I own nothing. Father Brown and all associated with such belongs to BBC and G.K. Chesterton.
Inspired by Season 4 Episode 6: The Rod of Asclepius
Spare the Rod
She hadn't meant to do it. Any of it. Her anger had soared to such heights that when it finally torpedoed towards the depths of her soul it had had no choice but to collide with the vast ocean of sorrow awaiting at the bottom. Indeed a driving hazard for one who sat behind the wheel of a killing machine. Truth be told, the rage she felt only sought to fuel her need to throw caution to the wind; to damn the suffocating cage of obedience. If she died, then so be it, but hell, pushing the pedal to the metal was so freeing. She had reveled in the warmth of reckless behavior, but at a cost; you see, her friend was now lying in a hospital bed not far from her own bruised and sore body.
Everything was just peachy until someone got hurt, she thought bitterly.
Mrs. McCarthy had unfortunately been taking a stroll down the very same road that she herself had designated as a new racing track. Almost hitting the church secretary was not enough; no, she just had to offer her a ride into town. She remembered the look of shock on the elderly woman's face after the close call, but whether out of fatigue or mistaken trust, she still agreed to the lift.
That's when things really started to go south.
Stir in a few uncontrolled emotions with a captive audience, while throwing in a death wish for good measure, and what do you get...yours truly decorated with an arm cast along with a comatose Mrs. McCarthy.
The bed next to her radiated with an eerie calm; its occupant kept silent. Truth be told, she'd give anything to have her sparring partner back in action. The battles they'd fought over the years had only served to strengthen the ties between them in some twisted way. It wasn't as if they had anything in common as she was currently married and McCarthy was widowed, but what stood out the most was the age difference, and yet they had managed to reach above the water line only to find dry ground together.
And THIS is how you repay her...
The tears fell bitterly, but she knew that remorse could not summon consciousness back to the sleeping form that rested just inches away from her own.
What if she never wakes?
That question alone caused waves of convulsions to beleaguer her body, expending energy that she could not afford to lose. I can't breathe, was the last thing that she remembered in a coherant state as shivers began to rack her spine. Fighting for air, her hand flew to her chest as the tears fell faster from her eyes. That's when she realized that she couldn't move. Every muscle seemed to stiffen and yet her body was still actively trying to crunch itself into a fetal position on the bed. Sensing darkness overtaking her consciousness, she allowed her small frame to collapse into a heap of shaking sobs; the war had been lost.
Nothing can save me now, she whispered voicelessly, fingers forced to her mouth to stave off the cry of desolation that welled deep within her soul.
Morning bird serenades danced effortlessly through her ears, begging last nights memory of horror to slip away quietly.
I feel so horrible.
She breathed heavily into the pillow as she tried without much success to gather her legs up towards her chest. Her entire body rejected every order that required movement, opting instead to stay in its current position.
How lovely is this? And..am I drooling..., but before she could get any farther down her path of amusings, her nose picked up the faintest trace of a familiar aftershave.
Oh, no. No. NO. NO. NO!
"I came to see how you two were faring today." She heard the crick of the chair as he lowered himself onto the seat.
Suddenly alert, adrenaline rushing through her veins, an attempt was made to sit up so that she could properly face him; shame and all, however, her injured arm was choosing not to partake in that type of fun.
"Here, let me help you with that", he mumbled as he placed the pillow gently upright at the headboard so that she could rest her back against it. That's when she felt it; the graceful graze of a hand on uncovered flesh. He hadn't meant to do it, that she was sure of, but the small favor of contact led her thoughts down a road that she would rather not travel right now; least of all in front of him. Withdrawing his hand swiftly, the moment faded as she more heard than saw him retreat hastily back to his seat at the foot of the bed.
A poor "Thank you", was all that she could muster as she settled down delicately onto the mattress, pulling the the covers up as she went. Stealing a glance, she found him staring coldly; hands clapsed together tightly. Judging by the look on his face, he was not going to make this easy for her and better still, why should he? She deserved all the burning hatred and unbearable disappointment that was about to be unleashed upon her. Right?
Gathering as much courage as possible, she started off with "Um, I'm really glad you came today", but no response was awarded to her. Again, "I am doing better. The doctor thinks that I should be out in about a week...", still nothing. The final blow came in the form of "Unfortunately, Mrs. McCarthy is still uncon.."
"You could have killed her", he whispered.
Effectively stopping her from finishing her sentence, she found herself becoming tense with anxiety. While, desperately trying to find the right words of pacification, another more pronounced ,"You could have killed her", hit her in the face.
Her fingers clutched at the bedsheets.
"I'm so sorry..I'm..so..sorry...I know I shouldn't have. If I had it do all over again, I would never have gotten into that car."
He rose to his feet. She watched as he stalked over towards her bedside.
"You could have killed her."
"I know. I know. I'm sorry."
Leaning down, he brought his face within mere inches of hers.
Another whispher from his lips, "You could have killed her."
Registering his breath on the side of her face, dread pooled within her stomach.
"I'm sorr.."
Losing all control, he grasped the bed rail until his knuckles turned white.
"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HER!"
"I know!", she heard herself screaming; the stress of the situation beginning to feed the cracks in the emotional dam.
"Then why!"
Why? If only he knew how many times she had asked herself that same question and failed to give a sound answer, however this outburst only served to ignite her pent up rage-at her life, at him, at everything and before she could keep the fire from spreading, the words were set loose from her mouth.
"What do you want me to say! You want me contrite, well here I am! I have sat here day after day praying and hoping that somehow in the morning this will all just have been a nightmare, but with each sunrise I am reminded that this isn't just some made up nonsense; no, this is reality! My reality! This is Bridget's reality!", he took her breathy pause that followed as cue to interject, but she was too fast for him. "No," her voice dangerously low,"You get to listen", she commanded. "I have and always will regret what I have done for the rest of my life. Don't think for one second that I won't. As I have stated before, if I could do it all over again, I never would have gotten into that car and she," pointing strongly with her good hand at Mrs. McCarthy, "wouldn't be here. I take full responsiblity for that!"
Thwack!
The railing vibrated as his hands made contact with the cool metal. Standing to his full height, she found herself shaking as he began lowering himself again towards the side of her face; just close enough to be unnerving, yet still far enough away to not be in range of touching the shell of her ear with his lips. She had never seen him so angry, even when...
"Your actions have consequences. So the next time, think before you decide to get behind the wheel of a potential killing machine or you just might finally get in over your head", and without another word he took his leave, but not before turning and giving a quick squeeze to the hand of his dear friend in the neighboring bed.
Hearing the door slam, she sat stiffly under the sheets; head reeling. Per usual as of late, he left her within the cruel hands of silence. Unmerciful at its best, she found herself wading in the waters of condemation because if he truly wanted to, he could sentence her to a life of solitude; one without him. An easy feat for someone, if said relationship going to be affected is already crumbling at its foundation.
Thinking back-Your actions have consequences...
This wasn't the first time that she had been blessed with those words of wisdom from him and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Undoubtedly so, she was remorseful, but she couldn't help to think; had the situation turned out different and the roles were reversed with Mrs. McCarthy playing the irresponsible driver and her the innocent victim, would he have reacted the same? Would Mrs McCarthy get the blitz of her life or would she be showered with forgiveness and love? Would he have extended the hand of grace to her instead of the tongue of flames? Would he have spared her the rod?
End.