Do I even want to?
Grabbing my phone from the table, I force myself to leave the cold, unwelcoming office without answering that final question.
In truth, I know the answer.
I'm just not ready to face it yet. I need to keep everything separate for a little bit longer, until I know more about the people in my past.
I'm far too restless to go to bed, and if I'm going to find any answers, I have to start with the only fucking clue I have access to right now.
Mingle.
A quick search shows it's an upscale bar downtown, only a seven-minute drive away.
Ah, fuck.
I don't even know if I have a car. Or if I'm allowed to drive yet.
There's not a ride service in the world that'll pick me up.
The fucking taxi driver on the way here watched me so intently in the mirror that he nearly crashed twice.
In a perfect world, I could at least change out of my court suit, but in this world, I may not have a choice.
Two at a time, I run up the stairs, hoping my bedroom is slightly less disheveled than the rest of my house.
Standing at the open doorway, my eye starts to twitch.
Every inch of my home is a message more than it's proof of an investigation.
They tore it apart, shredded my fucking mattress, destroyed any bit of comfort I had.
They even left behind their fluorescent tape and my clothes in piles on the floor like they knew I'd never be back here, and if I did, the mess they left behind would drive me even further into madness.
The police may not be the ones who attacked me, but theysystematically destroyed what was left of my life, leaving me to pick up the pieces of their mistakes.
And they didn't even find the actual evidence they needed!
Fucking hell.
I rip the tie off, throwing it on what's left of my bedroom floor, knowing I won't be coming back here tonight if I can help it.
I've got a credit card with no limit and countless hotels to choose from.
I use the walk to think through everything that's happened in such a short time.
Just this morning, I was sure I'd spend the rest of my life rotting in a cell, or an institution, or worse, my life would be cut extremely short without me ever really understanding why.
Now, not only am I free, I'm 100% sure that I shouldn't be.
The city looks mostly the same, save for a few new businesses that seem to be wearing the bones of what was there before.
A block from Mingle, the world suddenly seems quiet.
The shops between here and there are dark, without even an interior light to show what they might be during the day.
A parking garage across the street hums with electricity, and as I step closer and closer to the busy lounge, the music shakes the ground, joining in with the buzz of the lights to create a symphony, immersing me in the heady beat even before I've stepped inside.
I peek ahead, searching for the end of the line, my brows rising up as I see at least a hundred bodies waiting to get past the man standing guard at the door.
