A young man stood in the dark, unsure of what had happened. He couldn't remember anything except a scene of walking down an alley on a cold rainy night.
His chest felt heavy, his legs shaking. He reached up to wipe a tear off his face. Why was he crying? He tried to take a step forward in the darkness, but his legs gave out and he fell. He yelled out as he fell through the dark, a rush of heartbreaking memories flooding back into his mind.
In a dimly lit room on a small hospital bed lay a messy haired man, bruised and battered, wrapped in bandaged attached to an assortment of monitors and tubes. His eyes cracked open and he took a sharp breath in feeling the aches and soreness that covered his body. He sat up slowly, his mind rushing a million miles a minute.
Dead.
The love of his life was dead.
He wondered how he had been hurt and how he got here. Shortly after a good college friend of his had stopped by after hearing that the young man had awoken. He explained what had happened to him.
He desperately needed to get to his office and his flat, there was important information that he needed to check that he had been gathering. He insisted on leaving but the hospital staff had to keep him for a few more weeks to make sure he healed properly.
Finally after a few weeks of rest and recuperation he was released back into the world. Finally.
He rushed to the University, his own handy car speeding down the streets of London. He ran in past the dean who was surprised to see him back so soon.
He approached an office door that read Layton. His keys already at hand he unlocked the door and stepped in swiftly then stopping in the middle of the room.
His mouth hung agape, for what had once been his beloved new office had been torn to shreds. He closed the door behind him, walking slowly over to his desk. He didn't breath, didn't blink.
There on his desk, sat what had been a very important article to him. The outer bindings of a notebook with half a ripped page still intact sat splayed across the desk.
no No NO!
This was terrible! All the hard work he had put in the time before his incident was gone. All gone.
He slumped down into his chair, pulling off his beloved hat that had received all too recently before the series of tragic events.
At least he was alone. No one to see him begin to shake. He wouldn't have been able to hold it back anyways. The tears, the pain, the memories. His vision blurred as little beads rolled down his face. He hugged the hat close to himself, an important reminder of what he had lost.
I'm sorry Claire.
