The Orion Star

Freaking Out

That last night when we sat in awe

You tried to hack it with a saw

Spree, spree

Please find it without me

Glee, glee

Just let me be

I'm not like you

Insanities are not safe

Brash, brash

You've given me a rash

Smash, smash

Please don't take out this trash

--From the song I Feel Like A Million Dreams

Lyrics by Orion Bauwens

We turn in the letter to the police. I feel really stupid walking in there with no shoes and freezing feet, but oh well. None of the detectives seem to care.

It was going to take a couple weeks for them to analyze the letter and envelope for fingerprints. As nicely as I could (though I'm not sure how nicely it came across; I tried) I asked if they could put a rush on it. Since no one had actually died, and they already had a backlog of criminal evidence to be processed, no, they couldn't.

Then we were told this would actually take longer than a couple weeks. I think once they saw how agitated I was, they wanted to be more truthful.

"Fuck me!" I shout as we get back into Tristan's car, slamming my door.

"It'll be okay."

"What am I supposed to do?" I rant at him. "I'm not wearing fucking shoes, all my meds are in the house...Just-- fuck me!"

Tristan pulls out of the parking space and starts driving. "Who has access to your house? Like, does anyone have the keys and code?"

"Jake and Ben and Gloria," I mumble.

"Would any of them be willing to go in and grab the stuff you need?"

My eyes go wide. "I'm not going to fucking do that! I don't want them to go waltzing into a murder trap--"

"What about a security detail? Do you want me to pull back around and ask for an armed escort so you can grab your essentials?"

I pause. I then pull out my phone. "No, but you gave me an idea." I punch in a number and wait.

"Hi, Gloria? Look, shit just hit the fan and I need a favor. Who is our most trusted security detail person?"

I explain to her what's going on. I tell her to give him the key she has and my code, and instruct her to write down where all the things I need are (wallet, coat, meds, my two guitars). We then agree on a drop off place (the library, because seriously, why the fuck would I ever go to the library? People don't know I'm an avid reader.) and we'll meet there in an hour.

Once that's out of the way, I sigh and close my eyes.

"Target?" Tristan asks.

"Huh?"

"You forgot to ask for shoes. Want to go to Target and get some?"

I look down at my black socks and swear. "Yes, please."

"Size?"

"Thirteen."

He chuckles, changing lanes to get into the left turn lane. "Anything else?"