Every once in a while, along comes a day that you know is going to be bad. Everyone has them. You lay in bed, nice and warm, and you know that as soon as you get up, you'll wish you hadn't.
Today was one of those days, but being a nurse in a prison, I've still got to go to work. At first, I thought my worries were groundless. But my absolutely wonderful luck showed it's face when I reached for the toothpaste after getting dressed. None left, great. It'll get worse before it gets better, I thought.
Michael looked as if he were dying when he walked into the infirmary. It was difficult to discern the color of his face from the white wall behind him. The prisoner was breathing rather loudly, trying not to sob with each breath. His eyes were pointed towards the floor in an attempt to shut out the rest of the world. At the sight of him, the forced smile on my face faded away.
"Michael, are you alright?"
He walked to the hospital bed and sat down, non-responsive.
"I'm sorry, that was a stupid question," I said.
Michael continued to stare at the floor, and I turned toward the counter to prepare his shot. Seconds later, he let out a yell that made me jump. When I turned around, he was headed towards the door.
"Stop it Michael, go sit down."
"I can't, I've got to go see my brother. They're gonna kill him," he said in a shaky voice. His fearful eyes met mine for the first time since his arrival, and it was heartbreaking. He didn't look like the charming, intelligent, handsome, mysterious man I thought he was. Now, he looked like a lost child. He looked broken, as if the world was beating him down, and just now bringing its hand down for the final blow. I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes from having to see him like this, and it was impossible to find the words I needed to comfort him.
"I'm really sorry about your brother, but if you run off then you'll just get in trouble with the guards. They'll let you see him later, so sit down. Don't make me use the hose," I told him while reaching for the hose attached to the sink.
Michael slowly took his hand off the doorknob, and before I knew it, the inmate's arms were wrapped around me. I put my arms around his neck as he held me closer, needing a shoulder to cry on.
"I really am sorry. I don't really have the words for every situation, but--"
"It's alright, you don't have to," Michael said, sniffing and wiping his eyes with one hand. He broke the embrace, leaving me feeling cold. The sorrowful blue eyes met mine one last time, and he walked out without any protest from my mouth.