piano man; d.h [discontinued]

cell 17

The heavy door creaked open as I pushed on it with most of my strength. I stepped inside the small room, analyzing my surroundings. I didn't see anyone, at least not until I turned around.

"Hello," the man spoke, sending chills down my spine, his curly fringe swept to one side of his face, exposing his chocolate brown eyes. I took a step back, placing the small cup of pills on the table to my left.

"Hello there. You must be Mr. Howell." I tried to speak with confidence so that I wouldn't be seen as a target.

"It's Dan, actually miss, but I don't think I recognize you," he said, his eyes full of mischief.

"I'm Nurse Coldwell. I'll be substituting for your old nurse who was hurt yesterday and couldn't be here for today." I stayed standing as he walked around the room, pacing back and forth, his tall, skinny frame carrying itself from one place to the next.

"So she did get injured then?" he half-mumbled.

"I don't know exactly what happened last night, but from what I know, she got injured." This Dan guy didn't seem all that dangerous. All he did was walk back and forth and eventually sat down on the cell bed.

"Alright then. Meds?"

"Oh, yes. Right." I scrambled to get them off the table, pop the lid open and hand them to Dan, who downed them dry. "So, how have you been today, Mr. Howell?"

"I told you, love. It's Dan. And I've been just fine this morning. A bit tired from last night but, aren't we all?"

"What did you know about last night?" I needed answers.

"A few idiots tried to escape without understanding the basic principles of security. So they got caught and in the process, apparently injured a nurse which is, obviously, why you're here." He sounded incredibly intelligent for a mad man. Who was this guy?

"Right. Did you know their names?"

"Chris Kendall and PJ such and such. I don't really remember. I don't really care," he said, like he had a chip on his shoulder about something.

"Well um... is there anything else you want to talk about?" I didn't really know what else to say. What was I supposed to say to someone who was locked away in a cell who knew nothing about me?

"Darling, you're new to this, are you not?" The way Dan spoke was very odd, almost manipulative.

"That's Nurse Coldwell, Mr. Howell. And yes. I am."

"That let me give you a word of advice." He got up off the bed and walked straight towards me, practically pinning me against the wall. "Don't try to hurt me, dear. I'm much more powerful than you may think I am." He began slowly backing away when I checked my watch and realized that time was up, and I needed to leave, now.
I grabbed the empty pill container off the counter and stuffed it in my pocket before grabbing the keys. "Oh you're not going so soon, are you?"

"I'm afraid I have to, Mr. Howell. I'll see you again tonight." And with that, I left the room, shut the door, and locked it behind me.

Phil just stared at me the rest of the day, like I was an alien. He didn't talk to me, even though I followed him and Ruthie around for most of the day. I didn't know what was up with him, so I didn't make a big fuss about it. While Phil was occupied watching TV in the patient lounge later that day, I pulled Ruthie aside.

"Ruthie, what exactly is wrong with Phil?" I asked.

"Well," she began, trying to find words. "I wouldn't say there's anything wrong with him particularly, but he's been through a lot."

"Like what?"

"Apparently when he was eight years old his parents were brutally murdered in front of him. I guess he didn't know how to ring the police and so the bodies laid there for three whole days before the neighbours noticed there was something wrong. Then, Phil was transferred to the Child Study and Trauma Centre next door, so that if he wasn't stable by the time he turned 18, he could be brought here. He still suffers from really bad PTSD and flashbacks, but he's been doing better." I was in shock. I couldn't believe the amount of things he'd gone through at such a young age. My mind was racing trying to find something, anything to say.

"That's... terrible."

"Yeah. He actually had a friend or two here for a while, but I've kind of been his friend ever since." I thought about what Phil said about his best friend over and over into head. He said they had taken him downstairs. To sector 4. Could it have been....? No.

"Well, thanks, for answering my questions and all. I'm clearly new to this and need some information," I joked a bit. She laughed a little and then smiled at me as she re-entered the room where Phil was still watching Who Wants to be a Billionaire.

I sat down on a chair in the corner of the patient lounge, eyeing the dècor in the room. I scanned the walls and shelves, seeing only books and old magazines, until something caught my eye. I pulled myself out of the chair so I could walk over to the shelf and examine it. It was a small picture, maybe the size of a postcard, in a little frame with the words puffy painted at the bottom, Western State Boys 2009. I recognized Phil straight away. They were all wearing their patient uniforms, their nurses standing behind them, and were sat perfectly as though this was the picture that would change their lives. There were many other boys besides Phil. Fourteen, to be exact. There were a few sitting next to him in the front row, and a few standing behind him in the back. It looked like a relatively normal picture, until I noticed something else.

The boy to Phil's right, in the picture, looked familiar. The long curls covering his face a bit. But the eyes behind the curls looked different from everyone else. They looked dull, like there was nothing behind them. Psychotic, some might say.

And that was when I figured out exactly who it was.

"Nurse Coldwell," I heard the Madame speak behind me, "Mr. Howell is ready for his medications."

-unedited