Freefall
oo2.
The uniforms wait anxiously outside the hospital room, awaiting the ok from the head nurse. The door spreads open and she walks out silently, nodding to the chief. Upon their entry, the scene seems quite normal. There is a freshly made bed sitting against the wall, a television hanging in the corner, and the flickering fluorescent lights that are so often associated with hospitals. The boy is standing by the window: a window that only a key unlocks, to avoid any other incidents.
Weeks have played out since that cold November evening. He had made headlines, just as anticipated. He had also managed to jump sixteen stories to certain doom… and live to watch the glimmering lights spin their magical tales yet again.
The chief clears his throat, just loud enough to catch the boy’s attention. His shoulders perk up at the sound of visitors, and he spins to greet them.
“Hello!” he sings joyfully. “Are you here to play a game?”
The chief stands at attention, addressing the boy coldly. “No. No games.”
The boy’s face falls in disappointment, and he lowers his gaze to his bare feet. “Did you know that they took my shoes?” he asks out of nowhere.
“Uh… no, I’m afraid I did not. I’m sure they’ll be returned shortly,” the chief answers mechanically. “We need to talk.”
This peaks the boy’s interest. His head rises up, wide eyes locking with those across the room. “Oh?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the right.
The chief is unsure of how to react to such a strange subject. The boy is indeed just as they said he would be. “I-well, that is they…” He fumbles with his words, none of them fitting together quite the way he wants them to. The pale eyes staring him down are causing him mental unrest, rendering him incapable of speaking.
“I think I’m sick,” the boy states frankly, pointing to the door behind the chief. “Hospitals are for sick people, right? So then, I must be sick.”
The chief’s next breath is stuck in his constricted throat. Just what had happened to this seventeen year old? “Yes, Ryan. I suppose you could say that you’re sick…” His voice trails off in a mix of sympathy and disgust- a deadly combination.
Ryan sighs knowingly and turns back to the window. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice is so peacefully naïve; coming from the mind of a child. There is silence then, aside from the steady breathing of the room’s occupants. “Well,” Ryan murmurs, turning and striding toward the open door, “I suppose it’s time to go, huh?”
“Go?” the chief asks clumsily.
“We’re going for a ride, aren’t we?” Ryan flashes the chief a toothy grin before exiting the room. Yes, he was, indeed, very sick.
Weeks have played out since that cold November evening. He had made headlines, just as anticipated. He had also managed to jump sixteen stories to certain doom… and live to watch the glimmering lights spin their magical tales yet again.
The chief clears his throat, just loud enough to catch the boy’s attention. His shoulders perk up at the sound of visitors, and he spins to greet them.
“Hello!” he sings joyfully. “Are you here to play a game?”
The chief stands at attention, addressing the boy coldly. “No. No games.”
The boy’s face falls in disappointment, and he lowers his gaze to his bare feet. “Did you know that they took my shoes?” he asks out of nowhere.
“Uh… no, I’m afraid I did not. I’m sure they’ll be returned shortly,” the chief answers mechanically. “We need to talk.”
This peaks the boy’s interest. His head rises up, wide eyes locking with those across the room. “Oh?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the right.
The chief is unsure of how to react to such a strange subject. The boy is indeed just as they said he would be. “I-well, that is they…” He fumbles with his words, none of them fitting together quite the way he wants them to. The pale eyes staring him down are causing him mental unrest, rendering him incapable of speaking.
“I think I’m sick,” the boy states frankly, pointing to the door behind the chief. “Hospitals are for sick people, right? So then, I must be sick.”
The chief’s next breath is stuck in his constricted throat. Just what had happened to this seventeen year old? “Yes, Ryan. I suppose you could say that you’re sick…” His voice trails off in a mix of sympathy and disgust- a deadly combination.
Ryan sighs knowingly and turns back to the window. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice is so peacefully naïve; coming from the mind of a child. There is silence then, aside from the steady breathing of the room’s occupants. “Well,” Ryan murmurs, turning and striding toward the open door, “I suppose it’s time to go, huh?”
“Go?” the chief asks clumsily.
“We’re going for a ride, aren’t we?” Ryan flashes the chief a toothy grin before exiting the room. Yes, he was, indeed, very sick.