"Happy Deathday to you, Happy Deathday to you, Happy Deathday Dear Drew, Happy Deathday to you." Sings Marko, accompanied by a maniacal smiling laughter.
Marko is a definite psychopath. I'm cursing myself; I should have ensured he was sedated at night. But it's too late now. Again, complacency has caught us, and kicked us in the goolies, again.
Drew is just one clean swipe away from his end.
There is nothing I can do. Engaging with Marko's sense of humanity is futile, as he doesn't have any. Also, any kind of pleading for Drew's life will be music to his evil ears, and I can't give him that pleasure.
So Tan and I remain silent, our eyes fixed on Drew's; we try to impart warmth, love and empathy in his final moments. When his eyes retract into their sockets, we know he's resigned, relaxed to his fate. Tan and I have been in his situation - near death brings: calm, peace, and a longing for a swift passing.
"I liked your mother, Marko," says Tan.
Her words take me by surprise.
He spouts another roaring laugh, "Liked her enough to slice her in two," he sneers.
Tan is calm, "I believe she wanted to die. She regretted how deeply entrenched in The Surgeon's world she'd become." She moves one step closer, "Surely you don't want to become likewise, trapped. Why not free yourself of the hold they have on you." She reaches out her arm, slowly, "Give me the knife, Marko," she says, softly.
My heart rate raises, "Tan, go easy, step back," I say. But she raises her hand; in a 'trust me' type gesture. My head's alert, my body and baseball bat primed.
Marko removes the blade from Drew's neck and extends it toward Tan's outstretched hand. She moves forward, with slow, tentative baby steps.
My heart's banging in my head; it's difficult to second-guess a psycho.
Tan stops when the scalpel is hovering over the palm of her hand.
I keep my body tight, my eye on the blade, mindful that one swipe could open her radial artery, and she'll bleed to death. But I won't let that happen.
The sound of our: short, heavy breathes, punctuate the tense atmosphere.
It happens in a split second - all I see is the flash of blade speeding through the lamplight, followed by a splash of spurting red.
"Aaaaah - you douche!" Exclaims Tan, as she's hit with the delayed pain of the slice across the palm of her hand, that Marko has just inflicted.
I snatch her back into me, rip off my t-shirt, and as I wrap it around the wound, I note it's not too deep, a surface slice. He's playing with us.
"It's game on, Mad Marko!" I say, while wrapping my shirt tight around Tan's hand.
But, when I look back up, I see something weird, "Tan, look at Marko!"
His arm is still outstretched, but he's dropped the scalpel. And, it's his eyes we notice. They're swiveling back in his head, until we just see the whites.
Drew stands bolt upright, staring ahead, his body kind of quivering.
A sound seeps from Marko, like a low-level whistle, which stops, when his knees buckle and he drops, but doesn't quite hit the floor. He's kinda just hanging, his head lolling by Drew's side.
