Chapter twenty-six:

 

 

I open my eyes, feeling pressure on my body.

I’m restrained. Held down by some force greater than my own. I try to escape, but the chains are heavy. Strong. Metal digs into my wrists. Around my waist. Durable straps restrain my legs. Snapping at my ankles. I try to talk but a mask covers my mouth.

I stare up through the haze at the face that peers down at me.

A man is talking, but no words come out. I wonder if he knows.

His lips are opening and closing, his hands moving animatedly.

This way and then that.

Up and then down.

Pointing. Poking. Prodding.

P…P…P…

I gulp, feeling weak and tired. Sick and aching.

But there’s not any pain now. And that’s good.

I try to smile, but then my whole body bumps, and I slip and almost fall off whatever I’m on. The man looking down at me touches the side of my body, keeping me still. He reaches up high and I see an IV line. A clear bag of fluid with a tube attached. Another bag of red blood (vomit) with another tube.

All the tubes lead to me.

That seems fitting—right, even.

All roads lead to me.

That’s where they began. Sort of.

That’s where the nightmare started so many years ago. Sort of.

Carrie’s the one to blame, really. But I won’t blame her, because we’re a team. That’s what she said, wasn’t it?

‘I’ll always protect you.’ That’s what I said, didn’t I?

But could I really do that?

Could I really?

Really, really?

It still seems strange. But things are what they are until they’re not. And then what are they? What could they possibly be?

A mix of truth and lies. Of promises broken and promises kept. Of things that are wrong and things that are right. Of love and loss, and hate and passion, and and and…

“It’s okay. Just calm down. We’re here now,” the man says. A high-pitched beeping is nestling itself inside my brain.

Great, I think. But where is here?

The doors open and sunlight blasts my skin. It’s warm and comforting. And then the world is moving. I’m being pulled and pushed. Doors are opening and closing. The world makes sense, and yet it doesn’t.

I see the red cross.

And thank fuck, I think. A hospital. I sigh.

I’m okay. Everything will be okay.

I’m feeling better already, even as I’m wheeled through the hospital. I’ll get up and go back to Carrie as soon as they leave me alone. As soon as we pass the people sobbing and moaning. People bleeding and holding onto one another for support. Glaring. Caring. Suspicious. Every face a new emotion. Every emotion has its reason.

The lights above are blinding and bright. They make my eyes hurt, so I close them. Just for a little while. I won’t go to sleep though. Because I need to leave.

I can hear the world still continuing on around me. Doctors and nurses doing their jobs. Patients and victims all doing theirs. My body is cold, and then it’s too warm, but I don’t pull off the blanket that’s just been laid over me. I leave it where it is because I’m tired and comfy. And I haven’t slept in a really long time.

Almost two days, possibly. Maybe more.

Everything is a blur.

Each day has morphed into the other.

Each morph makes less sense than the last.

How did I get here, and when can I go home? Is my mom coming to get me?

I am a good boy, I think as I look at the blurry world around me.

“I am a good boy,” I say, adamant in my conviction.

At least, I was good until I wasn’t.

Right up to the point that I picked up the knife.

Then I wasn’t very good anymore. And I knew everything had changed forever.

I saw the fear in his eyes. And I saw the wonder in hers.

“I’ll always protect you, Carrie,” I say. And I mean it now like I meant it then. I’ll always protect you, my Carrie.