Damien Thorn (sonofajackal) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-11-16 05:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | damien thorn |
Who: Damien Thorn Salvatore
Where: His apartment
When: Afternoon
What: Working. Blame the amnesia.
Rating: R
Status: COMPLETE; Narrative
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Damien had woken up early, just as he always remembered doing. He didn't often have a chance to spend time in his place. Seemed like all he did was eat and sleep here, and occasionally watching the news. His home wasn't exactly appealing. It was a cheap apartment in the downtown section of the city. But really, that was pretty much all one could when they work as an orderly at the hospital. He only had enough for rent most times. It sucked, because there were a few movies he'd wanted to see. He just had basic TV and a Playstation 1. But he didn't think too negatively on it. Complaining never got anyone anywhere. You had to work with what you had and rise above it somehow as best you could, especially if you were meant for greatness. Though in the grand scheme of things.. running errands for doctors and keeping supplies stocked up wasn't quite as fun as a being a CEO would be. Wearing those fancy clothes, though now all he had was casual wear, just shirts and jeans. He would probably make a good CEO. But that was another life. As it was, he kept himself busy.
He spent some time after hours walking by the children's wing, looking at the coma ward, and once in a while stopping by to see the elderly few who were terminally ill. He always wished that things could be better. Things didn't always work out. But when people got to go home? That made him happy. And of course, there was church services. He attended every Sunday. The young man would help volunteer in passing the plate around the pews. Unfortunately, he could never give more than a couple dollars. He would try to help with bake sales when they had them. He liked the church atmosphere. It was calming. There was always a hint of something deep under the surface, but he usually passed it off as not getting enough sleep at night. He had dreams about his real parents Dave and Miriam when he was a baby, before the car crash. It was all he knew. Just glimpses were all he had of them. The rest of his life had been spent being raised with a middle-aged Catholic couple who were unable to bear a child on their own. They often felt that God had given him to them, and so they named him after one of the saints.
As he thought back on all this, he hurriedly got dressed, putting on the bland white clothes. Slacks and button-up shirt. All white. He had a cellphone then, looking at it, seeing the time. He had twenty minutes to get to the place. "Dammit, gonna be late-" Shaking his head, he looking around. "Damn. My keys! Where, where did.. oh." He found them on his counter, just where he left them before. He ran out the door and moved to his car. It was a used 1994 Ford Tempo. Had a couple scratches on it. But that didn't matter. It got him from A to B, that's all that counts for him. He jumped in and started it up, peeling out of the parking lot and driving on the road. As he drove in the city, listening to the radio, Damien wondered what his work day had in store with him. It was occasionally something new each time, though it also seemed mostly routine...