, realising the entire place had faded away from my vision and stayed that way. There was nothing solid around me. There was nothing around me again. Looking down, I realised while I could move my head around, my body was still glued to the spot. There was still the feeling of being tied down. I've realised something though.
I don't like being tied down.
Irritation crossed through me. The emotion sent a twinge of pain through my head. I ignored it, starting to pull on... something. Anything. I'm going. I'm leaving. Somewhere, anywhere. But I can't handle this shitty light anymore. If the bar had been mine, I'd have changed those yellow, musty bulbs ages ago. Shitty colour gave me a headache sometimes. But I didn't get paid enough to think about stuff like that. Everytime I pulled up something about it to Carl, he'd brush it off.
I'd given up after a while too. The bar wasn't earning what it used to back in it's heyday. Running it— the operating costs, the purchases, the repairs- it had been barely limping by. Any money thay came from it, went to his medical expenses. Yet he paid us a lot more than market average... despite needing the money.
A yell of frustration escaped me as I kept tugging. There was no give. It was like being tied to a block of cement underwater. Under a lake perhaps. There was no current in the blankness. No place where I could follow it to leave. No glaring red 'EXIT' signs to follow.
"Get me out." I gritted my teeth, pulling harder and harder. The frustration was getting to me. "Get me out." My chest was caving in. I could feel now. I could feel my invisible chest caving in, my gut curling tight as the possibility of being... of being...
"NO!" A yell burst out of me, cutting off the train of thought. It wasn't going anywhere useful anyway.
"GET ME OUT!" I screamed, the intensity of the frustration and the volume of it made my surroundings flicker.
The illusion around me broke. The bubble of light around me cracking to show an intense darkness.
My heart lurched in my chest. The darkness was scary. It seemed like a lot more nothing. A kind of nothing with even less there than here. I stopped tugging, glancing around once more. There's nothing here either. And... And honestly, I want a change of scenery.
I'm getting out. Even if out doesn't exist.
"Let's... leave." I mumbled, turning my head up once more and starting to pull. The crack above my head widened. I didn't move. "I said..." I growled, finally starting to feel a give. "I'm... leaving."
There was more give. And more. And more. And finally something snapped. The crack vanished, disintegrating with the bubble I was stuck in. I felt my earlier headache start to form again. Whatever I could feel of my body started to go numb. I was feeling heavy now, substantial even.
A groan escaped me as I felt my headache start to increase it's pounding. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I squeezed my eyes shut, peeling them an inch open to see a different scenery. It wasn't dark, like what I was aiming for. It was... bright. Again. A tiled ceiling, with the tubelight right above me.
There was also a fast, insistent beeping right beside my ear. It felt muffled.
My next groan came out choked. Almost like a gurgle. There was something in my throat that wouldn't let me speak. I think it was helping in my... breathing.
That's odd. I've never been in a... hospital? This is a... hospital. My nose recognises the smell.
My eyes flickered around, trying to find someone. But I could already feel myself fading. I wasn't going to stay conscious for long. The beeping was getting more and more muffled. I could no longer see the ceiling clearly. There was a vague sound of someone yelling but it didn't matter. I'd passed out again by the time it got closer.
This time around there was no bar in a floating bubble of light. There was no barstool I was tied to with weird ropes that burnt into me because they were cold or hot. It was just darkness. A nice, blissful darkness that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was almost like sleep.
Which is probably why I felt like shit when I woke up.
I was never a morning person.
The first thing that hit me was the sore throat. My windpipe felt chafed raw. I did remember some kind of an obstruction when I tried to speak earlier. They must've had a pipe down in my throat. Breathing hurt, but it no longer felt like I was restricted to speak.
The headache had stayed. But there was no pain in my body. I didn't feel tied down either. I just felt... limp. There was no energy in my body to actually move. Even opening my eyelids felt like a monumental effort.
They fell shut almost immediately after opening a slit. The light above me was very bright. It was very bright all around. It stung my eyes. I felt tears leak out once again.
"She's up." The voice was muffled. It wasn't one I recognised.
A warm hand landed on my face. Fingers pressed against my eyelid, pushing it up. I groaned in pain as a bright light was shone in. Ah fuck, the Hunters had done the same. Was I back in their hands? No... No, I can't deal with this again.
I was still in their town. I wouldn't be surprised if the first responders had been one of theirs, and that I was... I was trapped again.
My hand moved sluggishly, rising and falling back down onto my stomach. I could feel something under my skin. Probably an IV. This was not new. I'd been put on an IV a few times before. Once in high school for anemia, and twice when I passed out at work due to exhaustion. In my defense, I hadn't slept for a few days because I'd spent those nights in stranger's places partying.
It had been a neverending cycle of drink, recover, work, drink some more. Landing in the hospital because of it had been what really forced me to slow down. The new job after my break slowed my social life down enough for me to attempt going sober an entire year.
But that's not important right now. I need to know if I'm in the company of friends or foes.
Foes? How stupid. My life's stupid.
My other hand rose, wrapping tightly around loose fabric as I felt the torch move to my other eye. Damn, it burnt.
"Calm down, Ryleigh. You're in a hospital."
Fucking duh. But who is this?
The torch moved away from my eyes, and I redirected my energy to keeping them wide open. A face stared forming under the bright ceiling light. I vaguely recognised it, unsure where to place it from.
The man grinned down at me. He raised the hand that was holding the torch, waving cheerily down at me. "Hello! Do you remember me?"
Who the... I haven't been to the hospital in ye-
"I was there when you got shot!" He kept waving, the tone as cheery as his smile. The way he was saying it made it sound like we'd met in the park. "Hello! Do you remember me now?"
I blinked blankly up at him as he kept waving down at me. He wasn't... He was there when I got shot. Yeah, this guy...
Forcing my eyes open, I looked up to find myself already seated. Mike had let go of my arm, making me fall back against the wooden counter. I would be passed out on the floor if it wasn't for this support.
"There's no needle or sutures at her place." I heard a voice beside me.
"And you think there'd be some here?" I recognised Lou's dry reply.
"There's not?"
A loud sigh. "Bars aren't exactly places where people need stitches, feathers. Pop into a hotel dispensary and get that shit by yourself."
"Isn't there a demon here with a medical degree?"
"Yes." I looked up at hearing the new voice, tracing it to one of the demons who I'd seen slit a throat. There was still blood on him. "I should have sutures and a sterilised needle in my kit."
This guy. I mean, that guy. I knew him.
"You should have a drink, Ms. Ryleigh. I don't seem to have anesthesia or antiseptic with me." He straightened up. The mask shifted as, I assumed, he smiled at me.
"What kind of shit doctor are you?" I mumbled, narrowing my eyes worriedly at him.
"The back-alley kind, and a professional one." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger togeth- wait, gloves too? "Extra cash and thrills."
"Back... alley..." I mumbled out, staring up at his still waving hand.
"Ah!" It stopped, his grin widened. "I'm glad you remember! Though I am also an actual doctor. That's just... a hobby."
"Stitching up bleeding bartenders is a hobby?" I heard a chuckle. I couldn't recognise that either. "You need a better job."
"This is my job and my hobby." The demon hovering above me turned towards the foot of my bed. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Nice to know. Can you help her sit up?"
"There's still sedative flooding her system by the looks of her. And I don't really..." He looked back down at me, the grin gone. "I don't really know what..."
"That's it." I heard a clap. A woman? "Leave."
"Don't be rude." Dr. Demon sighed. "I'm setting up the bed."
He turned back to me, I felt an arm wrap around my chest, effortlessly holding onto my dead weight as I heard the bed start to move under me. He propped me up once the bed was upright enough. I was slightly distracted by the two people standing across my bed.
They had no auras. And their bodies weren't ones I recognised. I looked over them, blinking once more. Not everything was in focus yet. My vision didn't seem to be coming together anytime soon either.
"How are you feeling?"
A woman. The woman who'd clapped. Tall, dyed blonde hair, tight latex dress. I could see needle marks on her thighs and on the arms she had folded by her ample chest. Her lipstick was smudged.
She cocked her head. "Can she even hear me? I thought you said her injuries had healed."
That commanding voice aimed at the doctor. "Mike?" I rasped out. No way.
The woman gave me a dry look. "Yes, it's me." My jaw almost fell to the floor. "There was no other viable angelic vessel nearby."
My eyes moved to the other body. Not much different. Thigh-high leather boots, tight leather mini skirt and a bright pink bra. My eyes rose to meet the eyes of the other vessel, pausing by the beard and the facial hair. "Lou?"
The man... They smirked at me. "Like what you see, honey?"
My eyes went to their puckered lips. "That's... a nice... shade."
"You like?" They raised an eyebrow. "I think they might have it kept somewhere along this body's effects." Right. Demons inhabit dead bodies.
"I... Pass."
Lou shrugged. "You're missing out." The hand moved to pat the lips with two fingers, turning them outwards to me. "It's a good formula. Survived an overdose, a resurrection and a blowj-"
"Demon." Mike cut in. "Stay focused."
Lou frowned at Mike. "Don't be rude. It's always important to have a good, long-lasting formula." They turned back to face me, wagging their fingers. "I'll get it for you."
"I'll... buy for... myself." I don't know how I feel about using a dead person's lipstick.
"Free stuff, but alright." They shrugged.
Mike sighed, shaking his head. "How do you feel, Ryleigh?"
"Like... shit..." I replied, looking over his vessel again. "Is your... dead... too?"
I could see some embarassment cross through her face. "She was still alive when I picked her up... in the ending throes of an overdose." Mike raised her hand, looking over it. "She doesn't have long to live, but she is the closest angelic vessel I could find."
"You don't... need to keep... explaining to-to me." I cleared my throat, glancing at the motley state of my friends in front of me.
A smile crossed my face as I looked them over. Mike standing stock still in the silence, still not sure how to act like a human after almost an year of knowing him. And Lou idly snapping his bra with a thumb in the silence, at ease in the new body.
And me- bandaged, beaten up, burnt up and almost blown up too. Yet somehow, sitting here and staring at the idiots I went through it all for.
Shaking my head to myself, I let out a laugh despite my rough throat. It felt good to laugh. "I'm just... I'm just glad you two are alive."
***
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Long, rambling chapter. But isn't that the case for most of our thoughts?
Would you like being lost in your head? Stuck with your thoughts and no way out?
Or would you like to think of this way- no worries, just you and yourself. Nothing bothering you.
Comment and tell me what you would prefer!
Anyway, everyone's alive! Yay!
Not in optimal alive conditions, but alive nonetheless.
It's not been an optimal year either, but you're alive. You've made it through a rough period. It might go either up or down from now on, but don't worry. You have friends. You have family. You always have people supporting you and backing you up.
This year might be rough again. But remember your support system.
Remember me. I shall be here for you too.
Happy New Year! Have a safe 2021!
I'm glad you're alive! And I'm thankful for your support towards 'Closing Time'!