The Criminal Outrage

Chapter 13

My head hit the soft cushion of my bed. A cloth kept getting pushed across my forehead, and it was annoying. After a while, I pushed it away, and I heard some gasps from above. Was I dead? In Heaven? I couldn't be. It was just a little beating, nothing too bad. If anything was that bad, I would be on a stiff Hospital bed, not my soft cushioned bed. Something that I have been nervous about is the fact that maybe I was in the past, back at the House where the Officers were killed, and that I was shot. If I couldn't open my eyes, it would make sense. I was complaining about it a few days earlier, so it's possible.

I was incorrect, thank God. All of my stress disappeared when my eyes opened, well, more like exploded open. I saw Sly kneeling next to my bed, with his eyes widened. I didn't see anyone else, but it was comforting to see Sly, even though he'd sliced the throats of many before.

"Hey, Pick. Do you feel any better?" He put his hand on my forehead like I was sick, and waited for an answer.

"I don't know. Should I?" I asked. I wasn't lying, either. I felt like crap, but I felt fine at the same time.

"Well, after Maddog bashed your teeth in, I'd expect you to feel pretty darn bad."

I panicked, and launched myself from the bed, feeling my teeth. They were all still there, and Sly chuckled. 

"I wasn't serious."

He was lucky that I was weak. I stayed in bed for a few more days, sleeping here and there. I saw no one else, just Sly, and I began to wonder where everyone else went. The day I woke up feeling perfectly fine, Sly was already waiting for me by the door. 

"Did you expect me?" I whispered as I walked past him. He chuckled like he did a few days before, but didn't answer. It took my legs a while to realize I was actually walking. They buckled, A LOT.

No one else but Sly and I were at the House. I wanted to ask Sly where everyone had gone, but I didn't have to. He answered it long before I asked.

"The others are at the Hospital. I want them Home, just like you probably do, but they're watching out for Banshee. He'll be fine, I think."

"What about Maddog? He's ok, right?" I didn't want to ask so many questions, but this one was necessary in my opinion.

"Uh," He started, and it didn't make me feel confident. "Maddog was supposed to be in critical condition, but he escaped the Hospital. The Cops are lookin' for him, so I think we'll find him."

"Critical condition? How?" I forgot how Banshee shot him so many times.

"Banshee. He shot him. You don't remember? You got beaten up, and Banshee shot him?"

"Nah. I guess I was hit really bad."

"Tell you what," He shifted his weight onto one hip, like he usually does, and started speaking again, "They won't be back for a while. Let's go have some fun, huh?" He slugged me on the shoulder.

"What?"

"Or not? We could stay here."

I didn't want to really do anything other than see Banshee at the Hospital. I wanted to see how he was doing.

"Let's go to the Hospital. Don't ya think it would be nice to stop by?" I moved passed him, but he stopped me with his whole left leg.

"I don't think it's a good idea. You don't want to see Banshee...or hear him. Uh, let's just go drink or...I don't know, you choose. Sound good?" He made an awkward face towards me. I could tell that he tried to stop it, but he couldn't.

"What are you talkin' about? I don't want to hear him?" I kicked his leg away and stared at him straight in the eyes.

"His tongue. It's not really...there?"

My legs buckled really badly at this. What did he mean? It was not there? Disappeared?

"It was cut off."

He read my mind.

"Who the ell' cut it off?" I backed away and towards the door.

"Maddog. Man, you were really hit hard. You don't remember them fighting, ending with Maddog cutting half of Banshee's tongue out and then getting shot?"

I will never be able to explain how deeply that messed me up. Banshee could never speak again, because of Maddog? His own friend? He took it way too far. First the gun, then the cutting? If the Police ever found Maddog, I'd kill him myself! No, I didn't want to be killed. He'd probably bring some weapons with him, ready to shoot someone. Now I hope I never see him again, because someone will die, or go to the Hospital. 

"Yeah. Good idea. Let's explore," I wanted to lose my mind. Forget about everything.

The rest of the day was mind-boggling. I drank about 12 cokes, and I got into a lot of bets. I broke into a lot of cars, and got caught in the process. The bright side of that is I got a lot of cash from the cars, and I cut my hand. I need to rephrase that. I cut my hand by accident, but the guy who caught me forgave me and drove Sly and I to the Hospital. 

Ricardo was smoking on the outside, and so was Stick. When they saw me, they smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant "nice to see you" smile. It was a "you're lucky you're alive" smile. Ricardo almost gagged while Stick rushed to hug me. Sly came out, too, but no one greeted him. Ricardo held me close, happy to see me, but worried what I'd think about Banshee.

"Don't go and see Banshee, he-" I cut Ricardo off.

"I heard. Sly told me this Morning," I responded.

I didn't really listen anyways. I went straight up to the room with the others and busted into his room. He was just...I'm not sure how to describe it. He was just there. He looked dead, but I was glad that he wasn't. When he saw me, he started gagging.

"E- eh- slehhhh" Is all I heard from him. It was sad. I didn't want to see him like that.