Raising a Psychopath

TWELFTH

Inexplicably dazed, my thoughts had been conquered by one person only.
What had happened kept replaying in my mind as I sat next to him in the ambulance, rocking back and forth when I was ordered not to touch him, as three paramedics hustled in the ambulance.

There was blood everywhere.
Roman's blood.
More blood than I've ever seen on him before.

The doctors tried to clean his shot wound, placing an oxygen mask that covered his mouth and nose, and monitoring his fading pulse. It was a nightmare. A nightmare in the most surreal, horrid of forms. Losing someone you care about.

In only a split second before he fired, Roman pulled out the rim from his mouth when his father lunged at him, shooting his shoulder instead. A brief moment after that, when Avery managed to snatch the gun from Roman, the police barged in.It was amazing, how utterly calculated the incident was. I should've known better, since Roman was involved. He wouldn't kill himself for his father. I was still puzzled over why he had done it though.

I held one of his hands as he lay unconscious on a hospital bed, tears streaming down my face. My free hand brushed his raven-black hair back. The shock of actually shooting and the blood he lost rendered him unconscious.

I sobbed, gasping for air quietly as a nurse took some blood for testing whatever they were looking for.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered when we were alone. "I am so sorry," I buried my face in his chest, against the wrinkled paper gown they put my nephew in. His right shoulder was covered in medical cloths, an IV going through the curve connecting his forearm and bicep.

I could not protect my nephew. I could not aid him when he needed me most.
I failed him as a psychotherapist.
I failed him as a guardian.
I failed him as an aunt.

"Ms. Darling," a nurse leaned her head in through the door.
I looked back, promptly wiping my tears away.
"Yea. Yes?"
She glanced at my nephew then focused her attention back at me, "a psychiatrist was asked to come see Roman, whenever he's up."
A frown immediately broke on my face. "A psychiatrist? I'm Roman's psychotherapist, I don't need anyone else to take care of his mental needs."

The police had obviously questioned me and arrested Avery. I had no idea whether or not they were letting him go soon. Focus over Roman had dulled any other issue.
During my questioning I was asked unpleasant questions about how I treated Roman. Turns out, it was a huge concern of theirs that I didn't prescribe any medication for his instability. I had my reasons, and they weren't about to be invalidated by some other practitioner.

I found no point in arguing with the nurse about this, and simply dismissed it as I watched her walk out of the room.

"No, no way in hell," Roman whispered, and I immediately looked down, almost jumping back on my plastic chair.
He groaned as he touched the cloth covering his shot wound, then his icy eyes were on me, half-open. He looked so very tired, but I was indescribably overjoyed.

"Roman..." I grabbed his hand tighter, "Roman, oh my god, Roman-"
"Watch it, watch it, watch it," he slid his hand out of mine, "I'm on morphine, but I still feel pressure. Let me at least keep this arm."
My eyes filled with tears as I half-laughed and half-cried at his comment. I wiped my tears again as they rolled down my cheeks like a salty waterfall.  

"You fucking asshole," I said between gasps of trying to catch my breath. He knew what I meant. He didn't tell me about his plan. He didn't include me. Instead, I was shocked and left to my own devices.
"Had to make it as believable as possible, Als," he tried to sit up straight, flinching as he did so.
"Make what believable?" I felt idiotic, not catching what Roman had apparently planned out.