Patrick+Hughes

Full Name: __** ELIMINATED **__

From: Providence, Rhode Island Gender: Male Ethnicity: White Traits (Appearance): Reason for coming on board: Representative of the Feingold Gehle Group, an investment bank that helped fund Dante's. After constant delays in construction and seemingly erratic replacement of workers, the bank sent Patrick to Shackleton to investigate. Brief History: Anything else (optional):

= DAY ONE = **"DANTE'S AMUSEMENT PARK"**

//At least the sign checks out,// Patrick thought. Patrick Hughes felt around in his coat pocket for the envelope. Inside were three items: A memo from his boss, a pamphlet that had been sent in the mail around the country, and a ticket to gain entrance. He opened up the memo again. He had read it before, but Patrick was known for triple-checking his work. It was short and brunt, as Kurt always was:

Patrick, We have a few questions for our client out in Shackleton, Ohio. Mr. Dante's building schedule has been erratic to say the least. On top of that, he's been unresponsive to our latest attempts to contact him. I need you to fly out there and supervise the construction. Make sure everything is coming together. - Kurt And here he was. Wonderful Shackleton, Ohio. He thought of those poor fools who had to head to New York or San Fransisco, even that guy who was sent all the way to Hong Kong! Oh boy, were they missing out.

At least Patrick liked amusement parks. He could have fun here.

In fact, that would be his first order of business. Before he checked on the workers. Before he talked to Dante. He would enjoy himself, for once in his life.

Patrick walked to the gate and handed his pass to the ticket master. He was in.

= Day Two = Patrick stood in line for the roller coaster. Not //a// roller coaster, but //the// roller coaster. It was the biggest in the park. He was elate. He hadn't been on a ride since that trip back in high school, and then he was too afraid to ride the exciting ones. But things had changed since then. He wasn't the gawky buy he had been back then. He was a successful businessman now. He worked for an important investment bank, he brought home a six digit salary. Sure, Kristen had left him a few months back, but he was getting through that now. Besides, Patrick could swear that the cute secretary was flirting with him. There was something there, he would repeatedly tell himself. The line was moving now. He was almost to the front. //God, this is going to be great,// Patrick thought to himself. //Things are about to change. I'll be a new man, not that shy boy from high school.//

The car came off the rails as he was riding, having the time of his life. Patrick Hughes was dead.

=Day Three= At least he died happy. See? There he was, a new man, making the best out of the situation.

Now, in this case, the "situation" was "pushing up daisies" or "in a better place". Phrase it however you'd like, Patrick Hughes was D-E-A-D dead. But he wasn't //gone//. I mean, physically, sure, his body was still there. At least most of it. Some bits and pieces were sure to be missing and his guts wouldn't quite fit back into his stomach.

But it's more then that, alright? Patrick was still around, could still see and hear and smell. He wasn't alive, but he was still //aware//, yeah? Like a spirit, or a ghost.

Patrick watched, assessing his situation. //This isn't too bad. At least I went out with a bang. Or maybe more of a crash.// Patrick laughed at his joke. //See Kristen, I can laugh at myself sometimes. I'm not so insecure.//

=Day Four= Patrick wondered if the boys back at the office had heard anything yet. He was sure the crash would be covered in the news and Feingold Gehle was sure to hear about, Dante being their client and all. He wondered how'd they would act. Hell, he wondered if his body had even been identified. It was a nasty crash after all. Surely Kurt would have given him a call by now, a few times. And with no response, the whole building must have been dismayed. He took pleasure in that, in everybody worrying about him. It made him feel wanted, important. Patrick smiled.

He wondered how his mother would react. And his brother.

He wondered how the cute secretary would react. Maybe she would cry, run off to the bathroom with her head in her hands.

He wondered how Kristen would react. He hoped she would cry, too. Maybe in front of her new boyfriend. //That would be nice,// he thought.

=Day Five= Patrick quickly realized that he had a lot of free time to think. He was alright with that. He had enjoyed his solitude in life and spent countless minutes mulling over ideas in his head.

On this particular day, he was thinking back to his days in high school. More specifically about his old friend James. He had always looked up to James. James was a man, the rest of them were boys. James was popular. James had a nice car, a well paying job, good connections... And the girls always flocked to him. All the girls - the ones James liked, the ones James didn't, the ones Patrick liked...

//No,// Patrick thought, //this isn't what I should be thinking about. I was a boy then. Things were different.//

Instead, Patrick's thoughts floated to his secretary girl. To her face, her hair, those skirts she wore.

Patrick would never have her now, he realized. Patrick could never have heard her.

//James could have...//

=Day //Six//= //Kurt, Kristen, James...//

Their faces floated before him. Yes, they were his friends and his loved ones. But they were more. They were missed opportunities, futures gone wrong. Chances squandered and problems left to fester too long. They were fault and fear and sin. They were everything that was right in the world, and he had been everything that was wrong.

James had everything. Girls, money, looks. Patrick used to tell himself that they lost touch after high school, but that wasn't true. He realized now that Jame had //left//, to go on to bigger and better things, greater things then Patrick could ever accomplish.

Kurt had a steady job. A cushy job. And a wife who loved him and two beautiful little girls. He had a nice house, a house of his stature. Patrick had an apartment. Kurt played golf every Sunday and went to brunch. Patrick slept in and ate left overs.

And Kristen, she was gone. She had moved on, leaving him alone. And that was //right,// he realized. She could be happy now.

He had screwed up. It was too late to fix it now.

=Day Seven= He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted it all to stop. He prayed to just fade away and stop existing. He had never been a godly man, but what was this if it didn't prove some sort of higher power. Was this Heaven? Was this Sanctuary? No, no, it couldn't be. This was punishment. Punishment for all the things he didn't do. The chances he never took and the people he never helped. Patrick remembered a homeless man he would often pass on his way to work. Everyday he would sit against a fence and hold out an old tin can, begging for change. Patrick had never given him any. In three whole years, he couldn't spare a penny.

//I had a penny. I had a nickel, a dime, a hundred hundred dollars to spare. And I couldn't spare a five, or even a one. God damn me then! I deserve this!//

And he began to cry. He body shook and he sobbed.

=Day Eight= It was alright now. Patrick had been dead for several weeks and he had come to terms with his life. He wasted it, hoarded it, and that was OK.

He could have asked that secretary out for a coffee, but he didn't. That was OK.

He could have been more like James, had money and women, but he wasn't. That was OK.

He could have proposed to Kristen, had a wife and family like Kurt, but he didn't and he couldn't and Kristen shared a bed with a different man now and she talked to him about her problems and her fears and her insecurities and gave her heart to him and that was OK and Patrick could accept that. It was right.

Patrick was dead and his chances were gone. But that was OK. He was content.