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Authors: Rene Gutteridge
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don’t look fine. Your shirt is soaked.”
“Look, enough about me. You need to sit over there in that chair right now.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t question me!” I shouted. Rosemary sat down. I picked up the broken piece of plate from the table where I’d set it. “I’ll cut his throat. Don’t think I won’t.”
“He’s serious,” Abbott said, slicing his eyes to Rosemary. “Real serious.”
“That’s right,” I said, inwardly wishing Abbott wasn’t so calm and agreeable.
“I’m concerned about that puncture wound or whatever that is,” Rosemary said. “I think I should take a look.”
“Don’t get up out of that chair.” I walked closer to Abbott. “One move from you and he’s dead.”
Rosemary looked exhausted. “Mattie, right? That’s your name?”
“It’s Matthew. I prefer Matthew. But I want everyone in this room to call me Mattie because that’s helping my cause.”
“What is this about? Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s really none of your business. I just want you to sit there and shut up.” I paced, checking the pocket watch.
Abbott was grimacing again. Rosemary was watching him. Then she looked at me. “He needs his pain medication. He’s in a lot of pain.”
“I know that! I’m a nurse too!” I shouted.
I glanced at Abbott. He did look tortured. And I didn’t come here to torture. I was hurting too. The wound in my belly was starting to throb pretty badly. “Fine. Give him what he needs. But I am telling you, one false move and you’ll regret it. Do you understand me? And I don’t want him sleeping. I want him wide awake. You got it?”
I backed away from Abbott and watched Rosemary open the bag she’d brought in with her. She pulled out a medicine bottle, drew something—probably morphine—into a syringe, and put it in his IV. Almost immediately, Abbott seemed to relax.
Sure. Super. That’s what I wanted. Him all relaxed and comfortable before I killed him. That was going to make more of a statement.
“Better?” Rosemary asked Abbott, who nodded. His eyes fluttered, but he didn’t fall asleep.
I wished I didn’t have time to kill. I hated this. I was having to keep my eyes all crazy and my scowl on, just to keep Rosemary in line. Of the two of them, she seemed to be the one less affected by it and the least worthy of being terrorized. Plus, she was a nurse, so it was like we were kin.
“Well,” she said. “Let’s get some light in here, shall we?” She stood and zipped the curtains right open. The light flooded in, causing Abbott and me to squint. Outside, Mrs. Cavington was walking the other direction, her cane thumping steadily along with her.
I let my eyes adjust to the light. I realized I had only one more hour to enjoy beauty. I gazed out at all the trees and bushes and grass and the dimming blue sky. I’d never thought much about nature, but I thought I might actually miss it now. Rosemary sat on one side of the window, Abbott on the other, and I stood between them, looking through the glass at a bluebird.
“So,” Rosemary said, “is this some kind of nervous breakdown? Are you having a bad moment, Mattie? Because I don’t think you want to do this. You don’t seem like a cold-blooded killer.”
“Don’t I?” I gave her my harshest serial-killer glare.
“No,” she said plainly.
“Rosemary,” Abbott said, “just be quiet. Let the man be crazy if he wants.”
“He just doesn’t seem like a murderer.”
“I’m not,” I said, turning to her. “I’m actually quite a decent man, despite all that this guy put me through when we were kids.”
“What did he do to you?”
“The list is endless,” I said, “but to put it bluntly, he tormented me because I was fat.”
Rosemary leaned to the side, looking around me to Abbott. Her eyes scolded him. “Doesn’t surprise me. He’s come a long way in the last couple of months, coming to terms with all the things he’s done.”
“Yes, well, death can bring a
“Look, enough about me. You need to sit over there in that chair right now.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t question me!” I shouted. Rosemary sat down. I picked up the broken piece of plate from the table where I’d set it. “I’ll cut his throat. Don’t think I won’t.”
“He’s serious,” Abbott said, slicing his eyes to Rosemary. “Real serious.”
“That’s right,” I said, inwardly wishing Abbott wasn’t so calm and agreeable.
“I’m concerned about that puncture wound or whatever that is,” Rosemary said. “I think I should take a look.”
“Don’t get up out of that chair.” I walked closer to Abbott. “One move from you and he’s dead.”
Rosemary looked exhausted. “Mattie, right? That’s your name?”
“It’s Matthew. I prefer Matthew. But I want everyone in this room to call me Mattie because that’s helping my cause.”
“What is this about? Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s really none of your business. I just want you to sit there and shut up.” I paced, checking the pocket watch.
Abbott was grimacing again. Rosemary was watching him. Then she looked at me. “He needs his pain medication. He’s in a lot of pain.”
“I know that! I’m a nurse too!” I shouted.
I glanced at Abbott. He did look tortured. And I didn’t come here to torture. I was hurting too. The wound in my belly was starting to throb pretty badly. “Fine. Give him what he needs. But I am telling you, one false move and you’ll regret it. Do you understand me? And I don’t want him sleeping. I want him wide awake. You got it?”
I backed away from Abbott and watched Rosemary open the bag she’d brought in with her. She pulled out a medicine bottle, drew something—probably morphine—into a syringe, and put it in his IV. Almost immediately, Abbott seemed to relax.
Sure. Super. That’s what I wanted. Him all relaxed and comfortable before I killed him. That was going to make more of a statement.
“Better?” Rosemary asked Abbott, who nodded. His eyes fluttered, but he didn’t fall asleep.
I wished I didn’t have time to kill. I hated this. I was having to keep my eyes all crazy and my scowl on, just to keep Rosemary in line. Of the two of them, she seemed to be the one less affected by it and the least worthy of being terrorized. Plus, she was a nurse, so it was like we were kin.
“Well,” she said. “Let’s get some light in here, shall we?” She stood and zipped the curtains right open. The light flooded in, causing Abbott and me to squint. Outside, Mrs. Cavington was walking the other direction, her cane thumping steadily along with her.
I let my eyes adjust to the light. I realized I had only one more hour to enjoy beauty. I gazed out at all the trees and bushes and grass and the dimming blue sky. I’d never thought much about nature, but I thought I might actually miss it now. Rosemary sat on one side of the window, Abbott on the other, and I stood between them, looking through the glass at a bluebird.
“So,” Rosemary said, “is this some kind of nervous breakdown? Are you having a bad moment, Mattie? Because I don’t think you want to do this. You don’t seem like a cold-blooded killer.”
“Don’t I?” I gave her my harshest serial-killer glare.
“No,” she said plainly.
“Rosemary,” Abbott said, “just be quiet. Let the man be crazy if he wants.”
“He just doesn’t seem like a murderer.”
“I’m not,” I said, turning to her. “I’m actually quite a decent man, despite all that this guy put me through when we were kids.”
“What did he do to you?”
“The list is endless,” I said, “but to put it bluntly, he tormented me because I was fat.”
Rosemary leaned to the side, looking around me to Abbott. Her eyes scolded him. “Doesn’t surprise me. He’s come a long way in the last couple of months, coming to terms with all the things he’s done.”
“Yes, well, death can bring a
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