Saturday, September 15, 2018

The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 26

Chapter 26 – The Letter
My life at one point was nothing more than a drug-fueled orgy of chaos and anarchy encircled by the fires of Hell. However, in the past week, it's now a clusterfuck of emotions fueled by the fires of confusion burning in every fiber of my fucking soul. A single kiss has twisted my heart more than a spool of wire caught inside a tornado. The part that has me the most fucked up is I haven't heard or seen anything from Amber since that one kiss that ignited this maddening bewilderment that has kept me up every single night looking out the window waiting for her return while wondering if it was a mistake, or our hearts long to reignite the fiery passion we once had. A single fucking text would end this insanity, but the silence keeps my fucking mind up trying to make sense of it all as I'm still trying to figured out what else has happened to my life since that single gunshot that silenced Richard forever.
I light up another cigarette as I keep tearing my mind apart as I keep longing to hear from Amber again. Even though I'm still in casts, my body is not the most broken thing inside my body. My soul has been torn apart, and casted into the winds of loneliness with each passing second. Once again, I find myself feeling truly alone in a swamp, and it's taking all my willpower not to become the heartless monster once more. However, with each passing second, I feel the walls going back up. It's like my soul rather snuff the spark of hope instead of being torn apart by the pain weighing down my heart. A single word can turn down those walls, but I don't fucking know when I'll hear from her.
My heart skips a beat as I see a car driving up to the house. I try to stay calm as I see the typical black sedan stop in the driveway, the same type of car that Amber drove away in last week. As a man steps out, I feel my soul sink back into despair. He looks at me, and I chuckle as he keeps rubbing on the sleeves of the standard government black suit. He runs his hand across his bald head, and grabs a duffel bag out of the car. I get a feeling he wants to be here as much as I do, but he will follow orders. He scratches his red goatee as he walks onto the porch, bag slung over his shoulder.
"You got one you can spare?" he asks as he sits down next to me, dropping the bag next to his chair.
"Sure," I say as I pass him a smoke and my lighter. I can't help notice the bags under his brown eyes like he drove here through the night.
"Fucking hate the no smoking policy for vehicles," he replies as he lights it up, and takes a long drag.
"I take it you also hate the dress code," I reply as I notice the scare below his left eye that runs down to his neck.
"Part of the job," he chuckles.
"So, which pencil pusher did you tick off to end up here?" I ask as I light up another one.
"Director Townston."
I fall silent at the mention of Amber. I'm glad she's still alive, but I wish it was her next to me, not this new guy. However, at least this agent doesn't give me a vibe that I want to kill him like Richard did. He seems to be more laid back based on his comment on the smoking policy inside cars, but I will find out as time goes on. Also, I don't know his exact orders either. He could be here to help, or feed me to the gators. Right now, he just wants to chill after his long drive, which is fine by me.
"So, you got a name?" he asks.
"Ronnie. You?"
"Damian," he replies. “Anyway, I'll be back in a few. I'm getting out of this fucking monkey costume."
"I'm going to go run a mile as you change," I say.
"The only thing you're going to run today it seems is your smartass mouth," he retorts. "I'll be back."
I sit there as he walks inside trying to stay out of my head considering all it's doing is dragging me down deeper into depression. The bright side of today is at least someone is willing to talk to me. The other agents seem to avoid me like I have the fucking plague. They get me out of bed, wheel me out here, and only bring me food or drink when I ask. After that, nothing but cold shoulders when I try to have a conversation with them. They make Richard seem so charming right now because even though he truly was a prick, he at least talked to me.
A few minutes later, Damian returns wearing a black wife beater and sweats. I can't help but notice how scarred his arms are. I even notice the heroin trails on his elbow as he lights up a cigarette. He looks like he's been more shit than me as I even notice the scars of being shot with buckshot on the back of his left shoulder. As I keep glancing at his scars, I begin to wonder how much shittier his life is compared to mine. However, surviving that much bullshit only leads to an uneasiness discussing one's past. I know every time I recall my childhood I end up drinking to erase any thoughts. The fact we're still breathing after all that only leads to focusing on what's ahead, and keeping those skeletons fucking buried.
He notices me staring and simply replies, "Yeah, my personal file is just as FUBAR as yours, but will discuss that tomorrow. We got a lot of catching up to do."
"How bad has shit gotten?"
"There's a box in your room. Try to go through it before tomorrow. I'm going to go lay down. Again, we'll begin tomorrow."
"Can you take me back so I can start?" I ask.
"Sure."
He takes me back to the room, and I see a file folder box sitting on the desk by the window. He sets me up at the desk, and leaves. I open the file, and see an envelope address to me. I open it, and find a letter from Amber. My hands shake as I read it:

My dearest Ronnie,
I'm sorry for my sudden departure, but I can't afford to rush into my feelings for you. There is a lot of passion that burns between us, and rekindling it will only lead to ultimate failure. I know you still don't trust me fully since that night in Curva. I'm hoping that one day you will. Until then, Damiam is in charge. I'll be in touch soon.
Amber

I set the letter on the desk, and push away from the files. I have one of the guards wheel me back onto the porch, and I spent the rest of the day numbing all feelings with whiskey. The last thing I remember before finally passing out is I how much I want to be with Amber.

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