To be fair, majority of my life has been one big blur. There have been instances where I've did fairly heinous acts, but don't have any memory of actually doing it. At times being diagnosed with D.I.D is the biggest curse to my existence.
I'm a good person, at least that's what I tell myself day in and day out. But I'm not incapable of doing fucked up shit, I gotta remind myself of that everyday as well.
I guess that's why I find myself standing inside of this elevator. One thing that should be known about Duce is that I'm a very contradicting individual. It can be frustrating at times, but hey it's my life.
The doors to the elevator slide apart, I step out into the lobby area of the floor I'm on. Nurses are scurrying about everywhere as I step off, heading for the receptionist desk. I approach cautiously, not knowing if I was doing the right thing.
“Umm.. Can one of y'all tell me what room Mia Rayne is in?” I questioned nervously.
A young black woman in her mid twenties, looks up responding. “Just go to the one that has the creepy people around it.”
I leave the desk, searching the halls until I came across the room. Dorian and The Shadow stood guard, both with restless eyes. I’d be a damn fool if I dared approached the room, but a part of me had to see her. It's also probably a good thing I came incognito. At least a hoodie and ball cap was my idea of being incognito. I keep my distance, staying out of sight. Didn't feel like drawing bad publicity to the CWF.
The second turned to minutes, which became hours of me sitting and waiting. But the two men held their post. Fuck, these guys should be working for the queen. I would not be telling you the truth if I said the anticipation wasn't killing me. It was though, a piss break or something would be nice. But it never came..
I decided to take a walk through the hospital to give it some more time. Plus I figured it would be kinda weird if a black guy with a hoodie and hat on, stalking around on the floor like that. Taking solace in a nearby visitors waiting room. I watch the MSNBC report on what's happening in the political word. Not really my cup of tea, so I pull out my phone, unlocking it, finding anything to try to deter my mind from the propaganda. The cell phone didn't help. So I sat there, quietly, patiently, seriously how long could they sit there.
The seconds become minutes, whereas the minutes became hours.
I found myself wiping drool from my mouth, didn't know those cushioned chairs could be so comfortable. I guess it's time to try again. Upon exiting the waiting room, I head back towards her room. Nearing a corner, I peek my head around the corner to make sure the coast is clear.
Which to my surprise it was! I slowly made my way towards the door of the room. My head on the constant swivel, making sure no one catches me off guard. My heart skips a beat, a sudden wave of heat taking over my body as I grabbed the door handle, pushing the door open slowly.
The room is silent, except for the monitor that keeps beeping, with each breath she takes. My steps feel like I'm dressing cinder blocks that are chained to my ankles. She lies there, eyes closed, unconscious, sleeping peacefully.
I always heard rumors that, even in a coma.. That they could still hear your words.
“Y'know, sometimes us as people tend t'do thangs, dat in tha long run, we really can't take back. Just t'say we livin’ in tha moment. Not thinkin’ bout what the end game could possibly play out t’be.”
A migraine suddenly drops me to my knees. The pain excruciating, I knew what was happening. Fighting the battle within my head. Eventually he takes back over.
“Sucks t’be ya..”
With a slight chuckle, I throw the hood back over my head, making my exit as swiftly as my entrance. Heading towards the elevator. Pressing the down button, waiting for its arrival.
We all have demons we face everyday. Some of us win the battle, some of us don't. As the doors open on the dinging elevator, I step inside pressing the button for the lobby. And it's safe to say that..
Duce has lost this one..
A different swagger, a different dialect, a different person.
But we've all heard this story before.
Until we meet again.