Chapter 18

Abel snaps awake from the sudden knock on the door, grunting as the persistent headache grows momentarily stronger. He holds his head as he slowly gets up, yawning while he walks to open the door.

"I thought this is my day off", he snarls in his briefs to the two men on the door dressed in suits with his workplace's logo on them, so if you don't mind I'd like the two of you to get back to the lab and let me sleep my hangover away".

"T-that's the problem, sire, the subjects are gone", one of them stutters after his partner rushes him to talk.

"The janitor probably left the doors open or something", Abel speculates as he drops by the bathroom to get more painkillers, "I told the idiots to put the trackers on them and to install cameras."

"But-"

"No buts. Print Wanted-posters or put their pictures to milk cartons or something, just let me sleep".

The men bow with an embarrassed look on their faces and walk away from the door. Once Abel sees them turn to the stairs he shuts the door and checks the fridge for something to eat. 'I should've known she wouldn't buy anything to eat', he thinks to himself, 'I guess I have to get something myself'.

He digs a casual suit from his closet and puts it on, avoiding triggering his headache the best he can. He sighs as he finds a grey stain on his dress shirt. 'She's becoming more careless by the day'. He checks that his wallet and phone are in his satchel and once he gets his shoes on he leaves the apartment. As soon as he gets to the tram stop he pulls a business card out of his wallet, types the number on his phone and presses the 'call' button.

"King Armstrong Mental Hospital, Karen on the line"

"This is Abel Willems, I'd like to admit my wife in your care".

"The Abel Willems? I'm a big fan. But it is against the rules to admission without a proper diagnosis --"

"I apologize, and I know it is. But lately she has been extremely careless and switching between sadness and rage and last night she quite clearly attempted to kill herself".

"... I am so sorry, Mister Willems. I believe we can make an exemption. If I may get your address we can send people to get her".

"I already gave the address some days ago alongside a spare key when I got this card. It's supposedly on a post-it note".

"Oh, I see it. I'm sorry. I'll see to it that she'll get treatment as soon as possible".

"That would be great".

"Good-bye and thank you for calling!".

Abel ends the call and puts his phone into his bag. After a few minutes of waiting he takes a tram to the airport and checks in with his phone. 'Five hours to go', he thinks as he glances to the big screen with the flight information. He sits in a table in a nearby fine dining restaurant, orders multiple light, cold dishes, digs his sketchbook out of his bag and starts sketching the people around him, tuning his skill.