Glen

Chapter 13

It turns out I was moved to the ICU. I had gone into cardiac arrest during another surgery to try and remove more of the tumor. I was lucky to be alive, they said. I wasn't really sure that I agreed.

I didn't see Dr. Cody for weeks. It was too risky to have visitors, the doctor told me. The stress could send me reeling, again.

When they were sure that I was stable, I was moved into a room closer to the nurse's station, so I could be monitored. Dr. Cody arrived a few days later but refused to pressure me. The look on his face told me my odds were pretty bad.

I grinned, tiredly. "Don't look at me like that, Doc. I'm not dead, just yet."

He smiled. "That's very true, but I worry about your state. I didn't think your health would deteriorate so rapidly."

"It is what it is, I guess," I shrugged. "Dr. Vaidya said that the cancer has metastasized. Ain't that the way?"

Cody blanched, but said nothing. He reached into his bag and pulled out a chess set. He sat it on the bedside food table and pulled it over my lap.

"How about we just take it easy on you and play a few games of chess, today?"

I sighed. "Doc, are you sure you're willing to take that chance? It's not going for well for me, of late."

"You let me worry about that. We have time. I know we do."

After Doc Cody left, it occurred to me that I had never even touched my dream journal and, were something to happen, I needed to make sure he had the information he needed. I pulled out a pen and got to work.

I wrote for hours, categorizing and describing each dream in explicit detail. I sketched what I saw on some of the pages. I wanted him to know and see what I experienced.

I drew the monsters in their various states of decay. I described what they sounded like and the colors and smells and sensations in the greatest amount of detail that I could. I indicated when my Hell corresponded with things going on outside my head.

I scrawled down my ordeal, feverishly. As I shared my nightmares, I started to feel a sense of relief. It was like some of the pressure on my brain dissolved and spared me some of my suffering.

When, at last, I laid my pencil to rest, I smiled. It lay beside my journal, a misshapen stump, destroyed by my picking for the lack of a sharpener. I flipped on my TV and dozed, lightly.

As the days rolled on, I could feel myself fading away. It was, to my surprise, kind of peaceful. It had been some time since I was dragged into my terror. Cody kept postponing our story time and it was making me anxious. I didn't want to die before I told it all. When Cody felt that I was as good as I was going to get, health-wise, he agreed to continue.

"Where was I?"

Cody checked his notes. "You had just turn yourself in and confessed to the murders."

I nodded.

Well, Galves read me my rights and booked me. My bail was absurd, not that I would have bailed myself out, although it did cross my mind. I started to wonder if I had made a mistake.

"Because you killed Scotty?" Cody asked.

"Easy, Doc! You made me wait, now it's your turn to be patient."

I request a court-appointed lawyer, knowing full well that no one would want to defend me. Hell, I didn't even want to be defended. I knew that it was time to pay the piper. It would be worth a chuckle, though.