by Adams, Renee
Making my way to the bathroom that sits off to the side of my room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Short brown hair and grass green eyes stare back at me. I have lost weight and muscle mass from being in this shitbox, but I still have some bulk to me. Tattoos line my arms, chest, and back. Different quotes and pictures spread out in vivid colors and details. Mercy is tattooed across my knuckles because if I have to use my fists you will be begging me for mercy. Troublemaker used to be my nickname because I fought all through high school. Stupid is what it should say because now, I regret it all.
I should have went to college and made something of myself, that way I wouldn’t be in this situation. But hell let’s be honest, I probably would have been in jail or dead. Beaten to death by some pissed off husband because I banged his wife in some dingy bar. Or in prison for beating some pissed off husband for banging his wife, either way, it wouldn’t have been good. The military saved me, I guess. Showed me some discipline that I was lacking in my younger years. Gave me an opportunity, and I took it and ran with it. Ran all the way to a war that cost some the ultimate sacrifice.
A knock at my door startles me, but I tell whoever to just leave me the fuck alone. This place needs to leave me the hell alone and let me be. I can’t stand this place, I’m just ready to get the fuck out of here. I need a piece of pussy, a beer, and probably something stronger than that. They don’t let us have alcohol in this place, and I don’t know any bitches to give me the pussy. None of these nurses are worth hitting on except that one Samantha, but she is too fucking perky for my tastes. Fake as the tits on her chest.
Taking off my pants and skivvies I can’t help but look down and see the empty space where my leg was. I have my thigh and knee but my calf and foot is gone, rotting somewhere I’m sure. Reaching over, I cut on the shower, and the sound of the water groans through the pipes before it finally sprays out in a sad and pathetic flow. This place is so old and the water pressure sucks balls. Getting into my shower chair just pisses me off even more, because shit, I am a twenty-seven-year-old man who shouldn’t be having to sit his ass down to take a shower. Hell, I used to fuck women standing up in the shower. None of that now I guess. The therapists say that eventually I will have the balance to shower myself without sitting down. I can’t wait for that fucking day, seems like it will never get here.
As the bathroom heats up, I get situated on my shower chair and let the water and heat cascade over me hoping that it might take the anger away. Being angry though seems to be all that I have left that is mine. No job, no house, no woman, and no leg. All the no’s are lined right up for me to sit and stew over. But I have to shake this funk, I can’t let this ruin me. It’s so easy to fall down the rabbit hole of the no’s when really I need to pull myself out of it, because what happens when I don’t? I’m just going to become some homeless guy on the side of the road and dying with nothing but full of hate and anger. I can’t let myself go out that way.
Ugh, another night of no sleep. The nightmares are plaguing me, causing me to cry out, to relive every tortured memory. My therapist says it’s because I haven’t dealt with the emotions that the situation made me feel. That and some shit about not being able to say the R word. Why would I want to say that word? That word is so vulgar, so wrong that just thinking it makes my body feel like poison is coursing through my veins. It’s a word nobody should even know, let alone know how to say.
The drive to work reflects my mood, gray skies, and raining. Walking up the steps, I run into Allyn. Oh boy, I can’t take him today, but I find myself slowing down to talk to the old man, hoping that he has a joke for me or something.
“Mornin’ Allyn.”
“Good morning, Cori, did I ever tell you that my buddies in the service had a nickname for me?” He has a lopsided mischievous smile on his face, so I know this ought to be good.
“Nope, you sure didn’t, but I bet you are going to now.” He told me, but Allyn doesn’t seem like the type to care about whether I’ve heard it or not. It’s ok, he seems to be a nice guy.
“You are damn right I am, they used to call me the Flounder Pounder! Because by the time I was done giving it to a girl she just laid there like a flounder!” He cackles which triggers him to start coughing. He told me yesterday, but he didn’t tell me any details.
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing, full on belly laughing. I mean this guy is a trip! Who comes up with shit like that? If he was ever married, his wife must have been a saint.
“Ok, FP, you need to get inside, you’re going to catch a cold out here and won’t be able to do no pounding.” I still have a smile on my face as I walk inside. Maybe today won’t be as bad as I thought.
Four hours later I’m covered in sweat, and I’m sure that I smell like a men’s locker room, but one of Allyn’s buddy’s went down with no pulse right in his chair in the hallway. Getting a grown man onto the floor and performing CPR for 20 minutes is taxing on a person. Every muscle in my body is sore and I smell so rank, but I was able to get his pulse back before the EMTs arrive. I have no idea where Sam went to, she seems to like to leave the floor when I clock in.
A feeling of euphoria passes over me. The high that you get when your adrenaline kicks in and you do what has to be done. I haven’t done that in a long flipping time. I can only imagine that this is what addicts feel when they are high. The adrenaline coursing through my veins makes me feel as if I’m ten feet tall and bulletproof. Every time I bring someone back from the brink of death is an almost out of body experience. Makes me feel like I have thumbed my nose at the higher ups with a ‘you’re not taking this guy today’ kind of feeling.
After the guy is loaded on the stretcher and taken out to the ambulance, I exhale a pent up breath and take in my surroundings. People are milling about the chaos, but it’s someone standing way in the back that catches my eye. Looking down the hallway I see a man on crutches standing by the door I was knocking on yesterday. For some reason, I can’t look away from him even though he has a look of disgust on his face, a look of some unknown hatred. I am utterly mesmerized, drawn into the sight of a man who seems to hate what he sees. This must be Knight. Not until he goes back to his room and slams the door does the spell break. A feeling of sadness and emptiness washes over my skin from an unknown stranger walking away. Like I am missing something that once was and never will be again. I don’t get it, how can I feel like that over someone I’ve never met or even someone who obviously hates me so much.
The rest of the day goes off without another glimpse of the man that Samantha confirmed and said was named Knight. I have no idea if that is a good thing or a bad thing since I have only glimpsed his face from afar, I feel the need to see him up close. Since he walked away, the great feeling of saving someone’s life has become an afterthought. The scars on my face, the scars on my heart and on my body have been temporarily forgotten. In place of the save and scars is a feeling of loneliness. I don’t know why, though. It has taken four months to feel lonely, when before all this happened I would just call Olivia up and we would hang out and watch movies, so I was never alone.
Is it because what used to be, before the riot and scars, was a fun girl who could get a man wrapped around her with one smile? The woman who had lots of friends and plans every night of the week. The woman who could make a person feel good just by her sunny disposition. I feel like two people; like that sunny girl has been put in a box way down deep in me and she’s just waiting to burst out again. Then the way I am now, closed off, shut in, and wounded. It’s two people fighting each other in a constant battle of who is going to be Cori today. The one who dwells on the past seems to be the winner all the time.
Today has been for lack of a better word, different. One of the old timers went down and some nurse was on the floor trying to save his life. The commotion caused the curiosity in me to actually open my door. Not a big deal around here with all the old people, but for the first time since being in this crap shoot I wanted to venture out of
my room to see the nurse who saved his life. She was a siren call that pulled me in. Of course I wouldn’t get too close, but I had to see what all the commotion was about and man am I glad I did.
I have never seen her before so she must be new. Or not, it’s not like I’m the friendliest person in this place. But there was something about her that made it so I couldn’t look away from her. She didn’t know the crowd of patients that she drew in as she worked tirelessly on the old man. She had a presence about her, an aura that drew me in. I didn’t leave my doorway, but I could feel this pull to be near her. Plus her ass in those tight scrubs didn’t hurt much either. So much so that I found myself adjusting myself in my shorts with the way her ass jiggled. My cock was straining to be released from the confines of the fabric. First time my dick has gotten hard since I lost my leg. Information I will think about later, I guess.
But I forced myself to go back inside my room. I forced myself to leave her light. Shutting the door was incredibly hard, because once I did, the feelings returned. I hate the feelings, I hate myself, and I hate the man that I have become. I’ve thought about suicide, like really sat and thought about it, but it’s just not something I can do to myself. I may not have friends or family, and I know that even though I hate myself now, it’s only temporary. Suicide is a forever consequence that I’m not ready to live with.
I need to get out of this headspace because I know it’s not good for me. It’s not “conducive” to healing as one of these quacks would say. But what the fuck do they know? A knock at my door has me debating whether to ignore or to answer it. They don’t push me too much around here to be involved.
“What the fuck do you people want?” I yell out, not bothering to go to the damn door. I don’t want to be bothered.
“Look, housekeeping needs to come clean out your room, so get up and get out!” a woman’s voice I don’t recognize yells back at me. Who the fuck does she think she is?
“You people never leave me the fuck alone! I just want to sit here, my room isn’t dirty, so get the fuck away from my door!” I yell back at her because now my blood is starting to do a slow burn. I’m getting angrier and angrier in this place. In this room. My own personal prison, my own personal hell.
Just when I think I’m being left alone, in barges this nurse, the one from before that made my dick hard. She looks like an angel with the light from the hallway filtering in around her in my dark room. I have to shield my eyes because it’s so bright. Her hair is up in a ponytail but I can see that it’s with blonde on top and black underneath. The blonde has grown out a bit showing off her brown roots, but it’s not trashy. I can’t see her face very well because the light is behind her. Her body is incredible. I mean on a scale of one to ten hers is a twenty. Tits that would be more than a handful, a thick waist which tells me she has some succulent meat on her bones. I saw her ass from a distance when she was doing CPR so I know that her ass is on point.
She flips on the light, and instantly my dick strains to get out. It knows what it wants and it wants this beauty in front of me. Before I can even look at her face, I’m having to adjust my dick in my shorts. But when I look up, I’m met with the most gorgeous set of brown eyes I have ever seen. Like melted milk chocolate but with flecks of gold glitter in them. I also notice something else. She has an X carved into her face and my vision goes red. I want to rip whoever did this to her limb from limb. Never in my life have I ever felt that kind of strong emotion towards someone. I have to know who the fuck did this to her and I have to hurt them with my bare hands.
“Get your ass up, you can’t sit here all day being mean to people. Especially when they didn’t do shit to deserve it! It’s not healthy, and you will never be able to leave this place if you don’t!” Her voice. God, that voice could cure any heartache that ails you.
I just grunt at her because I’m at a serious loss for words. I feel like a caveman grunting at the pretty lady. But her beauty makes me forget what I was going to say. The scar makes me murderous, so it is best I don’t say anything.
She stomps across the room and I get to see her perfect ass up close. Plenty to grab on to, plenty to give a smack when I’m balls deep inside her from behind. She tips up on her toes as she grabs the curtains and yanks them open. My mouth goes dry when her scrub top rides up a little showing off two back dimples.
“So, you gonna get your ass up and join us outside of your cave?” Her hands are on her hips as if she is disappointed like a mom would scold her child. The motion draws my attention to her hips, and I want nothing more than to grab a hold of her and not let go.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Sweetheart? I’m nobody’s sweetheart, besides what’s it matter what my name is? As soon as housekeeping is done, you will be right back in here doing whatever it is you do,” she challenges back at me, with a smirk on her pretty lips.
“Just want to know, never seen you here before.” I’m trying to keep her talking because that voice is like warm honey just dripping in sweetness.
“You would if you left your room. But seeing how you don’t, I’m Cori, I’m new around here. So since you’re asking questions I will, too. Why don’t you come out your room?”
I’m thrown off guard by her boldness. I can’t even think of a response. She probably thinks that I’m dumb, which hey, I’m a guy and we all are in our own ways. But words have never escaped me before. I probably look like a fish out of water to her with my mouth gaping open.
“Ummm, I just don’t fucking like people. It’s not a crime.” There, maybe that will throw her off guard.
“Well, that’s a shame, because there are some pretty cool old timers here. Have you met Allyn?”
Yeah, I have met the pain in the ass old man. All he wants to do is talk about his dead wife and tell me stupid jokes. I dunno how long the old man has been here, but he seems to know everybody.
“Yeah, I’ve met him. Look, I’m not a talkative person, and I don’t have the best attitude, so I don’t leave my room. None of them fucking matter to me, none of them are going to bring my leg back or my friends back. Nobody can add anything to this shit life. So I stay in here because it is better than being in the circus of freaks out there.”
She looks wounded from my statement. I don’t know why, but if I had my guess it would be because of those scars on her face. I wish, no I need to know what happened to give her those markings. She catches me staring and ducks her head.
“Well, you need to leave your room so they can clean. If you need something, you can find me in the circus, with the freaks.” With that, she just turns on her heel and walks off. I feel like such an asshole. I should never have stared, but it wasn’t necessarily the markings I was looking at. It was just the beauty of her within that shines through.
Circus of freaks? Really? I want to punch him so bad right now. To show him that I am not in a circus of freaks, I am the fucking ringleader! What an asshole! I have never in my life met someone who is so wounded and pushes people away as hard as him. Shame really, he is gorgeous, and the first thing I noticed on him wasn’t his missing leg, but his eyes. His eyes are haunting, and of the million bad things they have seen, those secrets he will keep.
But he’s an asshole. The arrogance that he exudes is enough to make me hate him, instantly. I don’t normally walk right into patient’s rooms that refuse me, but I won’t let somebody be shitty to me when I don’t deserve it. Barging in that room all I could feel is the negative energy of disdain and hatred. It’s like a black cloud hangs over his head, and even though his eyes are full of secrets the bags underneath show a lack of sleep. He actually has eyes that look like mine, exhausted and desperate.
He is exactly the kind of guy that “Old Cori” would have gone for. Tall, sexy as sin, tatted with an attitude to match. He ought to have a big flashing red sign above his head screaming “bad boy here” with an arrow pointed at him. The new Cori, however, doesn’t care about finding a man. The thought repulses me. Ke
ep telling yourself that Cor, you would so jump at the chance to see him again. My mind needs to shut its trap, even though it is speaking the truth. I would like to see him again, but his attitude just plain stinks.
After leaving his room, I make my way to all of the other rooms on this side of the hall and get those residents out because housekeeping really is coming in. It just wasn’t a ploy to see what was behind the forbidden door. Allyn and his group are in the day room worried over their friend. I told him I would call the hospital in an hour or so to make sure his friend is ok.
No other residents put up a fight about leaving their rooms, hell most don’t stay in them during the day. They seem to prefer to be outside or with the other residents. Thankfully, this isn’t a prison, so everyone is free to go as they choose. They know what time their appointments are for therapy and exams, so they know when they need to get back. According to Samantha, the ones that have motorized wheelchairs often take them to the convenience store for slushies and candy, some even fish from the grass of the parking lot.
“Hey, Cori, how’s your first couple of days going?” I startle and drop my never ending stack of paperwork. I think that is Sam’s greatest joy in life is to drop paperwork with others. I glance up and see Martin the security guard.
“Oh, um, hey Martin. It’s going good. Everyone seems pretty decent.”
“Good. You let me know if you see any trouble. Also, Cori, don’t be a stranger, I would like to think we are all a family here, so come say hi every once in a while. Take it easy on an old man so he doesn’t have to walk all the way here.” He doesn’t say it in a creepy way, just in a fatherly way, a way to remind you that you can come to him if need be. It’s a warm feeling to know someone is on your side, whether you take them up on it or not. I don’t have very many people in my corner anymore, so to have someone who doesn’t even know me want to be a person on my side is incredible. I guess that since I started working at the prison, my trust level has diminished. When you are constantly watching over your shoulder and someone is hammering into you that you cannot trust anyone, you actually start to not trust anyone. Personal and professional. Being attacked, beaten, raped, and left to die makes that little bit you did have nonexistent.
