Chapter twelve

He was pacing down an alleyway, running his fingers through his hair. His breathing was ragged and he needed a way to vent his frustration. Finding nothing to help ease his anger he swung his right arm out and punched the wall to his left. The force of the wall against his clenched fist sent a surge of pain all the way up his arm. He gritted his teeth and accepted the fact that this is what he deserved.

Dylan wasn't one to get angry very often, sure he was sarcastic but that was his way of communicating with others. This was out of character for him which is why Zoe was shocked when she found him having a fight with a dustbin. He had clearly kicked it and punched it multiple times as there were indentations all over the object and it was laying on it's side. Zoe ran up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder, signalling for him to stop and turn to face her. When he did so she could see the anger in his eyes but also a glint of sadness.

"Dylan, what are you doing? This isn't like you." Her voice was croaky, almost as if she was holding back tears.

"What I should've done a long time ago. What I should have done to him."

She was puzzled, her facial expression said it all. "What? Who's him?"

Dylan refused to tell his secret to her. He shrugged her hand off of his shoulder and walked out of the alley, kicking an empty cardboard box on his way.

Zoe watched him leave. Should I go after him? What if he becomes angrier... No, he's your friend and you have to see he's alright. And with that she scampered off after him, making sure to leave a good several feet between him and her.

He didn't go far. He turned a couple of corners and entered the cemetery. Zoe questioned her subconscious on whether or not she should follow him in. After weighing up the pros and cons she came to the conclusion that she'd wait out here and see what he does and then retrace his footsteps once he leaves.

She was just finishing her fag by the time he left. Making sure the coast was clear she made the same path he did until she ended up at the headstone he was looking at. Emma Keogh. Loving wife and mother. 1940 - 1970.

As Dylan was making his way back to Holby ED he was really starting to feel the disadvantages of getting into a brawl with a brick wall and a metal bin. Glancing down at his misshapen and swollen hand he gently ran his left hand over it, feeling for any lumps and bumps. After the excruciating pain of his examination was over he deciphered that he probably had a couple displacement fractures and that his hand was, well and truly, fucked.

His trek back to the ED was a long one. Mostly because he was walking at an average speed of under 1mph. When he did arrive there he was greeted by a lot of concerned faces. They know your secret.

"Alright mate?" Asked Tom

"Who me? I'm just dandy" He retorted sarcastically

Tom looked him up and down and caught glimpse of his black and blue hand, "Well that hand says otherwise. What happened? It looks like you caught it under a lorry."

"You should have seen the other guy"

He let out a short burst of laughter, "You got into a fight? I find the lorry story easier to believe." He put his hand on Dylan's shoulder and began nudging him to a cubicle. "Come on. Let me take a look at that and you can tell me all about your fight"

Once in a cubicle Dylan was reluctant to give Tom his injured hand. "Look, it's obviously broken. You don't need to be a doctor to see I have a couple of displacement fractures. Just save us both a lot of time and pain and send for a bleemin' x-ray"

Tom smiled, "Me doctor, you patient. What I say goes. Now let me examine your hand ... please"

Dylan held his arm in front of Tom and allowed him to check him over.

Tom began by gently taking his hand with the both of his and bending it at the wrist. He soon stopped when he could see the discomfort on Dylan's face. "Does that hurt a lot?"

"No, I always make this face when I'm happy."

"At least your lovely personality is still intact. I'll give you 2 mg of Vicodin to ease the pain."

Once the drugs had kicked in Tom began his examination, again. He palpated Dylan's hand and worked his way up to the wrist. Feeling content with his efforts he ordered an x-ray which confirmed Dylan's thesis.

"Looks like you were right Mr Genius. You have 2 displacement fractures in your metacarpal bones and your radius is fractured."

Dylan's facial expression was bland as usual, "Hurrah for me."

"So, what did happen to you?" Tom asked

"Well, I, erm ... I seem to recall punching a wall in an attempt to ease my frustration and when that didn't work I attacked a dustbin, which was surprisingly better."

"OK. I'm not even going to ask why. What I will ask though is that you exhale deeply ... now" After the now Tom yanked Dylan's hand down in an attempt to realign the bones.

"Alright mate, one more and then we'll get you plastered." He did the same as before but this time he pulled his hand diagonally up. Dylan gritted his teeth and exhaled (which did nothing to ease the pain).

Once the grueling work was done and his arm was plastered he dismissed Tom, took another 1 mg of Vicodin, and allowed himself a quick nap.

Sat in her office, Zoe was leaning over her desk submerged in an article she was reading. She moved her lips as she silently read the text to herself.

She closed her laptop and dropped back into her chair. She was in shock at what she had just read. It was something she could only imagine in a nightmare. How someone could put their child through such monstrosity was a mystery to her. When Sam burst into her office she didn't react. Her eyes were the only thing to move and they locked onto Sam's.

"What did you say to Dylan?" She asked, she looked concerned.

It took Zoe a few seconds to fully register the words Sam had just said. "Nothing. I didn't say anything?"

"Come on Zoe. What happened when you and him left here?"

"We went to a bar."

Sam moved closer to her and placed her hand on Zoe's arm, "Then what happened? Did he seem ... paranoid?"

"How did you know?" Zoe was beginning to return back to herself.

Sam let out a sigh, "I can't say. Please, just tell me what happened once you were at the bar."

"Well he went and bought the drinks and when he came back he seemed different. I don't know what it was but he didn't seem like his usual self. He asked me how my day was and when i answered he questioned my response. He was agitated." She paused and allowed herself some time to breathe. "I told him. I told him about the kiss and then he snapped. He started yelling and then he left."

Sam nodded, signalling for her to carry on.

"I followed him out. He was down an alley venting his anger through physical action."

"How do you mean?"

"He was punching the wall and kicking bins. I tried to stop him but he said it was what he should have done to someone. I asked him who but he just stormed off again."

Sam looked at the floor and muttered something under her breathe.

"What was that?"

Sam shot her head back up, "Nothing. I just huffed."

"No, you said something."

Sam looked uncomfortable, Zoe wondered if she knew what was wrong with Dylan. "You know when you said Dylan deserved better because he'd been through a lot in his past. What was it that he'd been through."

Sam squirmed, "I - I can't say. He'd be angry. I promised him."

"Was it to do with his mother?"

Sam looked shocked. How could she possibly know about Dylan's mother.

"His mother? What do you mean?"

"I know Sam. I know that he witnessed his mother's death. I know he was abused by his father."

"How could you know? He's never spoken openly about it. I was the only person he told."

"Because he visited her grave and I followed him."