“Let me out!”

He banged on the wall.

Bam.

Still trapped.  

Bam.

Too much time had passed.

Bam Bam Bam

He was trapped inside what could only be described as a solitary hell.  Surely, he hadn’t done anything all that bad to deserve this kind of treatment?  He’d been trying.  He really had been.  It was just...well, he’d been desperate when he pulled that stunt.  He felt there was no other alternative, and that it couldn’t hurt to try.  Could they really blame him after everything he’d been going through?

Apparently, because he’d been thrown in here, and Simon didn’t seem to give a shit if he ever got out.  After all, it wasn’t his first trip to Isolation, and he’d been warned about the consequences of breaking the rules from the beginning.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz----Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

He wailed in agony and pressed his hands harshly over his ears, as he leaned his body against the glowing white wall with his eyes closed, trying desperately to drown out the sound.  He prayed for the guards to come, even though he hated them with every being in his body.  Being with them was a way out of this place, and that was all that mattered to Trace.  He needed some sanity, no matter how miniscule. Maybe Simon didn’t agree that he deserved any after what he’d done, but Simon would think he was a failure now no matter how hard he tried, so he’d given up trying to kiss ass.  It had been three Earth weeks since his escape attempt, and all he knew was that he was no closer to completing his goals than he had been at the beginning of the hellish stretch.

The buzzing suddenly subsided, but still he cringed, waiting for the jolt of electricity to surge through his body that he usually received whenever he put up a fight, but it never came.  Instead, the beautiful unlocking sound came, and Trace perked up as the gleaming wall slid aside.  Outside waited two guards dressed in flowing white robes, their faces blank as always, highly unamused by his banging.  Seconds later they yanked him out into the cool hallway.  He sobbed slightly, more thankful than ever to be out of the confines of Isolation even for a few seconds.  He dropped to his knees and took a few heavy, ragged breaths, trying to regain a little bit of strength before continuing on.

“Get up, Trace.”

“P-please don’t put me back in there...” he pleaded.  “Let me talk to Simon.  I’ll do anything...I-I’m sorry.  It’s so bad in there.  The buzzing is driving m-me out of my mind...”

He was yanked back to his feet by the guards, and gripped harshly by both arms.  He tried to walk, but found that his legs were like jelly, he hadn’t the strength to do it, so they dragged him down the hallway instead. He almost burst into tears, knowing he wasn’t being tossed back in that little white room just yet, and was thankful that they had his hands on him today.  Usually he struggled, spit in their faces, and shouted at them to let him go.  But he was so weak now...weaker than he’d ever been, and he knew why.  Simon told him this would start to happen once too much time had passed.  First it was the weakness, then...the emptiness.  Then the solitude...the solitude he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

He was desperate for a miracle.  For somebody to fucking understand that he was running out of time, and that he needed help, not sympathy.

But nobody back there understood, because they were too absorbed in their own crap to get it, and he felt he’d exhausted all the logical options.  There was nothing left to do now.  Talking to Justin was pointless.  The guy thought he’d gone crazy, and Trace knew that was what would have happened from the very beginning.  He tried to tell Simon that, but he didn’t wanted to hear it.

“Everybody can break through barriers like that,” he told him with a small smile.  “I see it happen all the time.  There’s nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise, Trace.  So get to work.”

He did remember the accident but he didn’t remember dying, or rather...the pain of it.  He only remembered how quiet it was as he floated up out of his body.  He was given a choice in the beginning, that he did remember.  He never saw a face, or a body, but he did hear a voice.  A voice telling him that things would be better if he let go, and so...he did, nearly regretting it, but knowing it was what he needed to do.  He saw Justin, saw the pain on his face when he realized that he wasn’t coming back, and he’d tried to call out to his friend, to tell him that he would be okay.  That he felt better now that he’d let go.

But Justin couldn’t hear him.

Nobody could.

He floated up and away into a serene and beautiful place full of swirling purple galaxies and shooting stars.  It reminded Trace of a really cool planetarium that he could play in forever.  He saw people in the distance too.  They were walking toward a welcoming entranceway, so he began to follow them out of sheer curiosity, wondering if this was what happened when you died.

When it came time for him to step through the passage, he was stopped immediately by two men in flowing white robes.  Their faces were aged by time, their long grey hair and beards surely marking their time in this place, and Trace automatically thought of one phrase he’d been taught so many times in his youth: “respect your elders”

“Trace?” One of them questioned, glancing at a list that floated in the air.

He was confused, so he sort of nodded.

“You’re not ready yet.”

“Ready?”

His question was never answered, because he’d been flushed away, or so it seemed.  He found himself spinning, whirling, and whooshing along a seemingly endless path.  It reminded him of somebody flushing him down a toilet, and he was scared.  More scared than he’d ever been, and the feeling didn’t go away when he suddenly slowed down, and was poured out into a crowded hallway with about fifty other perplexed looking people.  He could remember asking some guy that looked to be about his age where they were, but he seemed to be too scared to know what to say.

Then a loud sound had come from someplace up above, a screeching high pitched buzzing sound that forced Trace to press his palms against his ears and cry out for mercy.

It was a sound he would learn about much too soon, and come to dread above all else.

“Attention New Comers!” A female voice boomed once the buzzing had subsided.  Many people had fallen down to the floor in relief, but Trace only stood there, much too perplexed to consider moving.  He’d always been level headed in life though, never one to panic.  That was Justin’s issue, panicking, and Trace always figured it was why he made such a good assistant, because he could always hold himself together during tense situations.

This moment was no different.

“Welcome to the Ward!” The voice continued.  “Please do not be alarmed.  This is standard procedure for those of you who have not had the chance to place certain affairs in order.  You will be met by your Progress Mediators in just a few moments, and everything will be explained to you shortly afterward.  We hope you enjoy your stay at the Ward, and wish you the very best of luck at achieving your goals, so you can move on to the Next Step.”

The speech repeated several times before anything changed.  Some people were crying, others were huddled against the walls still, but Trace...Trace was laughing.  He got a kick out of how orderly death seemed to be.  It wasn’t at all like it was cracked up to be, with sunshine and babies laughing.  He thought about Justin, wishing he could have told him about it.  He knew they would have laughed their asses off and then popped open a beer...

It was only then that he began to feel sad.  That he began to miss his life, and the people in it.  He realized he didn’t have a chance to settle anything before he died.  To tell people he loved them, and...the baby...

He would never see the baby.

If Simon hadn’t come to retrieve him moments later, he probably would have wound up sobbing along with half the people surrounding him, but he was pulled out of there before he had the chance to lose it.  

“I’m Simon and I’ll be handling your case.”  He shook Trace’s hand very quickly as they walked through a passage ahead.  It was guarded by two more men in flowing robes, and with one smile and nod to them from Simon they were allowed to pass without an issue. Simon didn’t dress in white robes, but in a black business suit instead.  He carried a briefcase too, as a lawyer would. He was tall like Justin, had wavy blonde hair that curled more at the tips, a clear baby faced complexion, and glasses that almost made him look like a nerd, but not quite. He was very young too, from what Trace could tell.  Maybe even younger than he was, but it was obvious that he was well put together...knew what he was doing.  Trace thought it was a good thing. If the entertainment industry taught him anything, it was that you had to surround yourself with good, trustworthy people if you had any hope of being successful.  Trace considered himself lucky back then, because he trusted Simon.  

Now he felt like an idiot for putting so much faith in the guy.

“Sorry I’m late,” Simon continued.  “I had to see a client through to the Next Step this morning.”

Trace sort of nodded.  He hadn’t thought Simon had been very late at all.  “Trace,” he informed him.  “Trace...um...”

He realized then, that he no longer remembered his last name.

“It’s okay.  Everybody forgets things like that,” Simon reassured him, as they passed through another doorway that had the words ‘General Population’ looming above them in large glowing white letters.  “You won’t need to know your last name anymore.  All of that changes when you move on anyway.  Your first name will do for now.”

“But what if I want to know?” He questioned Simon as they began to walk faster.  “I mean, it’s kind of irritating.”

“With everything you’re going to have to do, remembering your last name won’t be a priority, trust me.”

Trace didn’t know it then, but Simon was absolutely right.

They took some sort of tram to their next destination.  Trace thought it would be during this trip that he’d be filled in about everything that was going on, but when he sat down on the plush, cushiony seat the tram lurched forward, reaching an unreasonably fast speed in the matter of a few seconds.  It caused his voice to become lodged in his throat as he gripped the arms of the seat, trying desperately to hang on.  They’d stopped again before he could manage to utter one word to his guide, the trip seemed to take just seconds, and a voice signaled that they’d reached their final destination from someplace above their heads.

“What was that thing?” Trace panted, as Simon helped him to get out of the tram and onto the street.

“The Speedotram.  If you take it in the opposite direction, you’ll reach our industrial park.  That’s where you’ll be spending part of your days,” he told him, as if it made complete sense.  “I’ll explain later.  Come on, we’re nearly there.”

Trace followed him in a daze, down a long sidewalk filled with buildings that people were milling in and out of.  It reminded him of Earth, but he figured that was the intent.  There was a park in the distance, a movie theater, some kind of food stand on a corner, a large, classy looking restaurant, and finally the building that Simon led him up to.  It was the largest building on the street, and it seemed all too inviting despite it’s very plain appearance.  It wasn’t labeled, but it reminded Trace of a hotel.  The doors opened for them automatically once they placed their feet on the stones steps, and Trace followed Simon into a contemporary looking hotel lobby.  Strangely shaped art and furniture littered all areas of the room, and the people milling around were dressed exactly the same, white tees and blue cotton hospital pants, with white slip on clogs to match.  Again, he was able to see perplexed looks on many of their faces.  Some looked tired, too tired to carry on, and then...some looked happy, like they’d just been awoken from a horrible dream.  Seeing their outfits reminded Trace to look at his own clothing, and he shuddered, realizing he was still wearing the hospital gown that he’d died in.  

“Where are we?” Trace whispered to Simon as he followed him up to a desk that was labeled ‘New Comers and Check Outs’, in large gold letters.

“This is where you’ll be staying when you aren’t working,” Simon informed him.  “Get as much rest as you can while you’re here, if you know what’s good for you.”

Trace swallowed hard, already not liking the situation.  He stared at the back of Simon’s head while he talked to another man in a flowing white robe that was working behind the desk.  Where was he and why had he been selected to come here rather than move on through that doorway in space?  Of course he missed his family and friends, but wasn’t that a given? Didn’t everybody feel that way when they died?

Simon turned back to him after several minutes of conversing with the man behind the counter.  Now he had a large envelope and a small white glowing box in place of the briefcase he’d been carrying.  “Come on,” he nodded at him, before turning quickly and walking in the opposite direction.

“What if I don’t want to?” Trace called back, still standing firmly in the same place Simon had left him before checking in at the desk.  “Maybe I don’t want to do this.”

Simon stopped abruptly in his tracks, and turned back around with a queer sort of smile on his face, as if he’d never faced resistance from a dead person before.  “Do you really want to know what happens to people that don’t cooperate? You just got here, Trace.”

Trace crossed his arms defiantly across his chest.  “How bad could it be?  I’m already dead.” He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice, but failed miserably.

“Just come on,” Simon sighed.  “Once you get to your room, you’ll feel a lot better, and this will all make more sense.”

Trace didn’t know what exactly made him follow Simon that day, but looking back on it now, he really wondered if he would have been doing himself a favor by not cooperating.  He would have just vanished the next day...been a floater forever, but it must have been better than this...only existing so he could try to complete impossible goals.  He would have rather been alone from the beginning.  At least Justin would have been less confused, and he’d still have most of his sanity.

The room had been nice upon first glance.  Spacious and roomy, a commodity he’d grown accustomed to in his former life.  There was a large living room with a big screen TV mounted to the wall, which Simon told him could tune into any channel on Earth.  This pleased Trace because he hated to miss CSI Miami.  Even though, he knew he wouldn’t have the same passion for the show now that he was dead.  There was no kitchen, but Simon told him that all meals were served in the restaurant down the street and he would be sure to find something that he most liked to eat every night he was there.  The bedroom was the best though.  The bed was so comfortable, that when Trace merely sat on it, it seemed to almost will him to sleep.  He laid down on it soon after discovering it, a smile on his face, ready to forget about everything and sleep for eternity.

“Not so fast.”

He was yanked out of the bed, and he groaned when his body hit the floor.  “What the hell?”

“We need to talk first.”  Simon patted a chair that sat next to the large window at the other end of the bedroom.  Trace picked himself up from the floor and staggered over to it, taking a moment to peer out, and quickly realized that he wasn’t looking out into the bustling world he was currently in...but into Justin’s hospital room instead.  There he was, sulking by the window while his mother tried to comfort him, but he wouldn’t look at her.  Trace felt himself become choked up automatically, and tore his gaze from the scene in front of him so he could look to Simon for an explanation.

“It’s so you can know what’s going on, all the time,” Simon informed him, as he tore open the envelope in his hands and began to spread paperwork across the heavenly bed.  “We used to have a separate building for this sort of thing, but found people got more results when they were able to focus on their issues in privacy and comfort.  That remote there...” he trailed off and pointed to a remote on the nightstand.  “You can flip through and choose the different people in your life that you’d like to view.  It’s very useful, cuts down on wasted time.  You could say it puts your mind in the right direction, and I hope you get good use out of it.”

“Thanks...” he trailed off, knowing he didn’t really mean it.  ‘Now, would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

Simon chuckled a little bit, and picked up one of the papers on the bed. His eyes scanned it for several moments before he looked back at him again, his expression solemn, and Trace didn’t know what to make of it.  “It says here you were in a car accident.”

Trace nodded.  “Yeah.”  

“And that your friend...that one there, was driving the car,” Simon pointed at the window where Justin was still pictured.  “He’d had too much to drink.  You two shouldn’t have been driving anywhere that night, am I right?”

It came flooding back to him.  His fight with Elisha, how she’d begged him not to get in the car, how he had anyway, knowing that he and Justin were both drunk.  What had been running through his mind? He physically shuddered.  Not only did he ruin his own life, but most likely the lives of everybody involved in it.  He plopped down into the chair beside the window and took in a deep breath, feeling the bitterness and resentment he felt towards Justin filling him up inside.  He wondered why Justin hadn’t been smarter.  Surely, he must have known they could both be killed, driving through New York City drunk out of their minds?

And because of his best friend, he was dead.  Robbed and cheated from the life he barely had the chance to live at twenty-four years old.  “I...I didn’t remember...” he murmured.

“It’s okay, Trace,” Simon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “That’s why the Ward was created, so people like you can fix things before moving on.  Things that need to be fixed anyway.”

Trace shook his head roughly.  “If this is about Justin, you can forget it.  I’m done helping him.”

“It doesn’t matter if I forget about it or not,” Simon responded and plopped a set of papers in Trace’s lap.  “These are your goals.  Whether you or I agree with them isn’t up for consideration.”

Trace frantically read the first paper, resenting the fact that he’d ever followed Simon’s direction in the first place.  The text was larger than life, seeming to leap right off the page, as if it was trying to push him around.  It stated the following:

WELCOME TO THE WARD TRACE,

THE FOLLOWING GOALS ARE TO BE MET IN A TIMELY FASHION, AS DESCRIBED IN YOUR CONTRACT.  FAILURE TO DO SO, WILL RESULT IN DISCIPLINARY ACTION.

GOAL #1: YOU MUST FIND A WAY TO FORGIVE YOUR FRIEND FOR HIS TRAGIC MISTAKE.  ONE THAT ALLOWS BOTH OF YOU TO MOVE ON.

GOAL #2: YOU MUST BRING FINAL CLOSURE TO YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH HIM.  ONE THAT WILL STOP HIM FROM TRYING TO CONTACT YOU FOR THE REST OF HIS TIME ON EARTH.

THESE ARE YOUR GOALS.  YOU ARE NOT, UNDER AND CIRCUMSTANCES, TO ADD, MODIFY, OR TAKE AWAY FROM THIS LIST.  WE ARE WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE.  FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN DISCIPLINARY ACTION.  PLEASE SEE YOUR PROGRESS MEDIATOR WITH ALL QUESTIONS/CONCERNS.

REMEMBER, FORGIVENESS IS ONE OF THE GREATEST GIFTS THAT ONE HUMAN CAN GIVE TO ANOTHER.

REGARDS AND BEST OF LUCK,

THE CEO

He read the paper twice more before finding the strength to look back at Simon again.  He couldn’t believe what he was being asked to do.  How the hell could he begin to forgive Justin for being so damn irresponsible? What was more, he was dead...so how the hell could he just...go talk to him, and make everything okay?  “This is fucking...just...”  He threw the papers across the room and they fluttered to the floor.  “How the hell do you expect me to do this shit?”

“Look, I know it’s overwhelming,” Simon said gently.  “But it’s the only way, Trace.”

“I’m dead!” He hollered.  “Or did you not get that memo?”  He pushed himself up from the chair angrily.  “What the hell is this place?” He demanded.

“You’re in between right now,” Simon explained.  “You have unfinished business back on Earth.  Too much of it, and the CEO thought it best that you come to the Ward, so you have a chance to fix things for yourself.  I guess you can call this Limbo.  That’s what you people call it on Earth right? It’s been so long since I lived there...I just can’t remember the terminology anymore.”

Trace vaguely remembered learning about Limbo in middle school.  He had a cool English teacher that used to teach them some things off the beaten path.  He didn’t remember much of the lesson, all he knew was that ancient people believed it to be a place you went before you were judged after you died.  “I’m...I’m being judged?” He rasped.

Simon laughed out loud.  “Geez, no.  That was so a thousand years ago.  It’s not Limbo here, literally.  I was just trying to help you understand.  Sorry for the confusion.”

“Yeah.” Trace droned sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.  “Well...who’s this CEO then?”

“The leader of the universe,” Simon said expertly.

“Ri-ight.”  Trace plopped down into the chair again, and glanced out the window.  Somebody had put Justin in bed, and his face was pressed into his pillow.  Trace could tell his body was quivering, a sure sign that he was crying himself to sleep.  “Well, is the leader of the universe willing to accept the fact that I can’t change him?” He pointed out the window.  “He’s fucked up and he can’t walk, not to mention that he’s the most stubborn person on the face of the planet.  It’s better that I leave him alone, Simon.”

“He needs you.  He needs your forgiveness.”  

Trace looked back at Justin, the resentment still flaring wildly inside of him, and for the first time he felt real tears spilling out of his eyes.  “I don’t care what he needs.  It’s not my problem anymore.”

“I know this is hard.”  

The next time Trace was able to look up, Simon was crouched before him, handing him one of the papers that had been flung across the room.  “You don’t know,” Trace whispered.  “You aren’t me.  You didn’t live my life.  I...I have a baby on the way, or at least I did.  Now I’m here...”  He trailed off and rubbed the tears out of his eyes.  “And you and some deranged universe person are telling me the only way I can move past what happened, is to go try to talk to that wreck in the hospital bed?  Well, fuck you, I’m not doing it.”

“You should rest and have a nice dinner,” Simon said, as he handed him a pen to go with the form that he’d placed in Trace’s lap.  “I promise, once you do, you’re going to feel more motivated to do this.  Trust me, this is my job.  I deal with people like you all the time.  Now just sign this, and we can move on to the next thing.”

Trace finally looked down at the form in his lap after several moments, realizing it was the contract that was mentioned in the previous letter.  It was long, full of fine print, and he knew he didn’t have the energy to read it all.  

“All it’s saying is that you agree to complete your goals to the best of your ability,” Simon provided.  “We start you off with one Earth month to get them done, and then...if things don’t go as planned, we reevaluate and try again.  Most people that fail only need that one reevaluation to fix the problem, so don’t let that intimidate you.”

“What happens if I can’t complete the goals?” He asked softly.

“That’s why I’m here.  My job is to make sure you do it, and that you move on to the Next Step.  I have a 99 percent success rate, top of my department six years in a row, so I don’t want to hear you talk like that anymore.”

“You’re not answering my question though,” Trace persisted, never being one to back down when he wanted a straight answer from somebody.  “What happens if, for some reason, I fall into that one percent category?”

Simon scratched the back of his head and sighed.  “You really want to know?”

“Yeah,” Trace told him seriously.  “I do.”

“You’re forced to stay on Earth, forever,” Simon muttered.  “You don’t get a second chance at this.”

Trace only shrugged.  “Well that’s not so bad right?  I’d get to be with my family again.”

“No.”  Simon shook his head.  “You’ll become what we call a floater.  Always wherever you want to be, but nobody will be able to see you, and you won’t be able to contact them either.  You’ll just sort of be...like vapor, like you never even existed.”

His expression had fallen.  “Oh.”

“Let’s not discuss it,” Simon persisted.  “I hate talking about that idea.  Just sign the contract, Trace.”

He often wondered what would have happened if he didn’t sign.  Would he have been given another option, perhaps a meeting with the CEO? He didn’t have the answer, because he didn’t give himself enough time to think out his options.  He just signed the contract, signed away his soul, because he felt that Simon would protect him from harm...that he would help him through his trials with Justin.  

But he quickly learned that Simon was never really there to help.  Just to criticize, shout in his face like some deranged drill sergeant whenever he pissed him off.

Once the contract was signed, Simon opened up the small white box that he’d been holding, and pulled out a thick clear plastic bracelet.  “Wrist out, please.”

Trace did it without a question.  He’d been so damn naive in the beginning.

The bracelet glowed a brilliant white once it locked onto his wrist, and Trace noticed that his first name was imprinted on it, along with a number.  There was a little red light that blinked on and off on the side of it too, like some kind of alarm waiting to be set off. “What’s this?” He asked, as he tugged at the bracelet a little bit. It didn’t budge.  It was almost like it had become a part of him upon touching his skin, but it didn’t hurt him.  Actually, he couldn’t even feel it most of the time.

Unless he was being bad.

“Security precaution.  It comes off when you leave,” Simon reassured him.  “When you go to earth for your goals it won’t show, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Security?” he scoffed. “Why would you need security here?”

“It keeps people from...” he trailed off nervously, as if he knew he was starting to tell Trace too much.  “Just pay attention to the rules, and you’ll be fine.  There aren’t that many of them, and I can tell that you’re not a trouble maker.  If you have an issue, just come to me.  Don’t take things into your own hands.  That’s how trouble starts.”

He knew Simon was trying to explain all of it in a way that he could understand, but the truth was, he was growing more confused by the second.  “Trouble?”  

Simon only sighed, and flashed him a light smile.  “Just rest.”  He gathered the papers and folded them neatly in his hands.  “When you wake up, it should be dinner time.  I hear they have some venison on the menu tonight.  You like that right?”

Trace didn’t know how the guy knew what his favorite food was, but figured it was better not to ask him anymore questions.  “I used to go deer hunting,” he admitted softly.  “I’d cook what I killed.”

“Ah well, then you’ll love it.  I’m sure it’ll taste even better than before.  Be at my office tomorrow morning around nine.  I have to train you how to use the portal.  If you need anything else tonight, just press that button by the door and someone will assist you.  Oh, and if you want a change of clothes try the closet.”  

With a wink, Simon walked out of the room, letting the door close gently behind him.

At first Trace didn’t know what to do with himself, but he thought the idea of being able to rest was insane.  He explored the closet for something to wear other than a hospital gown, and found it filled with white tee shirts, blue cotton pants, and pairs of white slip on clogs.  It was boring attire.  He wanted jeans and his favorite polo shirt instead, but figured it didn’t really matter what he wore in this place. Nobody had the time to notice, or care.   After he changed, he watched Justin cry for a while, and then, when that didn’t do anything but depress him even more, he decided to watch the TV that Simon told him about.  At first he enjoyed it, but then he started to remember things about his life on Earth.  He began to think about his Elisha, and how he loved to fall asleep on the couch watching TV with her.  He tried to remember the way she smelled, the way her lips would taste when they kissed, what their last conversation had been about before the night of the accident.  It seemed too difficult though.  It was as if he could remember every thing about Justin, but almost nothing about Elisha, besides that he’d loved to watch TV with her and that she was carrying his child.  Part of him wondered if he only remembered his baby because he never had the chance to tell Justin about it.

The idea disgusted him, so he threw the remote at the television and staggered back into the bedroom, falling onto the bed with a pitiful sob, before the sheets, pillows, and comforter seemed to lull him off to sleep all on their own.

He felt like he’d been asleep for centuries when his eyes fluttered open again, but when he looked at the clock on the nightstand, it was only several hours later.  It was a strange sort of magic he guessed, because he couldn’t remember a time when he felt so good. He got out of bed without feeling any sort of fatigue, and when he took a shower, it felt like the best thing he’d done for himself in years.  He even smiled once he got out and dressed himself again.  Then the hunger took over him, like a heavy force, and he knew he needed to eat something before his good mood faded away again.  He didn’t look down at Justin through the window before he left the security of his room, for fear that it would put him in a dark mood again, and walked out without looking back.  

The staff stationed down in the lobby greeted him with a warm smile and a ‘good evening, Trace’ as if they’d known him for years and he was a vital part of their family.

It gave him a sense of hope, like he could achieve the goals he’d been given as if it were so simple.  Looking back now, he figured that was the point of everything these people did.  They wanted him to focus, to want to move on, and well...he couldn’t blame them.  Nobody could stay at the Ward forever.  There just wasn’t enough room, as he would find out.

He walked out of the hotel and down the block.  The food cart was closed, as night had fallen.  He found that it was clearest night he’d ever seen.  When he looked up into the sky, it almost took his breath away.  He could still see those swirling purple galaxies and the shooting stars that he’d seen in the beginning.  Of course, they were much farther away now, reserved for those who were ready...not for those at the Ward to visit.

He longed to go back there.  It seemed to call to him, to beckon him, but he had no way of getting there.  The only way was to complete his goals, so it seemed then, and at that point he had no clue how he was supposed to do it.

The only option for food seemed to be the fancy restaurant he passed earlier in the day, and upon seeing the droves of people filing into the place, he figured he was just in time for dinner.  He made his way towards it warily, his stomach growling with hunger.  Weakness, he felt it for the first time since he woke up.  It scared him, and when he walked into the restaurant, his mouth began to water at the tantalizing aromas that filled his nostrils.  He felt like running a waiter down and savagely demanding food, but figured he needed to control himself.  None of the other people consuming their food appeared to be wild like that, and he didn’t want to be put on the shit list his first evening out on the town.

“Table, sir?”  A man in a long flowing white robe approached him, his smile kind and welcoming.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”
No sooner had he said the words, did a table appear several feet away from him, and Trace nearly did a double take.  “Wow.”

“Have a seat.  The menu is rather large, so take your time.  A simple raise of your hand will be sufficient when you’re ready to place your order.”

With a small nod, Trace sat down and began to survey the menu.  The man was right.  The menu wasn’t just huge, it was more like a novel, separated by cuisine and country.  He thought of Justin again in that moment, who had always been somewhat of a food guru, and Trace knew he would have liked the place.  It seemed so private, so quiet, so peaceful.  That was how Justin liked things, since most of his life was immersed in chaos.   

Trace dropped the menu and shook his head.  The last person he wanted to think of then was Justin, but it was like some unknown force was pushing him to do it.

“First night here?”

A sweet, calming voice broke him out of his dark thoughts for the moment.  When he looked in the direction it had come from, he found a pretty brunette girl seated at the table just feet away from his own.  She was young, probably around his age, with wavy shoulder length hair, light rosy cheeks, and a small button like nose.  Her hazel eyes seemed to hold the world in them, and Trace got the feeling that if he asked her something, she would have the answer for him.  “Yeah,” he sighed tiredly.  “Yours too?”

“No, it’s my third, but I feel like I’ve been here for years.  Do you know it’s been an entire Earth week since I first got here? Crazy right?”  She smiled when she should have frowned.  She was making the best of things.

His kind of woman.

Trace didn’t quite understand the concept of time at the Ward then, but now, he really wished he paid more attention.  It might have helped him, pushed him a long a little bit more.  “A week? How?”

The girl simply shrugged her small shoulders.  “I’m not sure.  I tried asking my Mediator about it, but he didn’t really want to explain things.  He just told me to rest and have a nice dinner.”

Trace chuckled.  “Sounds like Simon.”

“You have Simon too?” The girl seemed to light up at the prospect.  “He’s seems nice, I guess.  He says he has a 99 percent...”

“Yeah, I know.  Best in his department,” Trace interrupted her.  He really didn’t wanted to talk about Simon.  

“Sorry,” she winced slightly.  

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry.” Trace told her quickly, feeling bad about his attitude.  “I’m just...starving.”

“Oh, so was I the first night.  I almost attacked the waiter,” she laughed.

He eyed the empty seat across from her.  “Want company?”

She seemed delighted.  “Yeah, that would be great.”

Her name was Amy, and just like him, she couldn’t remember her last name either.  She was from Georgia and her life had come to a sudden end during a horrific hunting accident with her father.  They talked about hunting a lot...hunting and horses, which were his favorite things to indulge in when he wasn’t working with Justin.  It was nice to find somebody he could relate to here.  Everybody else was so cold, so focused...just wanting to move on, and he couldn’t blame them.  He started to meet her at the restaurant every night for dinner.  It comforted him, especially on the worst days.  The days when Justin was being impossible, and Trace had no other alternative but to leave in frustration. As they grew closer, they even talked about moving on to the Next Step together.  Amy thought it was a neat idea to have somebody she trusted by her side when all of that happened.  As time grew on, they both heard rumors that you were able to pick a partner to travel with if you met someone while staying at the Ward, and once...during a meeting with Simon Trace brought up the subject.  Of course Simon was frustrated, so he shot Trace a sarcastic smile and said ‘well, you’d be able to see if that was true or not if you got your act together, wouldn’t you?’

Sometimes, Trace hated Simon.  

The only problem with Amy was, her goals hadn’t been all that complicated, and now that so much time passed, she was on the tail end of her second goal.  She probably would have been done with it sooner, but she let the time for her second goal elapse the first time around, causing her to go into reevaluation, making some stupid excuse to Simon that she hit a dead end and needed more time.

Naturally, Amy was granted more time, because it was her first offense, but Simon had been adamant with her that it was her only chance to move on with good marks on her record.  Simon knew she failed because of her feelings for Trace, and it angered him.  She was told that nothing was more important than her own future, and to sacrifice it for ‘those who didn’t want to put forth the effort’ was an idiotic move.  Trace made her promise never to do it again.   After all, it wasn’t her fault that everything about his life was complicated.  It wasn’t her fault that Justin was a stubborn idiot at times.

“If I don’t make it, you have to go, Amy.  You have to get out of here,” he told her.
 
She cried.  They spent the night together in his room, and it was the first time he realized how distant of a memory Elisha had become.  He just...couldn’t love her anymore, because he was dead and she was alive.  That was the way things had to be, and so...he forced the last of his feelings for her out of his system.    Only the feelings he had for Justin remained now, and funnily enough those were the feelings he would have gladly given away in the very beginning.  But the CEO was too smart to let him.  

“You’re my best friend,” she told him after dinner a few nights later, as they walked back to the hotel.  “I don’t want to move on if it means I can’t be with you, Trace.”

He stopped walking and pulled her close to him.  “I have a plan,” he whispered to her softly as he stroked her hair.  “I’m not going to let you down.”

She pulled back from him, her eyes watery, but didn’t let herself cry.  Instead, she pulled his face towards hers, and kissed him powerfully.  Trace felt their connection, the electricity was flowing through his body like he’d come back from the dead.  He was committed to her now, and he would succeed.  He would escape and be with her.

It was his only way out, unless he completed the goals, which was turning out to be an unlikely possibility.