He had been in a daze since he had gotten knocked out at the Terrace. He remembered Alexa de’Crux being present but couldn’t quite remember the name of the other person. Everything seemed cloudy, as if he was walking through a summer haze. Certainly, he was awake, cognizant, but at the same time he felt his actions were only slightly his own.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He glanced down at the alarm on his neocom. The med-tech at Cerra Manor had set it so that it would go off every few minutes. Reginald reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a bottle of prescription medications. It was supposed to help. To keep the voices away. He popped one into his mouth before reclining on one of the empty seats on the Terrace that led towards the sea.
The night’s events were hazy to him, but the voices–the screams–had probably driven him to the Terrace. He rubbed his arm absentmindedly to see that it had been freshly bandaged. He wondered if Alexa had reported his condition to Lunarisse Aspenstar. The last he needed was concern from outside of the Manor.
He sent a message to Lady Lianne.
“I need help.” – Regi
He didn’t want to trouble Kat. Not now of all times. What would she think of him?
A series of notifications popped onto his neocom as the beeping started again. They were leaving. His corporation, which had led the militia for three months in confirmed kills–the members were leaving. It was all finally unraveling, what he had built for the better part of a year, what he had toiled to keep functioning. He was losing it all. He’d be a laughingstock at home.
But it was the right thing to do.
Damn this daze!
He gripped the prescription bottle and chucked it out towards the sea. The medications were numbing his senses. He hadn’t thought clearly for nearly a week and they weren’t helping in the slightest. He winced as his wounded arm smarted.
Sighing emptily, he returned to his quarters at the Manor.