“Why am I here?”
“Justin Steel punched you in the face.”
He knew that, but he’d hoped if it wasn’t hard enough to kill him, it would’ve been enough to get him to the city hospital.
“I’m Doctor Zander.”
“My vision’s blurry, I’ve got a pounding headache, I think I need to be in hospital.”
“You are in a hospital.”
Romeo didn’t comment. He needed to play this game carefully. Even though Zander worked in the prison hospital with the most despicable people on earth, he still had kind eyes, and he studied Romeo with them. He needed to keep it that way.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“We X-rayed your face. You’ve got a fractured cheekbone, lucky really, we all know what Justin’s capable of.”
“A fractured cheek bone?”
“And a mild concussion. According to Paul and Fred you were out cold.”
Romeo was going to have to do some work to upgrade his mild concussion, to a severe one, curtesy of the medical A-Z dictionary.
“Who?”
“Paul and Fred…”
“I don’t remember what happened. Where—where am I?”
“You’re on the hospital wing.”
“Wing?”
Zander frowned. “Yeah, of the prison.”
Romeo scrunched up his face, the pain made him wince, and Zander steadied him.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“It’s um … um, give me a minute and it’ll come back to me.”
“Can you remember what you did today?”
Romeo eased himself down on the pillow. He stared at the light in the ceiling until Zander moved closer and blocked it from view.
“Hey… Romeo?”
“Romeo.” He repeated.
“That’s your name.”
He gave Zander a wonderous look and laughed lightly. “Yeah, of course it is, Romeo.”
“Do you remember what you had for breakfast?”
“No.”
Zander unhooked a pen from his top pocket and shined it into Romeo’s eyes. He cursed and ducked away. Zander hummed, then backed off.
“I’ll keep a close eye on you.”
Romeo hadn’t over done it, Zander was concerned, but not overly so. He moved along to the next curtain and disappeared behind it. Romeo closed his eyes and tried to picture the medical A-Z he had in his cell. Grade three concussion. That’s what he needed to be taken to the city hospital, for them to look for damage on his brain.
Nausea, confusion, amnesia, trouble speaking, Romeo was going to present with every symptom until Zander had to do something.
First on the list, nausea.
Romeo picked up the bucket from the chair by the bed. He thought of Chad, sliced, bleeding, his throat slit, and rather than fight the build-up of bile, Romeo relished it until he heaved into the bucket, choking and spitting. The more he threw up, the worse his headache got, until he wasn’t faking, it was a cycle of headache and sickness.
Zander peeked looks at him, but took a long time to come back over. Romeo wheezed, and panted, then looked up at him.
“Where am I?”
“On the hospital wing.”
“Hospital wing,” he repeated, “I don’t understand.”
“Justin Steel punched you in the face.”
Romeo turned his head, then went to reach for it with his secured hand. It rattled, he stared down at it, then yanked on it some more.
Zander took the bucket off his lap, put it aside, then pinned Romeo to the bed by his shoulders.
“Calm down.”
“Why have you chained me up? You can’t—you can’t do this.”
“I need you to relax, Romeo.”
“Romeo?”
“Yeah, it’s your name.”
Romeo stopped fighting against Zander and sunk into the bed. “Yeah … of course it is.”
“Try and … try and get some rest.”
He slumped back, breathing heavily. Romeo closed his eyes, murmuring incoherently to himself. He could feel Zander watching him, studying him, and then he left to check on someone else.
Romeo repeated the performance again, and again. All day.
He complained of a headache, of bad vision, and in general, acted confused, but Zander didn’t do anything. He looked worried, made a note on his clipboard, then gave Romeo more painkillers, probably too many, but he wasn’t concerned about his patient accidently overdosing, he was more worried about making a mistake.
Zander helped him get to the bathroom, but he made sure he appeared unsteady on his feet, leaning heavily on Zander for his support.
In the morning, Romeo cracked an eye open, and it wasn’t just Zander watching, but the prison governor, stern-faced, military haircut, and Paul and Fred. He hoped—no, he prayed his performance had been enough.
“Where am I?”
The governor frowned, enough that his bushy black eyebrows met in the middle. He looked at Zander who hesitated, then approached the bed.
“You’re in the hospital wing.”
Romeo looked at the bed, the machine beeping beside him, Zander’s clothes.
“Hospital … why?”
“You were punched in the face.” Paul said. “You walked up to Justin’s cell on purpose.”
“On purpose?” the governor asked.
Paul nodded. “Yeah, I saw him do it, he wanted to be punched.”
The governor turned to Fred who shuffled on the spot. “Well?”
“I didn’t see, Paul was in front of me.”
Romeo carefully pressed his cheek. Still swollen, still tight, he hissed, tried to move his other hand to cup his face, but the cuff clunked, and he stared down at it.
“Why—why have you chained me to the bed?”
“Calm down.” Zander said, trying to keep him still.
He focused on the pain, the dreams about magpies, Chad being tortured, and his heart started to thump, the speed picked up until the machine beside him started beeping more urgently, flashing colors.
Paul and Fred both backed away, but the governor came closer, darting looks between the beeping machine and Romeo struggling against Zander. He tried to make it look authentic, muttered, frowned a lot, acted confused.
“You can’t seriously believe him?” Paul said.
The governor hummed. “He could be faking it.”
“Faking what? What the hell is going on?”
“I think we should take this seriously.” Zander said.
The governor bunched his lips together, then nodded. “Sedate him.”
“What?”
“You heard me, sedate him.”
“But if it’s a concussion—”
“Just do it.”
Zander released Romeo, then pressed the button by his head. More men in white suits appeared, and the thrashing and panicking were no longer fake. He didn’t want to be sedated. He didn’t want to fall asleep and see the killer breaking his magpie, but he had no choice.
They pinned him down and stabbed him in the arm with a sedative.
****
Romeo stood in the bathroom of a fancy hotel, breathing heavily, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked raving, like he was at the point of having a nervous breakdown, and others that needed to use the facilities quickly changed their mind when they saw him bracing himself by the sinks.
Nothing, his life felt empty of anything, where positives emotions were supposed to be, there was nothing. He’d got a new job. He’d bought a new apartment. A new car.
From the outside, he was flying high, but inside, he was barely hanging on. The desire in his head was so constant, so all-consuming, a never ending need to itch it, and knowing he couldn’t relieve it yet was pure torture.
Romeo twisted the taps, then slapped water on his face and the back of his neck. He looked at himself in the mirror, calmed his breathing, then left the bathroom.
He approached the table his mother and father wer
e sitting at on the balcony. They hadn’t noticed him, too wrapped up in each other, leaning closer, their hands linked on the table. They always hugged and held hands, but he’d hardly ever seen them kiss. It seemed to be enjoyable for them having their bodies pressed together, their fingers entwined. Romeo didn’t get it himself. If he let someone get that close, they’d see his ugliness, his murderous intent.
He forced his lips into a smile, then slipped into the chair opposite them.
“Sorry about that.”
His father laughed. “You needed to use the bathroom, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“True. Do you feel like an after-dinner coffee?”
His mother nodded. She liked coffee, always with a dash of milk and two sugars, just the way Romeo liked it, too.
“You know, when you asked us out for dinner, I thought you might have an announcement to make.”
Romeo frowned. “I did. I’m head of the company.”
“Okay, not an announcement as such, more … that you might introduce someone special to us.”
“Someone special?”
“Yeah … someone special…”
“What your mother is trying to say is we thought you were gonna introduce us to a romantic partner.”
Romeo looked at his mother, her big green eyes that seemed to get bigger the longer she looked at him. He’d played his parents for years, made them proud. All his triumphs were celebrated by them, too, but gradually the pride started to fade, and worry grew. He didn’t have romantic relationships, and they’d noticed. It was too dangerous, he might lose control, and he wasn’t ready to release the monster, not yet.
“So is there anyone?”
He saw hope in his mother’s eyes, and quickly looked away.
“No, no romantic partner.”
“I do worry about you.”
Romeo looked back at his mother. “It’s not me you should be worried about.”
“What?”
“I just mean, I’m happy as I am. The job, the apartment,” Romeo gestured to the restaurant, his clothes, then laughed. “The finer things.”
“But you don’t look happy.”
“I’m smiling, aren’t I?”
“But it’s not real, a mother can tell. I don’t want you to be lonely, Romeo, after we’re gone—”
He lowered his gaze. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.”
“I worry about you. My biggest wish is for you to find someone.” She squeezed his father’s hand. “I want you to experience love. To have someone there for you, for the good, the bad, the ugly.”
“Definitely the ugly.” Romeo’s father said.
“Not everyone needs love.”
His mother recoiled. “What does that mean?”
“Some people don’t want or need a romantic partner, but they still have fulfilling lives. They achieve their goals.”
“I understand that, but they have love, whether friends, or family, they still have love, company.”
Romeo’s shirt stuck to him. He was sweating, and despite sitting on the balcony, he still felt far too hot. “I’ve got you.”
“But when we’re no longer here. You don’t have brothers or sisters, or cousins, or aunties, and uncles, or friends.”
Romeo took a sip of water. “Don’t sugar coat it.”
“I’m serious, Romeo.”
He lowered his gaze. “I know you are. Maybe I’ve not found someone to spend my life with yet, there’s still plenty of time, but for now, I’m content with what I have.”
His mother detangled her hand, then reached across the table for Romeo’s. She held him and stared deep into his eyes. “Promise me when you do find it, you’ll never let it go.”
Her big green eyes connected with his, and he knew he should look away, break the eye contact before she saw past the façade, the emptiness, and saw the cage, and the monster lurking inside. His eyes stung, watered, and he didn’t look away, even when she frowned.
He hadn’t felt that lost since he’d been a child. The integral desire to experience what others did, and not being able to. Knowing he was messed up for not feeling what he should’ve, and for craving something dark.
“Promise me.”
Romeo’s eyes burned. His heart drummed in his chest. Why couldn’t he have been born with a normal brain? Why couldn’t he have been able to love his mother like she deserved? His whole existence was an ugliness only he could see.
His father cleared his throat, and Romeo blinked.
“I promise I won’t let it go.” Romeo said, then he took back his hand, and picked up the drinks menu, hiding his face. “So, coffees?”
“Sounds great.”
He peeked over the menu, and saw she was smiling at him. He didn’t deserve that smile, not when only minutes ago, he’d been in the bathroom, trying to reign himself in. Trying to ignore the growl in his head that told him to kill. It got louder each day, taking over more and more of the space in his head.
When Romeo looked down at the coffee on the table, it was orange in color and came with a bread roll.
“What the hell…”
He could smell soup, the sickly-sweet tomato soup they served at dinnertime in the prison. The memory of his parents dissolved into darkness. He didn’t open his eyes, he wanted it to look like he was still blissfully asleep, still under the influence of whatever they’d jabbed in his arm. Time had jumped, it had been morning when they’d first drugged him, and he suspected they’d drugged him again. He still wasn’t at the city hospital.
Chad had been with the killer for four days. For over 96 hours he could’ve been cutting him, hurting him. He listened as the beeping of the machine he was hooked to quickened.
Romeo was still no closer to getting out of the prison.
The concussion wasn’t getting him anywhere. He suspected if he kept complaining, they’d dose him with more sedatives. Romeo needed to alter his concussion into something immediate, something life-threateningly serious … a stroke.
He opened his eyes, groaned, and Zander rushed towards him, flashlight at the ready.
“You feeling any better, Romeo?”
“Where am I?”
“The hospital wing?”
“What—wing?”
“Yeah, in the prison.”
“Prison? Wha—what happened?”
Zander sighed. “You got punched in the face.”
Romeo touched his cheek, so swollen it covered his left eye. He hadn’t been lying about the messed-up vision, or the blaring headache. He took the pills Zander handed him, swallowing them dry.
“My head kills.”
“I imagine it does.”
“What happened?”
“You were punched by Justin.” Zander said in a bored tone. He’d been telling Romeo that rather a lot. He almost felt sorry for him.
“Why was I in the corridor?”
“Holly Stevenson was visiting you. She’s been driving Hal and Tara crazy in reception, turning up shrieking and shouting, demanding to know how you are.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. she wanted to know what happened to you, and why you didn’t show for your visit, so they told her you were here, and she’s pretty much chained herself to the chair in reception and said she won’t leave without seeing you. The governor’s stressed out of his mind.”
“Why?”
“She’s brought down a load of reporters from the Canster Times. They’re outside the prison harassing everyone, waiting for news on your condition. She’s like a woman possessed.”
No, obsessed, Romeo thought to himself.
He scrunched his brow. “Why—why am I here again?”
Zander sighed. “You walked too close to a cell.”
“A cell…”
“Yeah.” Zander looked down at his clipboard, then back up at Romeo. “You need to rest.”
Romeo nodded, sinking back into the pillow.
“Okay,” he breathed.
Zander lingered by h
is bed, then left. Romeo needed to bide his time, if he went for it too fast, Zander would get suspicious. He could tell Zander was worried, could see it, he saw beyond his criminal record, and looked at him as a patient.
A patient he was neglecting by not getting the correct help.
****
Romeo spotted the governor and Paul heading towards Zander, no doubt after an update on his condition. Romeo pretended he hadn’t noticed and stared at nothing until they all approached the bed.
“You stopped faking it yet?” Paul asked.
“What?”
“You aren’t fooling me.”
“My arm.” Romeo murmured.
Zander rushed towards him. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“I can’t lift it.”
Paul huffed. “It’s cuffed to the bed.”
Romeo shook his head. “No, not that one I can—I can feel that one.”
Zander touched his right hand. “Feel that…”
Romeo looked down at it. “No, I don’t know. I just—I can’t…”
“It’s okay, just relax.”
Zander turned to the governor pinching his lips, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“There could be something seriously wrong…”
“Like what?”
“A bleed on the brain … a clot. A stroke.”
“Stroke.” Paul laughed. “Your face is supposed to drop.”
“His face is so swollen I don’t think we’d tell if it had.”
“A stroke?” The governor said. “Can you not deal with it here?”
“I don’t have the equipment. We have no MRI scanner on the hospital wing.”
“You really think he needs an MRI?”
Zander hugged his clipboard to his chest. “He’s presenting with stroke like symptoms…”
“Exactly,” Paul said. “Stroke-like, he’s faking it.”
“He got punched in the face by Justin. We all know his fists are lethal, his coach died from a bleed on the brain. That’s the reason he’s in here.” Zander said.
Paul laughed. “And the reason Romeo’s in here is because he’s a murdering psycho.”
Romeo slurred something in Zander’s direction. His eyes went comically wide, and Romeo had to keep his cool not to laugh.
“What did you say?”
Romeo tried again, slowing down his words, talking as carefully as he could without moving his tongue. “My head feels strange.”
Two for Joy Page 14
