"Somebody here to see you Mr. Stoppable." The nurse favored him with a vicious look of contempt as she held the door open.
A vague shape appeared at the head of Ron's hospital bed. The man it resembled glowered at him as he tapped his cigar.
"So you think you're all that Stoppable?" he said, his face calm but shaking, a violent rage barely concealed by his forced civility. "You think you're hot shit, huh? You think you can ruin my schemes and just waltz away scotfree? I own this town Stoppable, from the whores to the clergy, and there's nothing you can do about it. I can destroy everything you know and hold dear, and not one person- NOT ONE- will do a goddamn thing."
He took a puff and continued, a cruel smile on his face.
"Oh yeah, you could go up to the Judge and tell him everything, and he might not be entirely bought off, or what you tell him is so offensive that he has a sudden flash of conscience. But you know what happens then? I go after your family, your friends, your co-workers, their families, and so on. Yeah, and especially that tasty bitch you saved. Oh, yeah, perky tits and a redhead to boot. My boys will have a hell of a time with her, and I'll send you a tape of the whole thing so you can watch it after your family's funeral."
"You better believe it, you little shit. I'll destroy everything- EVERY FUCKING THING- that holds you together and makes you a man, that makes you what you are. You know what's beautiful? I can threaten you, spit on you, fucking shoot you right here in this hospital room and nobody will do a damn thing. Isn't that pretty? Doesn't that just chap your ass? I can do anything, and you, Ron Stoppable, can't do a fucking thing to stop me. Not anymore."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a slip of paper.
"Prewritten for ya Stoppable. You kidnapped Kimmy, you tried to rape her, only Barkin managed to shoot you just before you shoved your dick in her mouth. Just sign the confession, and all is forgiven. You're off the hook. Well, except for the attempted rape, and all that, but your family lives. Your parents goes on with their lives only thinking you're a rapist instead of being shot in the head during a 'robbery'. Your friends won't visit you in prison, 'cause who'd want to be friends with a. . . heh, a monster like you? Hey, at least they'll be alive, right? Sure, people will look at you like you're walking around with a dog turd in your mouth, but what's that matter in the grand scheme of things?"
He strutted, and paced in front of Ron's bed. "Nothing much you can do Stoppable. Just sign it."
For the next minute he simply puffed on his cigar.
"That's the way you gonna be? Fine," he said and stormed out, pushing as orderly out of the way as he left. The startled man glanced back, but entered the room as he did, and then turned his face towards Ron, contorting it as he faced him. The disgust and contempt was palpable. He roughly tossed the tray of food onto the night stand even though Ron couldn't move his arms more than a few inches at a time, and left.
A few people came to visit. His fiance, Zita, and her father. He waited while Zita asked him questions, then cursed him when he stayed silent. As she left, her father turned slightly, and spoke. "I don't think you did it. . . but there's nothing I can do," he said, hanging his head. "Just stay strong, alright?" He was grateful for the advice, though it comforted him little.
Next was Kim's mother and father. Her mother simply walked up to the bed and slapped him, hard. The needles in his arm fell out. With a sob, she replaced them. "I hate the hippocratic oath," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I hate it. You piece of shit." With that invective, she turned and left, her husband's arm around her.
His own parents were a little more forgiving. They promised him that they believed in him, and they'd get the best lawyer they could, Myron, you know Myron Spiegelman, your cousin's father's sister's husband? He's the best in the tri-city. Don't you worry, we know you didn't do it, but he could see the doubt in their eyes. He couldn't blame them. He'd confided in his father that he loved Kim, and that her dating Mankey was tearing him up.
Then as the hospital was shutting down a night or two later, a scratch came at his window. A shadow, and then a shock of red hair floated over him. Her lips brushed his, her face sad as could be.
"You didn't do anything," she said. "They tried to get me to say you. . . you. . . raped me, but- but I'm still a virgin," she said, and smiled down at him, her hand resting on his chest, making his pulse race. "My mom says that she'd disown me if I visit you, but I don't care. They got to her, and my dad though not as badly. They even talked to me a little, telling me things might go bad for my. . . chastity if I talk." She shuddered, then composed herself.
"It's yours, you know," she continued, abruptly purring in his ear. "I'm yours. And I'll be waiting."
"Fifteen years, less time served."
The gavel coming down was a thunder clap, shaking him to the core.
And so it began. Although not in the way he'd thought. When he arrived, the guards had beaten him, shoved him into his cell, and mocked him for an hour or so. Kim was a well known hero and well-liked by the lawenforcement community who saw her as amascot, if not a fully respected member. As he lay, broken, bloody, the tiny room spinning mercilessly, he saw a small pink envelope on the floor.
"I used a drop box and a fake name, so they'll never figure out who I am. I'll write to you every week. Shelly."
He cried for an hour, and fell asleep on the floor that night sobbing into the concrete.