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

haven't tried dating again nor have I tried looking for a job.  My parents are worried about me.  "It's not normal for someone your age to be so antisocial."  I don't feel like socializing.  I just want to keep to myself.
     
    I haven’t dreamt since moving back home.  The medication prevents them.  It’s probably for the best.  Reliving her homicide every night would drive me to hang myself.  It’s been nine months since Hoyt barged into the cleaners and shot her.  I haven't heard anything from either of the detectives since.  Detective Bernhardt assured me I'd be kept posted this time.  That only means one thing; Hoyt hasn't been apprehended yet. 
    It's now minutes to midnight.  Just before calling it a night, it dawned on me that I haven't taken my medication today as prescribed.  They're kept in the kitchen on the first floor and I'm too weary to walk down two flights.  I've been taking the medication for the past eight months.  Neglecting the pills for a night can't possibly cause any grave ramifications.
    I fell asleep like any other night.  There were no hallucinations, no violent tendencies or voices in my head, initially.  My slumber suddenly made a turn for the worse.  In the middle of a deep sleep, I heard a disturbing scream and it startled me awake.  It sounded as if it were off in the distance.  I lurched upright and glanced around the room.  The cries continued but I was unable to find the source.  "Is someone there?" I frantically inquired.  They began to grow louder.  "Is someone there?"  I persisted to ask. 
    The cries have now become unbearable.  I clasped my ears in efforts to hinder myself from hearing it.  It was ineffective.  I jolted off my bed and backed into a corner.  The cries wouldn't stop and it was disturbing.  Suddenly, my bedroom closet gradually creaked open.  "Who's there?"  I hollered.  A man wearing a black balaclava ski mask cambered from behind the door.  He aimed a sawed-off rifle at me.  He had a trifling squint in his eyes.  Before he managed pull the trigger, I awoke.  I sat up in my bed and glanced over at my closet.  It was empty.  The clock on my dresser displayed four in the morning. "What's happening to me?"
    The homicide kept running through my mind for the duration of the morning.  The guilt of hiding in my parent's home while Hoytsworth still roamed the streets was becoming inundating.  I can't stay here any longer.  Not while he's still out there.
     
    Later on that night, I wrote a letter to my parents.  I disclosed how much I appreciated them for what they've provided me with.  I apologized in advance for what I was about to do.  But I have to do it.  It needs to be done!  I fixed the note on my arranged bed and then skulked out of the house.
    I arrived at the bus terminal inside Grand Central Station just in time to secure a nine o'clock ticket to Capitol City.   “What happened to yours eyes?”  The clerked inquired.  I ignored him, snatched my receipt and headed to the coach.  The passengers began boarding just as I left the ticket booth.  I didn't have any belongings other than the black hoodie and black jeans I had on; my wallet, keys and cellphone were in my pocket.  After being jostled by impatient ticket holders, I managed to get onboard and secure a seat in the back.  I pulled my hoodie over my head and rested against the window.  I couldn't help notice how magnificent and full the moon was tonight.  I've never seen it so brilliant in my life.
    The bus was filled to capacity.  The tight seating allowed for no leg room.  A heavyset male sat beside me cramping me even more.  Just as the driver departed from the terminal he informed us the air condition was inoperable.  The antsy passengers began to protest and request a discount on their ticket prices.  Just as I thought things couldn't get any worse, the husky male besides me unwrapped a homemade tuna and ketchup sandwich that left a foul odor on