Truly Afraid [Ana]

This neighborhood was not what it had once been. She had moved to this house with her children close on to thirty years ago now, in an era that so dearly loved to try and tell her all the things she'd never accomplish, all the ways she was living her life wrong...she'd worked and struggled and in turn proved all of them wrong, succeeding in her work and life, in raising her children up to be successful adults. But over time everything around her started to chance, this once vibrant neighborhood started to slip away. The families left, the new people who moved in less than savory. Her children urged her more and more to leave, that it wasn't safe for her there anymore. But she'd lived here most of her life, this was her house, she was sort of a fixture of the neighborhood by this point, and stubborn as she was she didn't want to just walk away from it all. Not until she had no other choices.

She looked out her window and frowned to see the young man sprawled across the front of her lawn get up just enough to throw up next to one of her bushes. This unfortunately was not a completely uncommon sight these days, these young kids with nothing better to do with their time would take who knows what, and follow it up by passing out who knows where, regardless of who's area it was. She worked a fair amount with the youth still in the neighborhood, but was notoriously known for having little to no tolerance for drug use and the like, very vocal on how it ruined people's lives.

She slipped on her coat, and a small handgun into the pocket of her coat...she had never yet needed to use it, but she would rather be safe than sorry, especially when dealing people like this who could be wildly unpredictable and violent and stepped outside, walking slowly towards him.

"This is my yard...you'll need to find someplace else to be sick and strung out." She called out to him. "I have places you can go if you need them, but you can't just stay here."

Jamison was digging through his backpack to see what all was missing when he heard someone come out of the house, the owner of the yard he'd been dumped off into, there was a momentary feeling of panic as he looked around wildly, then up at the woman who approached him, "I...Ugh..." He put his hands on the side of his head, "I-I'm sorry ma'am..." He could stop the frightened shaking in his voice, more than a little freaked out by this whole situation, "I-I...They picked me up...I don't know wot they did t'me...I can't remember..." He rubbed at the sides of his head, trying to massage away the lingering migraine that whatever he was drugged with had left behind, "fuck...Fuck..." He whimpered softly, glancing back at her after a moment, "M'sorry..."

He let out a low groan as he tried to get to his feet again, wobbling terribly and glancing at her, "not strung out...They drugged me..." He looked around, swallowing the sick down, "that was...He glanced to the side to see the morning paper on the ground, "two days ago...Fuck..." He felt that horrible dizzy feeling wash over him again, and crumpled to a sitting position once more, "they took my wallet...I dunno wot else they did..." He glanced over his arms, now getting a look at the blood on his shirt and looking even more panicked, "fuck..."

As she came closer she could see the blood, the uneven stagger in his step, and realized she'd misjudged the situation. Her trained eyes already were looking him over to see if he was still actively bleeding, or any other signs to his true condition. On an even darker and more sinister note, crime had gone up around this area as well, and sadly even seeing this did not shock her...even if it was not easy to have to see or deal with. One learned to cope, but it never really did get easy to see or deal with.

She raised her hands out of her coat pockets in a calming gesture towards him. "You're bleeding...and if you have been drugged...you should be going to a doctor." Her whole tone and attitude changed from just wanted to get rid of him, to now concerned about his well being. It sounded like he might also need the services of the police, but there was the chance he himself was also on the wrong side of the law, and she didn't voice calling them yet, in case it only served to agitate him more, in his current condition.

This was fucked up. This was SO fucked up. He'd been doing this for such a long time without incident, or at least incident like this, he' never felt legitimately afraid or scared while being out on his own, but now he was in a completely unknown place, with no memory of the last two days, and he couldn't even go to the police about any of this, "this is fucked up..." He glanced up at the woman as she approached him, swallowing hard, "wh-where am I? Wot state?" He put his hands on the side of his head, groaning again, "I don't even remember wot they looked like..." All he could recall was a red van, not that it did him any good.

He glanced up at her, and suddenly the fear overwhelmed him and tears welled up in his eyes, "I-I ain't got a home or fam'ly here...I been driftin'...This has never happened before..." He gave her a cautious look, then glanced down, "I can't go t'the cops..." Should he tell her why? Surely she wouldn't turn him in, "...I ain't got no papers t'be here..." He glanced back up at her with a frightened expression, "I dunno wot t'do..." He couldn't shake the sick feeling in his gut, and it wasn't just from whatever they gave him.

Everything he said only served to make her more concerned on his behalf, something terrible had obviously happened to him. She wondered where he'd been picked up before this.

"Alright. It's alright." She spoke to him calmingly. "You're in Louisiana right now...where do you last remember being?" She asked.

"I'm not calling the cops on you. But you need medical care. You need to see a doctor." She insisted. "They can help you...and you need some help right now."

Jamison looked at her for a moment as he tried to remember where he'd been picked up, but hearing where he was now only served to make him more afraid, "I was...Alabama...I think...Somewhere 'round there..." He rubbed at his temples and looked down, "I was heading North..." And now he was way in the South, just what had they been doing with him in that span of time?!

He glanced at her when she assured him she wouldn't call the cops, swallowing hard and nodding, "thanks...I...Dunno this area..." He looked up at her, "where's th'closest hospital?" Not that he had any way to pay for a hospital visit, he realized, he had no money and obviously no insurance, it had never been needed before, but he was starting to realize that maybe he wasn't as prepared as he'd always thought.

She frowned, her concern growing. "That's a little bit of a ways from here..." She agreed. She wondered how he'd ended up more than 500 miles from where he started and what had happened to him in the meantime...and why here, in her front yard, but she was getting the feeling he didn't really have answers to those questions either.

"There isn't one close enough for you to walk to, especially not in your condition. If you'd like, I could give you a ride." She offered, watching his reactions as she did. He was disoriented, sick and hurt. People tended to act out in strange ways under those conditions, she knew, she'd seen it thousands of times in the past. Hopefully he would agree to get help, although if what he said was true and he didn't have paperwork, ID, or anything else, that would only complicate the situation further.

Jamison sighed softly, nodding, "I got no memory'a any of it..." That was the part that was scaring him the most, though he'd visibly calmed from the panic he'd been in previously, it was still weighing him down like lead, "thas' wot's messin' me up...I lost two days..." He shook his head slowly, making a soft sound before finally struggling to his feet.

He glanced up when she offered to drive him to the hospital, nodding with a somber look, "I-I guess that could work..." He couldn't deny a small put of anxiety at climbing into another random stranger's car, looking up at her, "wot's yer name? I-I'm Jamison..." He shuffled and looked unsure still, "will they even see me? I ain't got...I mean I'm basically a John Doe here t'the world..." That was a scary thought, he realized, he could have died and no one would have even ever known who he was, just another cold, unclaimed body in some morgue.

She could sense his anxiety and tried to put him at ease. "I'm Ana." She offered her name as he did his.

"If we go to emergency services, they're required to at least see you and treat what's critical." She explained. "They're good people there. I know, I worked there for many, many years. They'll help you."

She could understand his hesitation and anxiety over the situation, she couldn't imagine she would handle it any better were their positions reversed. She wanted to help, but she wanted him to feel comfortable with it first before she did things that he might act out against.

Jamison did visibly relax a bit when she shared her name, he didn't entirely think she was a threat to him, but after what had happened he really didn't want to get in the car of anyone who's name he didn't even know, "n-nice t'meet yew..." He wished their meeting had been under better circumstances, he glanced up when she spoke again.

It sounded alright, and after a few moments of careful thought he nodded and gave her a weak smile, "okay...Okay I'll go t'th'ospital with yew..." He was still nervous, but it was less of her and her intentions, and more a lingering dread over what had happened to him, "I been doin' this fer years y'know..." He mumbled this as he shouldered his backpack, ready to go, "ain't no one ever hurt me..." He swayed on his feet a tad as a dizzy feeling overtook him, "ugh...I dunno wot I'm gonna do after this..." How could he get around if he was afraid to hitch a ride with everyone he encountered?

She gestured to her car, indicating for him to come with her. She smiled when he agreed to go with her at least. "It'll be alright. You'll feel better afterwards. Wait here, I'm going to step inside and get my keys."

She stepped back inside the house for a moment, getting her purse and her keys, locking the door behind her as she came back to join him. She unlocked the door and got in, waiting for him to join her.

"Don't worry about what you're going to do next, you'll have time for that. Let's just get you treated right now, alright?" She continued in the calming voice. Once he was settled she took them both out of the driveway and towards the hospital. It wasn't far and the trip only took a handful of minutes before they were pulling in, she kept an eye on him through the drive, still concerned for him and his physical and mental state.

Jamison nodded vaguely as she spoke, looking around before going to lean against the vehicle to wait for her to grab her keys and whatever else she needed. He'd gone very quiet for the moment, a sort of dazed shock settling in, and he didn't know if he trust his legs to hold him steady, dizzy and lightheaded as he was.

When she came back he gave her a vague look as she spoke, sliding into the car and nodding again, "I'll try..." There was another feeling in the middle of the fear and the anxious sick feeling that was clawing for attention, he was angry, angry that people had taken advantage of him, that now he had to be afraid of everyone he came into contact with, "wish I coulda' remembered their faces." There was a soft growl in his voice, "I'd like to...to....ugh..." He sunk his head into his hands and shook it slowly, "it ain't never hit me before...But...I wish I had a home..." He'd never felt this loathsome for his lifestyle before, he imagined it was just the situation doing this to him, but the feeling was still awful.