The Walls Have Ears

Hidden Chapter

Cillians POV

Agonizing pain surges through every part of my body, elevating at every beat of my still not dead heart.

My head is full of cotton wool yet feels so heavy, as do my eyelids, which I can barely open a fraction.

After what could've been 30 minutes or thirty days, I regain the slightest feeling of my fingers. Slowly then my arm, which hurts like a motherfucker.

I try moving it but scream out in pain, It's broken.

As well as my thighbone on my left leg and my lower foot on my right. My left shoulder doesn't feel right either.

I'm able to squint my eyes open a bit, noticing I'm laying in a pool of my own sweet red blood.

In direct response I vomit, not able to move my head.

I close my eyes and continue to cry. Half from the pain half from realizing what I'd just tried, and failed, to do.

Your POV

I'm going to be late.

I rush, speed walking and half running trying to keep my bag on my back and my project in my arm.

It's been a good three months of adjusting back to a life I took for granted. Sometimes I wonder if that's what Dr Murphy stood for all together. Then I tell myself to stop wondering.

My family had told me they were worried sick, the whole ending up in Ukraine was never mentioned, in fact once the police stopped mentioning it so did I.

I check my watch and I've got a good six minutes to make it.

I continue to half walk half hopscotch as fast as I can.

Occasionally, I will miss Gerard incredibly. I'll sit and think about him till I cry. Which is hard to explain to people so I just say it's hormones.

The thought sometimes creeps into my mind, that what if it never actually happened? And I just imagined all of-

Man.

I stop and time seems to stop with me.

Theres a man laying on the sidewalk. Not sleeping. Not homeless.

Mangled.

His body seems splayed out on the concrete like he was thrown on there like a rag doll. Some of his bones aren't bending the right way.

His face is turned away from me but I wouldn't need a detective to tell me exactly who that bloody crumpled mess of a man was.

I'd recognise that coat anywhere.

I suddenly realise nobody is on the street except for the both of us after shaking my head and rubbing my eyes multiple times to make sure I wasn't imagining this.

He's dead. He has to be.

But I see his chest rising and falling in crooked intervals.

With no hesitation I drop everything in my arms, my school project smashing and scattering in the middle of the road.

When I get closer I find myself crying at such a horrible and raw scene.

"...Doctor ?" I croak out, barley managing to get a word out through the lump in my throat.

His eyes flutter and I laugh out loud.

"Doctor!" I collapse onto the floor beside him, my jeans soaking up the nasty mix of blood and vomit on the floor.

I pull away the hair stuck to his face with dried blood.

He croaks out something inaudible and I'm snapped back to reality.

I rush over to my bag and pull out my phone, calling for 911.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

The doctor was being put up into the ambulance on a gourney, the puddle of way too much lost blood missing him. The police asked me questions to which I mentioned nothing of knowing who he was or where he came from, all the while not once taking my eyes off of him. The fact he survived whatever happened to him was a miracle. I watch as his eyes open fully and lock onto mine. I freeze. And so does everything else.

The trees stop swaying with the wind, the police officers seem frozen in one second that's been stretched out into forever. A cat who had been rummaging through trash for food stops mid leap, destined to the floor.

I look around in disbelief, and my eyes land back on Dr Murphy, Who is now getting out of the gourney. Seemingly fine, he gets out with ease and prestige: an actor walking off his stage.

He walks straight over to me. Dodging the arm of a police officer suspended in mid air. His disfigured limbs seem perfectly fine and functional. No bends where the shouldn't be. Just a doctor covered in blood making his way towards me. A horrifying scenario really. He reaches me and lifts my hand with one arm and places something in my hand with the other. He closes my fist around it and squeezes. Then stares at me for what can only be an eternity. I start to cry not realizing it, a tear streaming down my cheek and landing on his hand covering my balled fist. His eyes start to go glossy aswell. But he doesn't let himself. He leans over and kisses the top of my head. We stand facing eachother in a frozen street, city, maybe even world. His slight and crooked smile never before as creepy as this.

And he takes off running.

An out of place action around such a still scene, attracting all the attention to his grand escape. He disappears around the corner of the building and all is still once more. Everything except my thoughts. I look again around me. How do we get things back?

I open my fist and find a small white marble cube.

When I look up everything is moving again.