Final Destination: Chapter 4 Edited

   Previously on Final Destination: Wyatt was attacked by a horse like dog who tells him, "Give us what we want, and we will go away."  Something you don't want to be told by a dog. When he gets home, we find out Louise is Stay At Home Prostitute. His wife Louise lies to Wyatt and tells him she wasn't spending time with another man. Jealousy is tensing up and Wyatt tells Louise Marie is dead, and Louise might be relieved... or worried it might interfere with her and the man she's spending time with.

He gulps, mentally bargaining with himself that he won't cry. A tear begins falling, till a stream pours down his face. His palms mops over his runaway tears as Louise's bored eyes shifts in a different direction and sighs in disgust. Marie Laveau was not just a French woman in Connecticut, not just Wyatt's partner, but a feeling in his heart that yearned for her so much that he'd let her die.

He did not sleep at all, he rocked back and forth all night while Louise slept. His waist, calf, arms and heart hurt. Louise fought over the blanket with Wyatt at times. When Wyatt sits up, he swings his legs off the bed and forks over his shoulder. While Louise struggles to pull her gown over her slip and panties, she eyes him over her shoulder as well looking at him. She says to him, “you cried all night.”

“I know. I had a hard time sleeping,” he replies. Wyatt walks over to his closet and finds a long brown jacket and white suite and tie. He crouches over down to Louise's lips for their customary goodbye kiss and leaves out the door.

Wyatt constantly tells himself he needs a doctor while relieving all his pain on one leg. The rush of blood rapidly flows through and out the calf, with a distinctive smell of rotten flesh. “Bloody hell!” Wyatt cusses as he's bent looking at the calf bleeding through his pants. Wyatt scuffs off his shoe then his sock. Puss oozes from the calf and the rotten flesh of carn reeks like spoiled meat. Wyatt ties the sock tightly around his calf beneath his pants. The burning sensation drives Wyatt so insane, he grits his teeth together. Grinding them as they sound like sandpapers being rubbed together.

He walks into work, slamming the door behind him. He lines behind the next man in front and reaches for a newspaper on the counter. Wyatt is a banker on floor two, which they are in charge of putting money in the volts. Police guards stand in a poise position, arms out stretch to check the business men pockets. Wyatt sighs with a ruff tone as an officers hands repeatedly runs up his legs to his crouch to be search. Wyatt couldn't understand why his boss would hire so many plump officers.

If he wanted to see dogs eat all day and lay around he could have gone to the kennel and let the mutts give him a cavity search. The officer stuffs another muffin in his mouth and stutter, “G-go o-on in.” The officer gulps another one down, ravenously as if biting into the carcass of a dead gazelle. It sickens Wyatt, he cups his hand over his mouth holding down what ever he has left in his stomach. Wyatt rushes pass the officers avoiding the disgusting mouths choke down three course meals in the morning as if they're dinners. The office area is like a maze for him, he's always turning where a desk set lied.

Sandy brown walls creating an isolation behind the desk and computers. Some people there, were... He didn't know how to describe some of these people, the janitor in the back; reaching for the mop and bucket. He is the one in the gray boiler suit, Wyatt heard this was his fourth job as a janitor, paying off his taxes again from another gambling addiction. Lucy Wool, who's always hiding in the stales with a tooth brush and shades over her eyes. She blames it on the late night working, but they all know Lucy has needles stashed somewhere in her purse. It is quite hard for Wyatt to play it off, the aching in his leg while he walks pass his co-workers.

He takes the stairs, walking in circles as it gets higher into the next floor. Wyatt steps into his office after stepping off the whining steps. He clumps the folded Newspaper onto his desk and empties his pockets. Three gold coins and two silver coins, makes a high pitch ringing on his desk as it swirls in circles over the murky brown base of the table. He plops a metallic cone onto his desk as well; shaped like a spinning top but with a clock attached. It is a spinning clock, he carries everywhere he went. He begins to fiddle with the spinning clock in his hand, starting it up, by sitting it upright on a flat surface then spinning it like a 'top.'

A disturbing grunt comes from the other side of the room, and Wyatt's eyes looks up to see a man with a burning eye centering his forehead and a trusty side kick for a canine. The man has a beady of eye and rubicund of visage. Bold head and white silk clothing, long sleeves and long silk pants laying over his bare feet. He is a big man; thick like a walking bull; if a bull could have walked. Clean, cut shave face. The man menace a glare to this terrifying situation and smirks to Wyatt's taunting experience. Wyatt's organs feel lifted, almost ready to drop; he'd sworn he could have thrown up, but what was there left to throw up? He hadn't eaten breakfast, he was too broken of his lost of Marie and his cheating wife Louise he could barely get the the eggs and buttered toast down.

Clamping his arms around his waist, he steady breaths out his mouth. Wyatt finds himself walking to the door and shutting it behind, shoving the desk's chair beneath the door knob.

“So, that was your dog?” He turns back to them and referrers the canine beside the man to the one he saw last night. Wyatt's still holding his stomach. The man, across from Wyatt, and the dog from last night has the same eye over their forehead. It was a bit creepy and nauseating for him to look at.