He heard the constant rhythmic mechanical beeps that echoed through the stark white room; the soft breaths that crawled out of thin unconscious lips; the occasional rustle of the starched hospital sheets, each noise burrowing into his psyche leaving grimy stains of guilt on the lobes of his brain. He shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair, the squeaky faux leather whimpering under his weight. Letting gravity do the rest of the work, Larry slowly sank; his back caving into the empty space.
He most vividly recalled the bright red blood on the groin of the sleeping man. It was hard to forget. The air had been cooled by the velvety night and smelt of cut grass and an impending rain, but none of those details clung to Larry's brain like the oozing blood that seeped into the fabric of Ronnie's underwear. Panic had boiled up inside his chest. "No! No, not again! Not another one," he worried in his mind. The blonde's hand would not be sullied with another human's blood. He was stained enough.
Picking up the scrawny man as if he were only a rag doll a child might play with, albeit the coagulating blood and missing appendage, Larry carried Ronnie off to the van, guilt soaking his thoughts as he ran through the abandoned playground shrouded in darkness. The van's dirty side doors were swiftly tore open and an unconscious Ronnie placed inside, Larry laying the slender man down, lowering his head with the utmost care. The blonde quickly grabbed a flannel blanket from the dark recesses of his van. Why was he putting a blanket over a bleeding man? Larry's mind spun at a delirious pace. Securing the blanket around Ronnie's jagged frame, he thought perhaps the blanket symbolized the comfort he was attempting to give the bleeding man, but a voice crept in through the back door of his mind, "How could a man who's ruthlessly stolen everything from him possibly comfort him?" The retired police officer's heart sank as he shoved the key into the ignition. He couldn't. The sulking figure in the hospital knew he could never make right what he had wronged. Starring at Ronnie's dozing figure under the mass of cheap hospital sheets, Larry knew he had to try; if not for Ronnie's sake then for his own. Guilt alone would kill him.
The mechanical beeps continued, the soft breaths, the occasional rustling of the sheets, but then there was a weak raspy murmur that escaped from the man's lips. Larry's attention was instantly pulled into reality, the depressing haze of his thoughts dissipating like a morning fog.
"Hey Ronnie," Larry spoke in a half yawn as he stretched the tension out of his body, resuming an upright position in his chair.
The smaller man's sharp figure froze at the sound of the blonde's sleep laced voice. Not the police officer. He couldn't be here. Ronnie's head pounded in a murderous fashion as his mind swirled with thoughts. Where was he? Suddenly the hospital air met his nose. Ronnie's expression screwed up into one of disgust. It smelt of strong chemicals and reminded him of death. Apparently the blonde had dragged him to the hospital after he collapsed. Ronnie grimaced. The man who hurt his mommy now sat at his bedside. "I'd rather be dead," he growled in his mind.
Ronnie's head moved sluggishly to peer over his shoulder. Narrowing his intense blue eyes, he pursed his lips into a tight frown. "What are you doing here?" the scrawny man hissed turning his head away from Larry in an almost child like act of spite.
Larry gripped his knees with large calloused hands as he heard Ronnie's words spat at him in a bitter tone. "I'm," Larry cleared his throat, "I'm here to help."
"I think you've helped enough," Ronnie grunted with venom lacing his voice.
Larry exhaled and sank back into the chair, defeated. He was aware of how much mental havoc he'd caused the man who lay before him. The only person Ronnie loved and trusted (and possibly the only person who reciprocated those feelings) was sent to the hospital by the reckless blonde, only to die shortly after. It was his entire fault. Ronnie's death had almost been added to the list, but luckily Larry had reached the hospital before he had bled to death from the lacerations. The blonde didn't expect Ronnie to open up loving arms and forgive or trust him, but the retired police officer needed it. He needed Ronnie to forgive him before he could forgive himself. Larry was willing to do whatever it took to receive his pardon.
Reaching out to a small bedside table, Larry grabbed a small stack of papers that leaned against a pastel green lamp. "You were in critical condition when I brought you here. You bled a lot, man," he explained as he flipped through the medical papers.
Ronnie let out an incredulous chuckle earning a grimace form Larry. His mood was becoming laced with irritation as Ronnie blew him off for the second time. Inhaling deeply, Larry reminded himself to calm down. Ronnie's resentful attitude was justified in every way imaginable. With an alleviating sigh, Larry continued. "They, uh, rushed you into surgery to stop the bleeding. They weren't able to salvage your, uh, y'know… penis, but they kept as much of it as they could. The nurse told me it would probably take you a little over a month to heal completely. They also told me to, uh, to tell you that they're willing to talk about your options when you've healed all the way."
Ronnie grunted. "I know what you think about this. Don't pretend to care. You're glad it's gone. Now I can't hurt anyone. I'm not a danger to society," he lectured while huddling beneath his covers.
Larry groaned inwardly. If that event had occurred any other day in the past he would have been openly exuberant, but now that he knew what pain he'd caused with his self righteous marauding through Ronnie's life, he'd never think it again.
"No, I don't think that. God, Ronnie, I hurt you so bad. I drove you to this!" he exclaimed indicating the injured smaller man. "You may not believe me, but all I want to do is help. I need to try and make things right."
There was silence for a lingering moment until Ronnie rolled over to face the man who had ruined his life. The brunet was a wreck form the loss of blood and seemed to struggle against the binding grip of the white sheets. Ronnie's face was utterly pale, his lip the dead hue of light purple, and small glistening beads of sweat that clung to his skin. Larry gulped nervously. Ronnie's gaze was so intense that it halted the retired police officer's heart beat.
"You need to make things right?" Ronnie hissed with a seething voice. "You hurt my mommy. How are you going to fix that?" he growled in his unnaturally innocent voice.
A long exhausted sigh came from Larry as his head lolled forward. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Let me wash your dishes for you' just didn't seem to cut it. "Let me take care of you while you recover," he offered weakly. It was the best he could do.
Ronnie smacked his lips dryly, appearing as if he was rolling the idea in his mouth, preparing to digest the generous notion. He glanced up at the retired police officer and starred into his eyes. He could see the blood shot white surrounding a pool of brown. It was obvious he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a few days. Worry seeped out of the blonde's pores along with a distinct scent. Larry seemed to be missing more than just his sleep. Ronnie didn't trust the man who had hurt his mommy and tormented him constantly, but the bitter truth was no one else was there to help him recover. The dull throbbing pain in his groin alone told him he wouldn't be able to travel about his house freely, only making his situation that much more dependant on the man sitting next to him. For now, and he stressed for now, he'd take the police officer up on his officer.
"I need some water," Ronnie mumbled hoarsely.
The hospitalized man hadn't answered yes or no to his proposition, but Larry knew how to read between the lines. Jumping to his feet quickly, the blonde grabbed a small plastic cup off the top of a tower of many. Using a tan pitcher, he filled the open mouth, perspiration slowly building onto the plastic.
"Here ya go," Larry said passing the frigid cup to the injured man. The brunet sipped at the contents gingerly, not giving Larry the satisfaction of a thank you.
Larry towered over Ronnie's hospital bed for a brief moment before receding back into his chair. Little by little he would try and out weigh his sins with good deeds. Perhaps, one day, Ronnie would forgive him, but until then the retired police officer would bend over backwards to please the man he had destroyed.
"Thank you," Larry said under his breath.
Black silence consumed the room. A steady fragile tongue of moon light lapped at the shattered glass and porcelain figures that graced the hardwood floor. The broken figurines starred off into the darkness with broken smiles and cracked skulls. It was an eerie sight and the faint smell of blood wafted in the air. Outside the angry remnants of destruction a van pulled beside the curb. A shadowed figure trotted around to the side doors, opening them and pulling out a metal contraption. Rustling the man's clothing, a soft breeze blew as the passenger door flung open nearly hitting the shadowed figure in the face. An angry grumble ensued, but a response never came. A thin frame was lowered into the metal wheel chair and pushed to the front door of the house at a slow speed. The entrance's doorknob rattled before swinging open. Larry sauntered into the room. The silence consumed him and ebbed away at his nerves. To his right he could see the glittering pieces of jagged porcelain.
"Where's the light switch?" Larry questioned before clearing a lump of unease in his throat.
A voice came from behind the tall man, "To the left. No, where your hand used to- no other way. Right there," Ronnie explained as Larry's hands roamed over the wall uncouthly. The switch was flipped and light illuminated the grim scene Ronnie had left behind. Larry's eyes darted around the room in a dark sense of amazement. Figurines and clocks lay broken and scattered on the floor, a trail of blood droplets traveled from the kitchen, past Larry, and through the front door in a serpentine shape. Larry resisted the urge to turn around towards Ronnie and gawk at the smaller man, but better instinct told him to leave it be. These wounds on Ronnie's heart were real and recent.
Walking back outside, Larry gripped the clammy rubber handles to Ronnie's wheelchair and pushed him back inside the destruction he had left. Ronnie's countenance was cold and empty as Larry pushed through the broken wreckage towards the large brown armchair. Was Ronnie really not affected by all this? No, Ronnie was human. He knew this was tearing the brunet up inside like a razorblade milkshake.
"Do you want to watch TV?" Larry asked stopping the chair beside the recliner.
"Hn," Larry answered tight lipped giving a slight nod.
Larry traveled around to face Ronnie. He could see the pain in his eyes as he lifted him up out of the chair. It broke he retired police man's heart to see that kind of agony in a person's soul. He had remembered that same look in the eyes of the boy's parents. Larry mentally shook himself out of his thoughts. He didn't need to go there tonight. Setting Ronnie down, Larry exhaled. The petite man was heavier when he was conscious. Ronnie's thin wiry fingers reached over to a small table beside the chair and grabbed a long black remote.
"I'll leave you to watch TV. I'm gonna clean up," Larry explained leaving the room and walking to the kitchen. As soon as Larry reached the kitchen, he collapsed against the counter. All that disarray was his fault. He knew it. He could see it in the sheer loathing he felt off every glimpse Ronnie sent him. It must have been soon after his mother died. Ronnie had lost it, turning his burning emotions into violence against the mocking porcelain faces and ticking clocks. The blonde lowered his head in shame. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw a brown dried pool of blood a few feet from where he stood.
"Oh, God," he stuttered with tears forming in his eyes. He felt disgusting, like he did after killing the innocent boy. Cold guilt crept up his body and gripped his mind. What could he possibly do to make this tragedy bearable for Ronnie?
Glancing to his left, Larry spotted a rag by the sink. That's right. He had come to the kitchen with the intention of cleaning. Reaching out a shaking hand, the blonde grasped the rag and soaked it in the faucet's spray. The blood starred up at Larry, thick and coagulated. A muffled thud emitted from the padded linoleum as he dropped to his knees and began scrubbing at the brown pool.
Long hours passed as the devoted man cleansed the house of previous events, but he couldn't wash the sick feeling from the pit of his stomach. Each blood droplet scrubbed off the floor caused Larry's bottom lips to quiver in remorse. Each porcelain doll gawked up at him with a mocking smile and happy glistening eyes. The retired police officer had half the mind to break them all again, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. He tossed the bloody rag into the kitchen sink and carried out a hefty bag of trash. When he returned to the living room, he tuned in to the soft sound of Ronnie's sleeping breaths.
"I guess he fell asleep," Larry thought ambling over to the second recliner and plopping down.
Larry watched the TV screen as the pictures moved and slapstick comedy was attempted, but his attention slowly drifted the sleeping man. Ronnie was completely relaxed, his head lolled to his right shoulder and lips slightly parted to allow him to breathe easily. He looked innocent. Larry grumbled under his breath. Ronnie was everything but innocent. He had exposed himself to a child! That child was innocent, not Ronnie. He continued to gaze upon the smaller man, baffled by how someone so fucked in the head and ugly could possibly look innocent. He growled at himself. It was a stupid train of thought, but his mind clung to how docile Ronnie seemed. He must have been good at one point. What had compelled him to expose himself to a child? Larry had been known to flash ladies back when he was a teenager, but that was a joke, they were adults who had already seen one, no harm done. The child on the other hand had something pure, they'd never seen a penis, probably didn't understand their own genitalia. Larry worried his bottom lip. Something had to have made him this way. You aren't born sick.
"Ronnie McGovery, known to this small town as its number one threat," the television spoke. Larry turned his attention to the screen again. A small woman with flowing brown locks sat donned in a red dress suit. Larry continued listening intently, "… was hospitalized late Thursday night with a critical injury. Doctors have refused to comment on the injury, but the town seems to be at rest because of the news." The screen cut to a woman with a large build and scraggily blonde hair. "I'm glad he's off the streets. Hopefully someone did the right thing and castrated him," she grunted. Larry grimaced at the woman's words. If only she knew. A tall handsome tan man appeared on the screen. "Shit, Brad?" Larry sputtered as he leaned forward in his chair.
"He's a danger to the children of our community. I was there when he came to the public pool. I'm gad he's off the streets for the time being," Brad commented in a placid tone.
A small grunt drifted to Larry's ears from the other chair. The hair on the back of the blonde's head stood on end. He glanced over at the small man and saw his grim expression in place of his sleeping one. Larry's heart raced as he leaned forward swiftly, turning the TV off manually.
"What was that?" Ronnie asked coolly.
"Er, nothing." Larry responded slumping back into the recliner.
"I know it was about me. You don't have to lie," the brunette commented.
Larry licked his front teeth nervously. Ronnie was in a terrible condition to begin with, he didn't need to know the entire town was rejoicing at the fact he'd been injured. "Let's get you to bed. You look tired," Larry interjected, off topic.
Ronnie gave Larry an incredulous glace. "Fine," he sighed bitterly.
Explaining where his room was located, Ronnie directed Larry to aid him up the stairs. The blonde slung Ronnie's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him up with a labored grunt. The man had practically no strength as they ascended the stairs at a sluggish pace.
"The room's at the end of the hallway," Ronnie said in exhausted spurts. Just climbing the stairs had taken a toll on his weary body. Obliging the smaller man, Larry led Ronnie to the room at the end of the hall, each step reverberating through the corridor softly.
"Where are you going to sleep?" Ronnie asked wearily as they entered the blandly decorated room.
"I was thinking of taking that one by the bathroom," Larry responded laying the weak man down on his bed.
Ronnie's eye bulged and his frame went rigid. "NO! You can't sleep there. That's mommy's room," he stuttered as if the retired police officer was threatening him with a knife. He sprung forward and sat up, instantly extracting a pained wince from the small man.
"I'll sleep on the couch. Just calm down, okay?" Larry reassured pushing Ronnie back into the bed gently.
Ronnie inhaled deeply, his eye heavy lidded with sleep. "Not," Ronnie muttered as he slowly began to drift into an exhaustion induced slumber, "not mommy's room." Larry sent the dozing man a curious glance. What was all this mommy stuff about? The woman was dead. Perhaps Ronnie hadn't come to terms with his mother's death. Ronnie had been through enough, so he'd oblige for now. The blonde grabbed a thick blanket and secured it around the man's slender frame. In a way he felt like a mother hen. Chuckling, Larry padded to the door and turned off the lights.