reason he’s in here.” Zander said.
Paul laughed. “And the reason Romeo’s in here is because he’s a murdering psycho.”
Romeo slurred something in Zander’s direction. His eyes went comically wide, and Romeo had to keep his cool not to laugh.
“What did you say?”
Romeo tried again, slowing down his words, talking as carefully as he could without moving his tongue. “My head feels strange.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Strange.” Romeo slurred.
Zander turned back to the governor. “He needs an MRI scan.”
“He’s a criminal.” Paul argued.
“We still have a duty of care. He’s still my patient.”
“He’s an animal…”
“Enough.” The governor said, glaring at Paul. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“But he’s faking it.”
“He’s a high-profile prisoner, and thanks to Holly Stevenson this incident is all over the press. We have to do this by the book, and if he needs outside medical attention, then we have to give him that.”
Paul backed off, seething and shaking his head.
“What’s gonna happen to me?” Romeo asked. It took Zander a few seconds to understand what he’d asked, then he nodded.
“We’re gonna get you to hospital.”
“You said I’m in hospital.”
“A different hospital. They’ll be able to tell us more.”
“More?”
“About what’s going on in your head. I think you could have a bleed, or a blockage.”
“Enough of this shit.” Paul said, he came towards Zander, pulled Zander’s pencil from his pocket, then stabbed Romeo in the arm. The tip went in, more than the tip, at least half a centimeter of pencil went into the meat of his forearm.
They all froze.
Think of Chad. Think of Chad. Think of Chad.
It took everything, every bit of self-control Romeo had. He used his mask, looked down in confusion at his arm, and the pencil sticking out of it, but he didn’t react. He didn’t curse or grab Paul, and bash his head open like he wanted to. He stayed perfectly still, until Paul backed off with his mouth hanging open, and his hands up.
“I—I…”
“That tingles.” Romeo whispered.
Zander took the pencil out, studied the gushing wound, then flicked his angry gaze at Paul. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I thought he was faking.”
The governor moved away. “I need to make the arrangements.”
“Did he just stab me with a pencil?” Romeo asked.
“Yeah, fucking animal…” Zander said, before pressing down on the wound.
Romeo didn’t flinch, or make any outward sign he could feel it, but inside, he was howling in pain. He got the green light for a hospital trip, and it only cost him a hole in his arm, and a broken bone in his face.
Chad was definitely worth it.
Chapter Fifteen
Fred helped him down the corridor, through the seemingly never-ending doors, and gates, until they were walking outside, across the secure carpark. It was dark, but there was a murmuring, a crowd waking, before the shouts of his name, and the camera flashes started.
“Fucking animals.” Fred mumbled.
Two officers were in front of them, two officers were behind, and despite the fact he struggled to walk, they still cuffed his wrists. Paul opened the door of the prison van, the same type that had bought Romeo to the prison almost a year before. He pointed at him to get inside, and he made a show of stumbling slightly before climbing onboard.
He tried to get comfortable on the small seat, but with his arms secured at his back, he knew it would be a bumpy and painful ride to get to their destination. Paul slammed the door shut, and Romeo heard the crunch of the lock.
The engine rumbled to life, and they were moving. It was slow at first, the van was struck by the swarm of journalists, a camera hovered by the small window, but Romeo ducked to avoid getting captured. One voice broke through the non-stop questions, Holly Stevenson’s. She shouted for Romeo, and a fist banged the door beside him.
“You’re gonna be okay.” She shouted.
“Goodbye, Holly.”
The van picked up speed, they must’ve broken through the crowd, and were on their way to Norman’s Hospital. He knew the layout of the hospital, had played the homeless-man long enough to get a feel for where the exits were.
He’d taken a big risk after the DI had his heart attack, but he needed to see for himself he hadn’t accidentally caused someone’s death.
That would’ve complicated his countdown, put a blip in his target number.
It wasn’t part of his plan.
Getting inside hadn’t been a problem, he’d walked through the front entrance, but after someone spotted him lurking, he had to look for a different exit. The man followed him, yelling at him, drawing