Building bridges, that was what Diane was doing. She was building bridges, attempting to forge new relationships. And if they be with psychopaths, so be it. Besides, she'd had the burglar alarm replaced, and maybe getting out and doing things that weren't to do with either her children or her work would be good for her. So Diane arrived at the hospital with some home-baked biscuits in a tub, hoping to see Alaric, again.
But no, "I'm sorry, ma'am, Alaric Morrow checked himself out a week ago." "Ah. May I take his address, please?"
Though the young woman at the desk told her it wasn't their policy, Diane managed to get it out of her without too much trouble, with a few sighs.
Off she went, slip of paper in hand, and she soon found the place, much to her delight. It wasn't quite so nice as she'd expected, but that was just the outside; maybe inside would be more palatable. Diane knocked on the door, and waited, a gnawing paranoia in her gut that made her feel sick and giddy.
