“And you know what’s worse,” Alan said before Tina could reply. “I don’t even care and get mad when I see the people on TV saying all these bad things about him and the nurses talking in the hallways. I just want to scream at them that he was a good person and whatever it was that made him do those things, it wasn’t who he really was.”
Tina stared at him for several seconds and then said, “I feel the same way, but then when I hear what he did I get angry at myself and at him because I feel like I was tricked and lied to.” She also felt cheated, but didn’t want that to slip out.
“I’m really sorry,” Alan said.
“Why are you sorry?” Tina asked. “You had nothing to do with it.”
Alan looked away for a while and then started to say, “I know I just…” but stopped because the words weren’t there. He couldn’t express what he felt.
“But really, why make a big deal out of it right? I mean, I finally find a guy I really like who seems to like and respect me, but just happens to be a blossoming serial killer who has two girls locked up in a secret underground chamber. No big deal.” She put a hand to her face and started crying. “Why did he do this to us?”
Alan didn’t have an answer for that.
“And why did he force the police to shoot him right in front of us? I can’t get it out of my head.”
This was another reason why Alan liked the pain pump. It helped push aside memories like that when they became too much to bear. Watching Jimmy’s body vibrate with bullet impacts, and then turn and look at them before collapsing had been a chilling sight, one which would stick with him for the rest of his life.
Tina wiped at the tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I know you’re supposed to be resting and now I’m stressing you out with all this.”
“No, it’s okay,” Alan said. Like him, she had no one to really talk to. “You can talk to me whenever you need.”
“Thank you,” Tina said. “It goes both ways, okay.”
“Okay.”
The next morning the FBI came to talk to Alan again but once again he couldn’t really tell them much, which seemed to frustrate them and made them accuse him of hiding something.
Eventually they left.
Alan watched the door after that, wishing Tina would come back, but she never did. A few hours later, however, a nurse came in and started disconnecting all his IVs and his pain pump.
“What are you doing?” Alan asked. His voice was panicked. He didn’t want to lose the pain killers.
“You get to go home today.”
“No one told me that,” Alan said.
The nurse shrugged. It was the same one who had let him sit in bed with a full bed pan for over two hours the other day, one who seemed to think he was responsible for the things his brother did.
Would that always be the case? he wondered. Will I eventually have to change my last name so no one knows who I am?
It was a troubling thought, mostly because he didn’t like the idea of being forced to sever himself from his older brother despite the awful things he had done, things he still couldn’t see his brother doing.
“Ahhh,” Alan cried as the nurse yanked the IV from his arm.
“Sorry,” the nurse said with a smile.
Alan watched her like a hawk after that, his mind wanting to be prepared for any pain she attempted to cause.
Eight hours later Alan wished he was back in the hospital because the pain killers they had prescribed him were nowhere near as effective as the ones that had gone right into his blood stream. He also didn’t like getting in and out of his bed without being able to raise it up and down. Worse, his parents weren’t easy to get a hold of when he needed something, though they were still better than some of the nurses had been. Bottom line, he wished his leg were all better and pain free.
I wish Jimmy hadn’t shot me.
This led to a long line of wishes of things he wished Jimmy hadn’t done, though none of them concerned his suicidal attack against the police because, having thought about it, he was glad his brother was in the grave rather than a prison cell, one which he would have rotted in for the rest of his life.
At nine o’clock he popped an extra pill to try and help him sleep. Within minutes the extra dose kicked in and he felt himself drifting.
Glass shattered.
Screams followed from his parents downstairs.
Alan opened his eyes and saw light dancing on the dark bedroom wall, light that was coming from down the hallway.
“Mom!” he cried.
There was no answer.
“MOM!” he screamed again.
“Alan!” Kelly Hawthorn cried. Her voice sounded very far away.
He could smell something burning and a second later the first tendrils of smoke drifted into his room.
Oh god!
Alan reached around in the dark for his crutches; ones which barely helped him walk thanks to the pain in his leg, and the heaviness of the device holding everything in place, and forced himself to his feet.
The room swirled when he did this, the pain killers having really started to kick in.
“MOM!” he cried again.
This time no one answered.
Thick dark smoke started to follow the path left by the thinner smoke.
Alan tried to duck beneath it as he made his way to the bedroom door but couldn’t due to the crutches.
His taste buds suddenly examined the flavor, while his nose desperately tried to suck in fresh air.
Smoke filled his lung and he fell to the floor, his leg screaming despite the pain killer, the sounds of something cracking, maybe one of the support pins on the device reaching his ears.
“MOM! DAD!” he screamed around his choking sobs. “HELP ME!”
No one came.
Knowing he couldn’t use the crutches, not with the heavy smoke at head level, he started to crawl into the hallway.
Smoke was billowing up the stairway and into the hall without any resistance and he realized it wouldn’t be long until the entire second floor was toxic.
GO! his mind ordered.
He crawled as fast as he could toward the stairs, the smoke getting lower and lower.
His parents’ bedroom was to the left of the hallway.
Alan looked in and saw that it was empty, the bed still not slept in since that morning given the decorative pillows, which meant his parents had probably been downstairs when the fire started.
But why didn’t they come for me?
The answer to that didn’t matter at the moment, and he twisted himself away from their doorway and continued toward the stairs, the sounds of stuff burning now reaching his ears.
A part of him could also feel the heat of the flames even though he couldn’t yet see them, almost as if his skin were simply anticipating the burn that would arrive.
Alan made it to the top of the stairs.
Flames had reached the bottom steps.
His heart sank.
The front door was only four feet away from those flames, but the chances of him making it there and getting out without the flames scorching him weren’t good.
Two tall windows boarded the doorway. Through one he thought he saw movement.
If you just get to the door they can pull you out.
You will be burned.
The smoke continued to get lower and was now only two feet above his head.
If you stay here you’ll be dead.
Alan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his mind not relishing the thought of the pain that was about to come.