The Legend by G. A. Augustin Read Free Book Online

well.  You might not be able to decipher what is real and what isn't.  Duane, these combinations could make you a violent person without proper medication.  I strongly recommend you take the prescriptions as prescribed.  It is imperative.  I don't want you hurting yourself or someone else.  A man that knows no fear is a dangerous one." 
     
    Detective Bernhardt and Wu returned to the hospital later on in the day.  They asked about the shooting once more.  A large portion of my memory has returned but the tiny details they inquire about are still vague.  Trying to remember causes a scathing headache.  "All right Duane.  We won't bother you anymore.  Just give us a call if something comes back to mind."  Detective Wu advised while handing me her business card.
     
    After enduring several days of physical therapy, I was finally being released from the hospital.  Before the doctor signed my discharging papers, he insisted I ingest my medication while he watched.  After downing the pills, he reiterated to my parents "It's imperative he continues to take the medication."  The hallucinations have stopped.  My demeanor has also become tranquil.  I don't care for the medication though.  I feel like I'm being muzzled. 
     
    In order to be closely monitored I had to move back to my parent's home in Brooklyn, New York.  Before leaving Capitol City, my parents drove me to Lolani's grave.  I never got a chance to tell her "Goodbye."  
    My p arents stayed behind while I made my way to her resting place.  After hiking up a grassy hill, I caught sight of a grave site with white and orange carnations draped over a marble headstone.  It's hers.  I'd thought I'd be able to feel some kind of emotion; sadness, anxiety or anger.  However, there was nothing.  My eyes couldn't even muster a tear.  This medication doesn't allow it.  I'm just a blank canvass. 
    I kneeled before the headstone and rested my right hand on it.  The first words that came out of my mouth were an apology .  I selfishly brought this on her.  I should've told her about the dire straits that followed me around.  It was those secrets I kept that cost her her life.  
    After moments of prayer, flashes of lightning began to ignite the city sky.  They were followed by distant roars of thunder.  Gentle raindrops began to fall on me.  I stood up, glanced at her site one last time then sauntered down the grassy hill to my father's car.  My parents were waiting for me outside the vehicle.  Before I could get in, they both embraced me with a firm hug.
     
    My parents own a three family brownstone renovated into a lofty single family house in a prosperous middle class neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York.  The second I made my way through the front door I caught whiff of Caribbean Breeze air freshener.  The hallway is immaculate.  It's a complete contrast to the cesspool I have been dwelling in.  The wood finished floors had a luster to it.  It looks like my father managed to refinish the vintage wood trimmings along the walls as well.  I had a sudden feel of nostalgia; back to my childhood when life was simple. 
     
    I spend my days sulking in my room.  My parents left it precisely how I did before moving; in case I decided to move back.  They haven’t removed the pull-up bar that hung in my doorway.  My sparring dummy is covered in dust but continued to lean against the corner by the window and my dumbbells are still underneath my bed.  I pass time by working out.  Every morning I stretch for ten minutes then warm up by throwing strikes and grappling with the dummy.  I do five hundred push-ups, sit-ups, squats, lunges, calf rises, military presses and pull-ups a day.  It helps the time pass and keeps my mind off Lolani. 
    Since moving back to Brooklyn I seldom leave my room.  I ignore the phone calls from my former college classmates checking on my well-being.  I have no need for friendships.  I'm not in the mood for it.  I