Two for Joy - Louise Collins Page 0,50
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 his 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