Angels and Monsters

Ch. 2: Boiling Point

It had been three weeks since Ronnie was first admitted to the hospital. Sarah and Larry were standing outside the closed door, trying to ignore the raised voices from inside room 370.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but the family wasn't comfortable with the idea of you being there," said Ronnie's sister, Carol.

"You were never there for her, Carol! I was!" snarled Ronnie's voice. "I was there the night she died!"

"You are so full of shit, Ronald James McGorvey! Mom only took you in because no one else would!"

"All right, all right! I get it! Discussion over, get out!"

"You may be my older brother, but you can't order me around like th—"

"GET OUT!"

Carol McGorvey ducked the vase Ronnie had chucked at her head. It exploded on impact with the door, the fresh sunflowers Sarah had brought a few minutes earlier lay on the floor amid shards of broken pottery and spilled water. Carol stepped over the mess and strode down the hallway and to the elevator, never looking back. On instinct, Sarah bent down and began to pick up the flowers. Ronnie saw this, lowered himself into the wheelchair by the bed and wheeled himself over to her.

"Don't—don't do that," he said, getting out of the wheelchair and kneeling beside her to pick up the broken pieces of pottery. "It's my fault anyway," he went, tensing at a wave of pain in areas he never thought should feel pain. Ronnie looked at Sarah inquisitively. "You're the woman I spilled my guts to the night my mother died, aren't you?"

"She's visited you every day for the past two weeks and you never realized it 'til now?" Larry asked.

"In case you've forgotten, I've been drugged outta my fucking skull," Ronnie shot back. He bit his lower lip and lowered his eyes, concentrating on the broken ceramic. "Ssshit!" McGorvey hissed, dropping a particularly sharp shard a few seconds after picking it up. He balled his right hand into a fist, clutching it to his chest with his free hand. "Fuck!"

"You're bleeding," said Sarah, noticing the red splatters beginning to stain Ronnie's hospital gown near where his hand was. "Let me see,"

"No…" said Ronnie, his voice a near whisper. His tone made it sound as though he was expecting to be beaten.

"It's all right," Sarah replied, gently reaching toward Ronnie and pulling his injured hand toward her. There was a long cut from the base of Ronnie's index finger to the center of his palm. "Oh, it doesn't look too bad," Sarah went on, wiping away some of the blood with her thumb in order to check the depth of the cut. "I'll call a nurse to get it bandaged up."

"Why?" asked Ronnie quietly, pulling his hand away and rubbing the areas of his hand Sarah had touched.

"You don't want to bleed all over the place—" Sarah started.

"I don't mean that," said Ronnie, looking both surprised and exhausted. "Why are you being so nice to me? I'm a monster—"

Sarah felt a pang of sadness. He believes what everyone says about him, she thought. Poor thing…

"Says who?" she asked.

Ronnie's ice blue eyes darted to Larry and then locked onto Sarah.

"Everyone," he said. Larry shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably and Sarah understood.

Ronnie doesn't trust him…

Sympathy flooded through Sarah as she put her hand to Ronnie's cheek and smiled at him.

"I don't think that at all, Ronnie," she said.