---
I let out another huge sneeze, and Shawn shoots me a disgusted look.
"Shut up," I say, rolling my eyes.
"I didn't say anything," Shawn replies.
"Your face did," I retort, feeling my irritation spike.
"I didn't think someone could still be mean when they're sick—until today," Shawn says, with a hint of disbelief.
Sets of coughs interrupted my words, and I groan. With great effort, I pull myself up, trying to ignore the mocking smile on Shawn’s face. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I clutch the bed's rail for support.
"I need air," I wheeze, feeling faint.
"You demanded we shut the window some minutes ago," Shawn points out.
"Something you guys refused to do," I mutter under my breath. "And that was when I was cold."
"I am not your caretaker or babysitter, dude," Shawn says.
"Not with that attitude, you're not," I shoot back, my voice strained.
"Where are you going?" Shawn asks as he watched me stagger out.
"Would you also like to carry me to the clinic?" I snap, the ache in my head getting the best of me.
"I seriously can't wait for you to get well," Shawn says with impatience.
My chuckle is interrupted by another fit of coughing.
I seriously can’t wait to get well myself.
Remember when I said I felt unusually hot on Christmas?
Turns out I was sick. As if spending Christmas behind bars wasn’t bad enough, I had to endure it while sick. My head was pounding, and I needed something to relieve this pain.
---
"Any improvements?”,Dr. Liam asks.
I quirk an eyebrow, taking a seat on one of the hospital beds.
"I have a question for you."
He gives me a curious stare.
"Go on."
"Why do you choose to spend your New Year in this dump?
No offense, but spending your holiday working especially in a place like this makes you look like a loner."
"That's because I am. Just moved here from Texas and I have no one to spend it with."
"Thanksgiving not enough for you?"
He chuckles.
"Well, my brother died in an accident on New Year's, so I need to keep myself busy—something to get my mind off everything."
"Don’t you think a drink would help better?"
"I don’t drink, but I can do my job. So, let’s get on with it."
----
I tried to mind my business. Seriously, I did. But when someone is staring not-so-subtly at you and acting suspicious, you definitely can't keep minding your business.
Ten minutes ago, Dr. Liam had been called to receive the hospital’s delivery at the front desk. Apparently, their shipment of medicines and health supplies always arrived on Tuesdays, leaving me alone with an inmate who had come in shortly after I did. The guy—brown curly-haired—kept staring at me. I fidgeted with the stethoscope in my hands, pretending again as if I found something interesting about it.
I noticed his shock upon seeing me but chalked it up to my appearance—being in prison can make anyone look rough—being sick in prison was a whole lot worse but now his behavior was making me second-guess that.
He moved slowly back toward one of the hospital beds, but I couldn’t help but follow him with my eyes.
An officer entered, carrying a brown box, and just like the curly-haired guy, he gave me a quick look of surprise. His expression changed in a blink, replaced by cold indifference.
After him, ten more officers entered, each one hauling in more boxes. They stacked them neatly in the corner by the cabinet.
One by one, the officers filed out, except for the first one, who lingered a bit longer.
He exchanged a few quiet words with the curly-haired inmate, sending me a few sideways glances that made my suspicions valid.
Finally, he left, but not before giving me one last weird look.
Just as the door swung shut, Dr. Liam came back in, his entrance cutting through the thick, uneasy silence that had settled over the room.
He raised an eyebrow, noticing my distracted expression.
"Something wrong?"I shook my head quickly, trying to shrug off the unease.
There was an odd tension hanging in the air, thick and suffocating, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.
I slumped onto the clinic chair, trying to focus on anything but the cold creeping through my bones, worsened by the suspicions clouding my mind and the uneasy looks I received from both the brown-curly-haired guy and the officer.
"All right, let’s have a look," Dr. Liam says, pressing his fingers against the inside of my eye, lifting it up to inspect. He grabs the stethoscope from the table, leaning in close to listen to my breathing.
"Deep breath," he says.
"Doc," the brown-curly-haired guy calls out nervously, clearing his throat drawing both our attention.
He leaned on the wall close to the brown boxes, stacked where the officers placed them.
"Can I get the drugs myself? I can't stay long today."
In that moment, the room felt unusually quiet, the only sound was my breathing.
"Yeah, sure, you know where it is."
Dr. Liam pulls away a little to make some notes on his clipboard, muttering to himself about a blood test.
I glanced at the brown-curly-haired guy, who worked quickly but quietly, his fingers prying at the edges of the brown box, stacked on top of the rest that the officers had brought in.He peeled slightly at the tip of the box, moving in slow, practiced motions. His eyes flicked up briefly before he cracked the lid open, ripped a small bag off the box’s flip, and reached inside to grab something small. A vial, followed by a needle, went into his pocket in a heartbeat.
---
Comment a smiley emoji to encourage me.
There are more bad days than good these days but with Christ, I'm going strong.
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Behind Bars
SpiritualBehind bars; the last place you'll want to ever find yourself but at twenty-five, that's where he sees himself. All he wants to do is survive because that's all he can do. But prison is more than a place filled with evil people facing punishments fo...
