Brasht jogged back with a new flashlight. He entered Dahn's room and then the closet, almost stepping on his brother. "Aron?"
Brasht used the flashlight to make a sweep of Aron's body. His head was at such a severe angle that Brasht didn't dare move him. His right arm was bleeding profusely, and one of his legs was impossibly bent under him at the hip. "Koma! Koma, help!"
"Dosh yo find Daun?"
"It's Aron, call the medics!"
"He had Becky's knife." Brasht said, sitting in the chair beside Aron's hospital bed. "How did he get Becky's knife?"
Aron was in no position to ponder the point, so Brasht was talking to himself.
Brasht leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Exhaustion took hold, and while he couldn't fall asleep, he couldn't force himself to move even though his neck was aching, his kneecap itching, and his sock falling down.
When he finally opened his eyes, it was daylight. Brasht yawned softly and looked over at his brother. His leg was in a plastic and fiberglass cast, his neck in purple brace, and his arm heavily wrapped. Monitors of various kinds were clamped on the fingers of his left arm, beeping occasionally. An Intravenous feed dripped a blood solution and a respiration aided or controlled (Brasht couldn't tell which) Aron's breathing. Although Aron had fallen less than ten hours ago, Brasht had already accepted it and was still moving forward. "Hey, Aron. I've got to go to work. I'll come back on my lunch break." He left this building with the promise that he would be called if Aron awoke.
He checked into Casa de la Paz and pulled his custodial cart from the closet. Room by room, he visited the residents. "Good morning Lisa."
Lisa smiled at him.
"How are you today?"
"Gah." she said, still smiling hugely. "Ooo?"
"I'm good, too. Did I change your sheets yesterday?"
"Uh."
"All right. Then let's water Arnold."
"Ah-ol!"
"That's right. You hold this sports bottle and we'll take it over there."
Five minutes later, Lisa was in her chair, smiling at Brasht as he left.
"Good morning, Frederick. Aren't your parents coming today?"
"I ope not. I ate em."
"Well, move a second, so I can change your pillowcase."
"Otta ave a fresh one, every day."
"I know it. You can't go without a fresh pillowcase."
"See ya, Asht."
"Later, Frederick."
"Tremone."
"I in bad mood, no touching. No touching things either. Come back later."
"Okay."
"Trying to control self. Trying to use therapy lesson. Come back later."
"You're doing good. See you later, Tremone."
"Rojsh? Are you in here?"
She wasn't, and he had changed her sheets yesterday, so he pulled his cart out of the room and continued down the hallway.
Royland wouldn't have any one in his room before noon, so Brasht continued to the next door. Dahn's.
"Hello, Dahnyil." he said, gravely.
Dahn ignored him. Rosjh was sitting on his radiator, watching the trees outside.
"Hi Brasht."
"Hey Rosjh, what's up?"
"Where's that bugger Aron? He's to see me today."
"He's in the hospital."
"Thot's an awfully horrid place. Why the bloody hell would he go there?"
"Watch your language."
"Me apologies, Sire Brasht."
"He's in the hospital because he fell out of an attic at the top of a closet."
"Top o' a closet! Whot on earth was a brainy lad such as Aron doing at the top o' a closet?"
"Looking for Dahn."
"Did 'e find 'em?"
"He did."
"Why'd he fall?"
"What we think happened is, his flashlight went out, Dahn cut him with the knife, and he jumped to try to save himself."
Rojsh's face went grey. "Dahn cut him with the knife. The knife...Becky's knife."
"Becky's knife."
"Dahn, you cut me brotha with Becky's knife."
Dahn looked up at her impassively.
"Me brotha's in a hospital cause you cut him with Becky's knife." To Brasht's amazement, tears leaked from her eyes. "Becky's knife put me here, Dahn. You con't do thot to Aron. You con't!" She turned to Brasht, sobbing. "Kin we veesit heem?"
"We'll get the release papers filled out now, and we can go if you're willing to miss lunch."
"I'll miss lunch."
Aron opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The white lights cast a blindingly glaze over his eyes and he shut them tightly. His neck and leg were pulsing with pain of such intensity it brought tears to his eyes. His arm itched and throbbed and he was remotely aware that he couldn't move. "Aahhh." he said, and it was a hoarse horrible sound that called his attention to his need for water.
"Hey, Aron."
It was Brasht, he knew the voice.
"I." he croaked. "Hirsty."
"Okay."
A straw was placed between his lips and he drank, choking on more of the water than he swallowed, but it helped nonetheless. He coughed, and every cough sent waves of pain through his body. Tears flowed from his eyes, but he could not consciously control them.
"Dahnyil cut you?" Rosjh asked.
"I ote know." he whispered, keeping his eyes shut tightly. Rojsh held her hands over him to shade his eyes.
"Do you remember going to the attic to look for him?" Brahst whispered, back in his chair.
"'O."
"Do you remember visiting Cozmin?"
"'Orta." Aron was silent for a while before he whispered, "Vegan Palace."
"Okay." Brasht said, correctly assuming that the restaurant had been in his brother's conversations earlier in the day.
"Becky's knife." Rojsh whispered.
Aron closed his eyes and returned to sleep.
"Becky's knife."
"Rojsh..." Brasht knew what she was talking about. Their earliest memories were of guns and knives, drugs, alcohol, and sex. They had all seen Becky pass out after getting her fix, and going hungry until she was conscious enough to feed them. They grew up quickly. Becky had determined that she should be the one to give them their first high; all her friends and fellow druggies had been incarcerated or killed and she was lonely.
Rosjh had been just fourteen when Becky got her high. They got into a fight shortly afterward and Becky had cut Rojsh's neck with the knife. The amount of blood she lost and the consequent brain damage changed her life forever. She could function in society, if she had someone with her, but when she was sixteen, she was taken from Becky and put into the Casa de la Paz, Now that was familiar, better for her.