Facing Her Demons (Lesbian, Transgender)

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Using a Ritual Instead of a Restraining Order

I have to get out of here. Who knows when Chaz or Scott is coming back? And I'm not going to stay put like a good girl and wait to see what Chaz is going to do the next time he drops by for a visit.

     The blanket gets yanked off of me, and I wince at the sight of the leg. The gauze's been laid on thick over the injury. I don't even want to know what happened at the alley to cause something like this.

     Stop worrying about it, I think. Gotta get out of here, remember?

     After taking off the IV line, I swing the good leg over the bed rail and make an attempt to hop down. I take extra precaution with getting the bum leg down as well. I don't know how long the morphine will take before it wears off, but I doubt it'd take a long time.

     I walk stiffly across the room and open the door. I poke my head out to make sure no one's going to catch me. Grabbing the clothes on the counter, I hold them close to my chest and stumble quickly down the empty hall. To my relief, there's a closet with no one there. I lock the door behind me and rip the hospital gown off of me.

     I've just about pulled the pants over the leg when I hear someone call out, "We got a patient on the loose!"

     Shit. There goes my plan of sneaking out.

     From the outside, I hear some shuffling. I keep my hand on the door handle and wait for the sounds to fade. I open the door after several quiet moments, while my other hand grabs for one of the needles in a container next to me. Someone at the opposite end of the hall is looking away from me, which gives me the advantage to escape to another hallway.

     The next people I see are patiently looking out of their own rooms. As soon as they see me, they immediately close their doors. I can imagine them all thinking something close to, "Yep, same old shit here. Ain't gonna be a part of it again."

     Someone in a security uniform runs in front of the side door, prepared to take me down. With some quick thinking, I dodge his grabbing hands and inject the needle in his neck. He goes down, whether from the dosage or the fact I didn't aim for a vein. I'd take the time to regret not taking more than one, but then again, being chased here.

     The outside looks vaguely familiar, but I don't give myself enough time to remember where I am. Down the street I go, and on the next one. It doesn't take me long to figure out I'm on a street I recognize.

     I lean against one of the walls to think about where the entrance to the Above-Ground is and how to get there, all while avoiding the stares I'm getting from a couple of people who are still out in the middle of the night. There are at least three routes I can use, and two of them are the busier ones, what with the clubs being occupied by drunks, stoners, and such. The third might get me to the entrance, but I'll have to be careful. Not all law enforcement systems in Hell are completely scant.

     I turn my head back, which was a mistake. From afar, Scott comes out of the hospital through the same door. He's holding some kind of weapon, which he's holding close to him as if someone's just going to walk by and snatch it.

     He looks away from my direction. I start up again, once I realize I've been standing way too long thinking about the possible scenario that Scott will end up in a gun fight with some stranger. Oh, that's probably why an idiotic character in a horror movie gets caught in the chase scene.

     Forget that I called myself an idiot.

     I remember what's there on the left more than the right, even though it's a longer route to get to the exit. I dodge anyone who's out on the street. A couple of people go on their day like normal which, from what I've seen growing up, isn't too far off.