The space between the tears we cry
Is the laughter that keeps us coming back again
The space between the wicked lies
We tell and hope to keep safe from the pain
Will I hold you again?
--from The Space Between by the Dave Matthews Band
He was still staring at it when Gabe returned with his medicine. She was reading the label, tapping at it with a finger.
"Hm. Side effects, just a minor headache. That's not too--" Gabe halted in her tracks, spotting the hideous thing in his hands. Her face paled a little. "What's that?" she asked slowly.
"I was hoping you would know." Micah looked up at her from beneath scowling black brows. The girl blinked at him in surprise.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He tightened his grip around the cob of corn.
"Come on, Gabe," he snapped. "Something's going on here! The crucifix, Mr. Towers-- this disgusting thing--" Micah emphasized these last words by heaving the ugly corn-Jesus at the wall. It hit with a sickening thud and rolled slowly across the floor.
"I don't know why you're getting mad at me!" cried Gabe, hurrying over. "It's not like I put it there!"
"But there's something going on!" Micah glared up at her. The corn cob had struck a nerve with him, like someone poking a rather sore bruise. "It's so goddamned obvious, Gabe!" She had pulled up a chair next to the bed and was now slipping an arm around him.
"C'mon, Micah. It's early, and you haven't had your medicine yet--" Micah snorted indignantly and pushed her away.
"Stop talking to me like I'm four years old!" he cried. Gabe jerked backwards, looking wounded. Then she uncapped the bottle of medicine and poured some into a cup.
"Drink this," she said quietly. Micah glared at her. The hurt look still in her eyes, Gabe pushed the cup gently at him. "Please." He considered it for a moment, then snatched the medicine and downed it quickly. Gabe smiled weakly and took the cup from him. "Thank you," she said, tossing the cup at the trashcan.
"Mmph." Micah crossed his arms over his chest. Gabe sighed a little and slid an arm tentatively around him, almost as if she were afraid of the reaction.
"Look, I'm sorry about what's been going on, and I'm trying to find out who's behind it." When he didn't jerk away, she nudged his face gently with his nose. "And until then, all we can do is wait. Okay?" Micah shot her a sidelong glance. She was smiling hopefully
(you idiot she's just trying to help)
and lightly stroking his arm. Giving in, he sighed and leaned against Gabe.
"Sorry," he mumbled. Looking rather relieved, she gave him a gentle hug.
"It's all right." Gabe snickered then and gave his neck a little kiss. "I don't like it when you get upset." Then she pulled away and ruffled his hair lightly. "Listen, I've got to go tend to some other patients. Nurse Pruitt's sick today, so I have to do half of her schedule." She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'll be back around lunchtime. Y' want me to bring you something?"
(Anything's better than corn.)
"Yeah, sure," he said absently. Gabe grinned.
"Okay. I'll pick up something on my lunch break. Stay out of trouble until then, 'kay?"
(I'm not finding trouble. It's finding me.)
"Will do," he assured, flashing a smooth grin.
(See through this, Little Miss Mind Reader.)
Gabe winked and exited.
Nurse Edith popped in later to change the sheets. Micah was placed back in his wheelchair and told with a grin that he was allowed to wander around. Seeing as he wasn't bored enough to watch the plump woman change the blankets on his bed, Micah took her suggestion and wheeled out of the room. On his way out, he calmly and carefully ran over the corn-cob Jesus, crushing it.
(Heck, I'm getting the hang of this.)
Micah coasted in silence down the white, pristine halls of the hospital. He did his best to be polite, smiling and nodding, but the nurses just acted like he was some kind of
(freak is that it)
slimy bug. He shrugged it off, figuring that that was how most nurses acted anyway, but he had the slight feeling that he was wrong. The nurses not only seemed to think he was a
(freak that is it isn't it)
disgusting insect, but they didn't want to keep their contempt to themselves. They whispered to other nurses, to doctors, to patients even. Micah began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Reaching out a hand, he stopped a nurse by snagging her wrist.
"Hey," he began quietly. The nurse's eyes became roughly the shape and size of dinner plates.
"Let go of me," she whispered in a little voice. Micah raised his eyebrows and didn't obey.
"Could you tell me where I could go to see the sun? I'd like to go outside for a little while." The nurse's eyes, if possible, grew a little wider. She shook her head slowly.
"Oh no. No no no. You can't do that." Before he could ask questions, she had wiggled out of his grasp and seized his wheelchair. In a matter of moments, he had been returned to his room and dropped off like a package.
He sat there, blinking, for a good thirty seconds before he wheeled sharply around.
"Hey, what do you think you're--" But he was yelling at a closed door. Micah blinked again, then cursed hotly at the ground.
(Something's not right here, and you know it.)
The words chanted in his mind like a song, twirling and dancing.
(Something's not riiiight here, you knoooow it...)
"Shut up," he mumbled, and slowly pushed himself towards the bed. Nurse Edith had left, so he was alone with no way to get back into bed. He mulled over this misfortune for a moment before settling back in his wheelchair. "Wonder when Gabe'll be back," Micah muttered to himself, glancing at the clock. It flashed 7:27 obnoxiously, and he made a face at it.
(Oh well. May as well sit back and get some sleep--)
And again came that taunting song.
(Something's not riiiiiight heeeeere...)
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Micah blocked out the thought and waited for sleep.
(oh god get me out of here)
Rows of corn surrounded him.
(no no no not again please no)
They towered over him, tall and forbidding. He no longer cherished those stalks, oh no. He hated them. He hated them because he feared them.
(I can't do this I can't I WON'T)
The scythe rested heavily in his hands, waiting patiently. Everything was waiting. Waiting for him to make his move.
(I WON'T DO THIS, YOU HEAR?!)
But the figure before him, the shadow bound on the bed of corn stalks, was waiting as well. It shuddered and whimpered piteously, begging for him to let them go. This fear, this disgusting display of weakness, made him angry. He hid his emotions, damn it, why couldn't they?
(Don't get angry, don't get angry--)
He raised the scythe to stop their weakness. Because, of course, it must be stopped. The words left his lips before he was even aware--
"Pray for forgiveness."
--and he brought down the scythe.
Micah woke up suddenly-- no screams, no tears. Just an overwhelming sense of guilt and the scent of soy sauce.
(Soy sauce?)
He looked up and saw Gabe enter, arms full of white cartons and an apologetic smile on her face.
"Hey," she said cheerfully, closing the door behind her. "Did I wake you up?"
"No." Micah shook his head and looked curiously at the boxes she was holding. "What's that?" He held his arms out obediently as she quickly transferred him from the chair to the bed, then turned and seized a tray.
"Edith drove me up to Wong's Express," Gabe told him as she placed four cartons of food on the tray before him. "I picked up some stuff, 'cause I wasn't sure what you liked."
"Chinese food?" he said dully. She nodded emphatically.
"Yeah, it's great! I love Oriental food. Now here--" Gabe began opening the cartons one by one. "--this is egg fu yung. This one's crab rangoon. This is just fried rice, and the last one is my favorite-- almond chicken." She smiled and produced two forks. "I've got a couple of egg rolls, too, so just dig in." Gabe didn't waste any more time; she poked into the carton of almond chicken and fished out what looked like a green bean. Micah made a face, but tentatively took an egg roll and bit into it.
"Mm. Not bad." He took another careful bite, then popped the rest into his mouth. Gabe grinned at him.
"See? Told ya."
"Mmph. I'm full." The girl grimaced and pressed a hand to her stomach. "I shouldn't have eaten so much." Micah smirked, poking around in the rest of the egg fu yung.
"I'll say. You inhaled three egg rolls."
"Don't you start," Gabe warned. "I seem to recall that you downed four of those crab rangoons." She smiled and dragged a napkin over her mouth. "Eh, I better get this cleaned up. If any of the other nurses see this mess, they'll have my head." It hit him that suddenly.
("Let go of me.")
(looking at me like a freak)
("Oh, no-- you can't do that!")
(she was afraid no terrified)
"Gabe--" he began. The girl paused, already gathering the cartons of food.
"Hm?" Micah wiped his fingers on a napkin and looked up at her.
"About the other nurses," he said slowly. Gabe tensed. "This morning, I went out into the hall. I asked someone for directions, because I wanted to go outside-- but she looked scared." He stopped, thinking this over, then let out a frustrated growl. "Oh, hell, Gabe-- she was petrified of me!"
"I don't understand what you're saying," the girl murmured, lowering her eyes. This made him nervous; Micah reached up and grabbed at her arm.
"Gabe, something's going on here. I don't like it. People, they don't look at me right--"
"You're just imagining things." But she looked up anxiously, eyes meeting his for just a moment -- and that was all it took. It was almost as if things had been reversed
(how do you like being looked through)
and he were the one with all the answers.
"You know, don't you?" he said quietly. Gabe swallowed thickly, busying herself with the discarded napkins.
"Know what?" It was horrible; Micah had seen it in her face.
"Why I'm in here." There was a long, terrible silence, and then she spoke.
"Just the basics," she said in a small voice.
"What kind of basics?" His voice held a tinge of coldness, but he didn't care. Gabe began twisting the dirty napkin nervously.
"Well... I know that something went wrong in your town, there were murders... and there was something about corn... and that you were supposed to be behind it--" She saw his face tighten and hurriedly added, "But I never believed that! I knew that there was something wrong, but it wasn't your fault!"
"The whole hospital knows," Micah said quietly. It was so obvious, why didn't he see it before? Gabe shook her head.
"No, no, not the whole--"
"Yes, the whole hospital!" He banged his fist down on the tray, making the cartons jump a little. "Gabe, the whole goddamned hospital knows that I'm a murderer!" The girl's eyes widened; she tossed away the napkin and started towards him.
"No, that's not true!" Micah pushed her away. Hard.
"Do you think I'm stupid?!" he cried. "I'm not! Do you think I haven't noticed how everyone looks at me, and the little surprises in my bed? I've noticed, Gabe! I've noticed!" Gabe stumbled backwards, her eyes large and wounded.
"Micah--" The little voice interrupted her.
(Don't get angry at her. It's not her fault.)
And suddenly, there was that other voice, the one with the words like acid.
(Yes it is. She lied to you, don't you remember? You asked her if something was wrong and she lied. But you knew, you knew! You're much smarter than she thinks.)
"You lied to me," he said softly. Gabe blinked.
"What?" Micah glared at her from beneath black brows.
"I told you. I told you that there was something wrong, and I asked you if I was right, and you said no-- you said no, everything was fine." His scowl deepened. "Everything's not fine, Gabe." The girl stared at him with large, unblinking blue eyes. She looked like she wanted to come forward and comfort him, but was afraid of another shove.
(...and now she's afraid of you too...)
"Micah," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that's happened, but-- you can't change anything! I've been doing my part, I really have! I told everyone that you weren't like-- like they thought, but--"
"You don't need to defend me," he muttered. Gabe's patience had been spent. Her eyes flashed dangerously.
"No one else will," she whispered. Micah winced at the words, then looked up with a scowl.
"Get out! I don't have to listen to this!" The girl let out an exasperated sigh and pushed away hair from her eyes.
"What are you gonna do, get up and walk away?!"
The room went silent.
Gabe's face paled the moment the words left her lips. Her eyes widened as she pressed a hand against her mouth.
"Oh-- oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that, Micah--" The words hurt. They hurt more than he could've imagined. Worse than Mr. Towers' screaming accusation, worse than the corn-cob Jesus. His hands clenched the white sheets tightly.
"Get out." Gabe shook her head.
"No, really, I can't believe I said that--" Micah glared at her.
"No, no! You're right. That's all I am, right? A legless, heartless, mindless son of Satan. A murderer." The girl shook her head again, slowly this time.
"I didn't say that."
"But that's what you meant!" he cried. Micah's voice had gotten high pitched, and that only added to his embarrassment and anger. "Get out." Gabe stared at him, looking hurt.
"Micah--"
"GET OUT!" His fingers found the carton of almond chicken and he heaved it at the wall, where it hit and exploded in a flurry of rice and vegetables. Gabe didn't wait. She whirled and -- just like that -- she was out the door. Gone. Alone now, the full impact of what she had said
("What are you gonna do, get up and walk away?!")
and what he had done
("GET OUT!")
hit him. His hands flew to his face and Micah crumbled, the hot tears finally coming. He was alone, and there was no one to console him but the voice with incredibly awful advice. Micah waited for yet another pearl of wisdom, for the voice to give its opinion yet again.
(It was your own fault, you know. You lost your head.)
That was the worst, because he knew it was right.