Crooked Halos

The nurse blinks and releases my wrist, making a note on her clipboard.

“You’re doing very well, William. I will have to inform the doctor about your progress.”

She leaves.

I ignore the food in the plastic tray even though I feel faint with hunger and my stomach groans despite the fact that the pile of food looks scarily like vomit.

I turn my back on it.

Sleep.

The door clicks but I ignore it, the nurses are always checking up on me.

There’s Blue-Eyes with the dope, and Dumpy with the vomit-on-a-plate, and Red-Nose who drills me with educated questions every couple of days and Old-Blinky who only appears if I pass out.

It could be any one of them.

The door creaks oven and I frown. This is new. Usually they just open the hatch to see if I’ve eaten the food that Dumpy brings like clockwork at breakfast time, lunchtime and dinner.

There’s a hand on my shoulder and I start, the room spinning for a moment until I regain hold of my consciousness.

I will not sleep.

“William, Ms Denrol tells me you’re improving at a rapid pace, I was wondering if you would come to my office for a moment.”

So this must be the doctor.

He’s young, dark haired and pretty green eyes that dance, much like the smile that plays gently at the corners of his lips.

I nod and stand up quickly, steadying myself against the wall and follow him out.

Everything’s so different.

It’s all white, but it’s not like my room, my eyes flicker everywhere, taking in everything until the doctor stops at a door, unlocks it and then beckons me in.

I follow and hold back gasps.

This is not white, the walls are a pale, hospital green, there are books on his bookshelves and photos of a pretty woman and a little boy with a big nose on his desk.

He gestures for me to sit in the chair next to his desk, picks up a clipboard and settles himself behind his desk.

Very professional.

“Now, William, how are you feeling?”

I consider this for a moment.

“Numb.”

He nods and jots something down.

“Do you miss any of your friends?”

“Shannon.”

I answer without thinking. He nods again.

“Are you taking about Shannon Harper from room 428, or Shannon Leto from room 613.”

“Leto. Shannon Leto.”

“Uh-huh…” he blinks twice “Does Shannon have a brother, William?”

I nod. “Yes, Jared, he sleeps in the bunk under mine. Shannon sleeps above Patrick in the bunk next to us.”

“Okay. Do you miss anyone else?”

I blink. “I miss my mom.”

He frowns. “It says here in your files that you were four years old when you were separated from your parents. You didn’t even know your mother.”

“I just…” I consider how best to approach this if I want to go “I dreamt about her last night and I wondered how she was.”

He leafs through some papers on his desk and sighs.

“You mother died two years after you were taken, William.”

I blink and the room spins momentarily.

Sleep.

“She died in a traffic collision, it was a quick and painless death. I’m sorry.”

I nod. Unbelieving.

How could she be dead?

The woman in my dream was so alive, so full of energy and spark. She couldn’t be dead.

“There are tissues on the desk if you need to cry, William.”

I nod, but I don’t feel the need to cry at all.

She can’t be dead, she was so full of life, she couldn’t die. She couldn’t.

“Do you need to cry?”

Slowly, I shake my head.

He scribbles something on his notepad.

“Ms Denrol was right, you are making extraordinary progress William.”

I blink.

“Now, after consulting the wardens, we have decided that it would be better for you if you were returned to your dorm.”

I nod.

“You will remain in isolation until 10am tomorrow morning, at which point Ms Denrol will give you one last check over to make sure you’re alright and then you will be free to leave.”

I nod again.

“Mrs Williams will escort you back to your room.”

Right on cue there’s a knock on the door and Old-Blinky steps into the room, blinking small muddy-puddle-coloured eyes at me and I feel a sudden rush of pity for her husband as she walks me back to the tiny white room with the vomit-on-a-plate still steaming away happily in there.

The lock clicks once and I’m alone again.

Alone.

I try to close my eyes.

Sleep.

But every time I see her now, I can just see her broken body, slumped across the steering wheel of a car. So lifeless, so still, so pale, so cold… so dead.

I want to cry, I want to scream, to shout, but nothing’s coming. My eyes stay dry and my mouth stays closed.

I don’t sleep that night, I count the cracks in the ceiling, the chips in the paintwork, the number of hairs floating in the ‘soup’ Dumpy provides me with for dinner. I count the number of stains on her apron, or I try to, but there are too many and she’s gone too quickly.

When Blue-Eyes comes in with her dope she checks my pulse, my reflexes, looks at the whites of my eyes, pinches my waist appraisingly and peers rudely down my throat.

“You’re in fine condition, William. A little on the skinny side, but that’s easily sorted.” She makes a note on her clipboard while I stand under the consistent glare of the electric light until she finally hands me a pile of clothes, tells me to get changed and leaves the room.

The denim and cotton feel strange against my skin, but I button the neat jeans-and-shirt combination anyway and when she comes back in I’ve even folded the gown neatly and set it in the centre of the room.

The corridors she leads me down seem endless and there are so many passwords for so many doors, my head turns in every direction, every step of my own matching up two or three of her own easily.

After a while the corridors become more familiar and the unpolished concrete blocks of the prison become apparent and finally she leaves me to wind my own way back to my dorm.

The second I’ve pushed the door open Shannon flings himself upon me, half-crying into my neck about how much he missed me and when his lips meet mine I freeze, eyes flicking open but no one else seems to notice or care.

My mind automatically clocks the faces until it notices one that is missing.

“Where’s Gabe?” I manage to choke out and suddenly everyone looks very uncomfortable.

“Gabe…” Ryan starts, but doesn’t seem to be able to say it.

“He overdosed on his medication three days ago.” Jared sighs and my eyes zero in on the red stains on the sleeves of his white shirt.

I can’t even get an ‘oh’ out. It was bound to happen sometime. The doctors gave him so many pills to take in order to suppress the fact that he was bouncing off the walls half the time, he was bound to slip up at some point.

Frankie nuzzles at Gerards ear and whispers something but Gerard seems disinterested, brooding, staring at the wall as if her was wondering whether or not he could punch through it.

“Mikey was the latest one to die. I can’t say I’m surprised, he pissed so many people off someone was bound to get him at some point.” Shannon whispers in my ear, quiet enough so no one else hears. “Sick fucker hung his body upside down in the girls showers though.”

He didn’t need to say nay more, I could imagine the scene only too well in my head. I’m not too surprised about Mikey either. Kid was a squealer. And everyone hates the squealer kids.

Bell rings and we hear the distant rumble as kids charge down to dinner.

My stomach rumbles and I grin lopsidedly, hoping that the food will be better than the vomit-on-a-plate Dumpy served me in isolation. Then again, for the food to be better than the vomit-mountain wouldn’t be hard. Horse shit would be preferable to Dumpy’s cooking.

My stomach growls again and Shannon grins at me.

“Hungry much? Didn’t they feed you in solitary?”

I shrug, forcing a grin.

“Nothing that was edible.”

He takes my hand, tugging on it gently. “Well let’s go and get you some real food then.”

Gerard blinks and continues staring at the wall.