World So Cold

15

Three days, three fucking days and they still wont let me out of here. I was beyond pissed and about ready to just walk out. I was pissed that nothing seemed to be real, or at least I didn't think it was. I was pissed that I was in this situation. Mostly I was pissed at myself for doing whatever the fuck I did.

"Mr. Olson, I have some news." I look to the doctor, who i found out wasn't Mark but Dr. Johnson.

"We are checking you into a mental institute. From there we'd like you to go to drug rehab and therapy."

"Fucking hell no, I'm fucking out of here." I spat pulling the needles from my arms.

He sets a hand on mine to prevent me from doing so. "I know you don't want do, the only way you could get out of this is if someone comes to get you in the next 24 hours. Are you sure you don't know anyone."

I put my head in my hands, frustrated. "How many times do I have to say this, I don't remember. When I was out I had some kind of lucid dream or whatever and now I don't know what's real and what's not. Just let me out or I'm leaving myself."

He wrote something down. "Mr. Olson I'd like to run a few tests. I should be back in a few hours. In the mean time would you like anything?"

"No thank you." I say as politely as I could.

As soon as the door closed I ripped the needles and tubes out of my arms. I stood up and searched for clothes other than this gross hospital gown. I found them in a bag in a cupboard. Shoes,  a pair of black jeans, a HIM shirt, my beanie and a sweatshirt. I pulled it over my head, it want almost all the way to my knees. I bring the fabric to my nose. The smell brought thousands of rushing images through my head. One of them being Ryan. I hope to God my heads still not fucked and those memories are actually real.

I peek out the door to see if anyone was comeing and rushed down the hall. No idea where I was going but if I kept walking I'd get somewhere right?

*   *   *

After a few hours and some very close calls I made it out of there. Now where to go, that was a good question. So I did what I supposedly did before, I walked.

Ryan

We hadn't seen Ricky for almost a week now. I'd found his phone in an alley and I was worried sick. I spent hours every day just walking around looking.

It wasnt like him to just disapear. Sure he liked to walk around everywhere, but he always asked me to go with him unless he wanted a few minutes to himeself. A little while before he disapeared i notice he was getting depressed and distancing himself a bit from everyone.

Maybe he needed to get away for awhile. Maybe someone took him or he got mugged. Maybe a cop picked him up or got hurt. Maybe he committed suicide. The last thought made my heart stop. I just needed to know, I needed my baby back.