After The Fall, Megan Glock [best reads TXT] 📗

hoped it wasn't obvious that it was forced. Setting the pen down, he ventured off down the white hallway. He'd memorized each of the abstract paintings on the walls and recognized almost all the faces. He wasn't sure whether to be fascinated by this, or disappointed that he visited this hellhole far too often.

 

The door was open when Dayton arrived at it. Inside, he could see his brother, laying as motionless as ever on the bed. Standing over him and looking at a clipboard was Dr. Kwoski. Dr. Kwoski was young and attractive, light brown hair and soft, peach skin. He was thin, and shorter than Dayton by about half a foot at somewhere around five foot seven inches, Dayton would estimate.

 

He knocked once on the door as he entered, "Afternoon, Dr. Kwoski." He figured that since he'd known the doctor for such a long while, he'd at least know his first name. But Dayton supposed Kwoski was a 'strictly business' sort of man and knowing his first name wasn't particularly necessary, and Dayton didn't feel comfortable crossing any possible boundaries that might have been set there, so he left it alone.

 

Dr. Kwoski looked up, "Dayton." He greeted solemnly. "His brain activity is deteriorating." He stated curtly.

 

Dayton's brows furrowed and he walked to the side of the bed. Though handsome, Kwoski was a bit of an asshole. Or rather, he had the information and- good or bad -he wasn't afraid to bash it in your face as if it were a brick. Which was close to how Dayton felt at this moment. He knew where this was going; conversations between he and Kwoski always went down that road.

 

"You're just dragging things on, Dayton." Kwoski said. "If I were you-"

 

"Well you're not me." Dayton snapped. "You're the doctor, you're supposed to keep people alive, not encourage their deaths."

 

Kwoski's lips pulled into a tight frown. "Let me know if you change your mind." He hung the clipboard on the hook at the end of the bed and left the room.

 

Dayton fell back into the seat beside the bed, rubbing his face with his hands as he groaned loudly, "You're killing me, Dakota." His hands dropped and he stared at the unconscious boy in the bed. "I'm going to get evicted, by the way." He chuckled bitterly, "I blame you."

 

A reply would have been nice, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He imagined his younger brother rolling his eyes and saying something sarcastic like, "Yeah, it's definitely my fault you can't find a better job."

 

He scoffed in response to the imaginary response. "If I didn't have to pay your damn hospital bills, I wouldn't be in this mess."

 

No comeback to that.

 

Dayton breathed in and let out a shuddering breath. "I miss you."

 

"Of course you do." Would be Dakota's response, the narcissistic bastard.

 

He rested his head against the bed, "I'm so sorry."

 

"You say that every time you come to visit."

 

Dayton closed his eyes, "I know. It never feels like enough, though. It probably never will be."

 

The memory of Dakota's body, still eleven years old, laying in that pool of crimson came to the front of his mind, vivid and terrifying, as if it hadn't happened eight years ago. He had done that to his own brother. Everyone insisted it had just been an accident., everyone said everything would be fine. But his parents looked at him differently after that day; they looked at him like he were a murderer. If he thought about it, they were right. Everything was far from being fine.

 

He grabbed Dakota's hand as he sobbed, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

 

* * *

 

"-and we took a romantic walk in the moonlight before he took me home."

 

Sarah was in the middle of telling Dayton a long and sappy tale about her date the evening before. He found it hard to concentrate, for the simple fact he really didn't care. But he humored her and did his best not to fall asleep as she spoke. He wondered if he could add 'sleeping at inappropriate times' as a special skill on his résumé.

 

Sarah leaned on the counter, staring expectantly at Dayton. "Doesn't that sound nice?" She asked.

 

He rose an eyebrow. Why was she asking him? "It's not my kind of thing, but if you enjoyed yourself, that's all that matters."

 

The girl beamed at that, quickly followed by a look of disappointment. "Not your kind of thing?" She inquired, "Then what's your dream date?"

 

Was that important, he wondered. But, not that he was being asked the question, he honestly wasn't sure. "I don't have time to be thinking about things like that."

 

From the look on her face, she obviously wasn't satisfied with this answer, and opened her mouth to no doubt pry further. Luckily, he was saved by the loud crash coming from the back room. "SARAH!" Kaitlin could be heard. "SARAH COME BACK HERE!" The old woman shrieked.

 

The brunette whined under her breath, shoulders sagging ever so slightly as she made her way into the back.

 

Dayton watched her, smirking an amusement. The sound of the front door opening took away his attention. He looked; in the doorway was a young woman, no more than twenty five. Her blonde hair was braided and fell over her shoulder, she wore a black dress that clung to her slender body and a purse was tucked under her arm. She made a beeline for him.

 

"Fortunate that I've caught you alone." She murmured.

 

He blinked, "What?"

 

She set a large envelope on the counter. "I'm going to be frank with you, Dayton." She started. He moved to say something but she cut him off, "I have the means necessary to keep your brother alive."

 

He went rigid. "E-excuse me?"

 

She pushed the envelope towards him, "In here is a contract. Sign in, and I'll help you." Before he could get another word in, she turned and left.

 

He stared, dumbstruck. His eyes trailed down to the envelope. "What the hell?"

Chapter 3

Dayton got off work early so the walk home wasn't as perilous. He spent the entirety staring down at the envelope in his hands. Part of him just assumed the lady was pulling some cruel prank on him, and that whatever was inside was just going to be something to mock him for being so gullible. The other part of him hoped it was true. Hell, he'd sign all the contracts in the world if that meant Dakota would get better.

 

It seemed rather far fetched, however. It seemed too easy. Just sign a contract and then... what? Dakota was just going to magically wake up? He'd spent eight years in his coma- in that damn hospital -and no one could do much of anything. What power would a stranger like that woman have to bring him back.

 

He sighed, tucking it under his arm as he walked through the entrance of the apartment building; he'd figure out what he was going to do with it later. He went for the stairs but didn't even reach the first step when someone grabbed his arm and jerked him back, turning him around. He looked down and wasn't surprised to see Grady, fuming.

 

"Look here you little leech!" The man roared, face flushed in anger. He jabbed Dayton in the chest, "Don't think that eviction notice was a joke. Don't come whinin' to me sayin' shit like 'Oh I almost have the money'." His imitation of Dayton was whiny and high pitched, "If I don't get the money by the end of this week, I'm haulin' your ass right on out of here."

 

Dayton knew the man would be annoyed, but this had far exceeded what he'd been preparing himself for. He wondered if he should have predicted this reaction? Either way, he nodded in response to Grady's rant. "Yes, sir, I understand."

 

Grady's forehead creased as he narrowed his eyes at Dayton. "You better." He grumbled, turning and storming off.

 

Dayton stood there for a moment longer. He exhaled, muscles he hadn't known were tense relaxing when Grady was gone. He glanced down at the envelope and sighed, walking up the stairs, "Wouldn't it be nice if you could mystically pay all my bills, too?" He said under his breath.

 

He pulled his shoes off when he walked into the apartment and tossed them away. He went into the small excuse for a kitchen and opened the fridge. A couple of bottles of water and a wrapped sandwich from earlier in the week was all that was inside. Knocking his head against the fridge door, he grumbled. He grabbed the sandwich and made his way to his bed where he sat and dropped the envelope down.

 

He might as well just open it, he thought as he unwrapped his dinner. If it was a prank, then he'd just throw it out. But if it wasn't... if somehow, this could actually help him... Well he didn't want to pass up that chance, however slim the possibility seemed. Holding the sandwich between his teeth to free both hands, he opened the large envelope, pulling out the contents. The first thing that he saw was the card that fell into his lap. He picked it up, looking it over. Scrawled across it was a phone number, underneath it was written, 'If you decide to sign, call me.'

 

He shoved the card into his pocket for future use- if he would ever actually need to use it, of course -and picked up the papers and looked at those next. Like the woman had said, it appeared to be a contract.

 

'This is a contract made between Charlotte K. Lawson and Dayton A. Wilson in concern of Dakota E. Wilson's physical well-being.'

 

Dayton took the sandwich from his mouth, "Charlotte." He said over a bite of food. He frowned at the use of his and Dakota's full names, but at least he wasn't at a disadvantage; he knew her full name now as well. He skimmed through the following paragraphs,

 

'This medication, while still in its experimental stages, is said to have an effect similar to the Fountain of Youth.'

 

He scoffed at that, turning the page and taking another bite of his sandwich. He had to admit, he was disappointed. This was a prank after all. Someone must have went through a lot of trouble to be a huge dick.

 

'In order to receive the medication, Dayton A. Wilson would need to be willing to sign this contract, ultimately signing his services and completely obedience over to Charlotte K. Lawson for the remaining of his life or until she broke the contract.However, failure to follow Charlotte K. Lawson's orders and disobedience after signing is punished- and legally justified -with the termination of both Dayton A. Wilson and Dakota E. Wilson.'

 

He rose an eyebrow at that. "Who the hell thought I would actually fall for this shit?" He asked out loud, dropping the contract to the floor. He finished the sandwich and laid down in the bed. What a waste of time...

 

He didn't quite remember actually falling asleep, but he woke to loud banging at his door. He was slow to get out of bed and trudge his way to the door, opening it without a second thought as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. A phone was shoved in his face before he could get a