Read Online The Painting by Ryan Casey - Free Book Online Page B

“I understand how hard it must be to—”
    “You’ve no idea how hard it must be,” Reginald shouted. “You—you’ve no idea. You’ve had it easy. You’ve no idea at all how bad it hurts.” He lunged for Donny, who backed up to the kitchen wall, missing his face with the cloth by a matter of inches.
    But he had him where he wanted him, against a wall, cornered. Donny grabbed Reginald’s arm as he tried to force the cloth further into his face, baring his teeth, the vein in his head almost bursting with tension.
    “Reginald, you don’t have to do this. I have a girlfriend too. I have a home and I’m… I’m just like you. I’ve just—I’ve just fallen into this place by accident and—” The cloth edged further towards his mouth. He could smell the medicinal tang as it waved in his face. “And all I’m asking for—please—is your help. Please.”
    Reginald kept on pushing and Donny held his ground, their arms shaking like opposite sides of magnets battling one another. Reginald’s eyes were bloodshot and wild as he salivated like a rabid dog. This could not be happening. This could not be fucking happening. Sara, the book… the book didn’t matter. He just wanted to get home. He’d get any job or career she wanted him to. He just wanted to be with her again. He just wanted to get out.
    Reginald let out a cry and fell to his knees. The chloroform cloth dropped beside him as he curled his head into his hands.
    Donny remained pinned to the wall. He thought about reaching down for Reginald—patting him on the back and telling him it was going to be okay—but he had no idea what frame of mind the man was in. Instead, he shifted slowly from the wall and stepped on the cloth of chloroform, making sure it was out of Reginald’s reach.
    After what felt like hours in silence, Reginald spoke.
    “I just want her back,” he said, sniffing and sobbing into his hands. “I—I just want her back.”
    Donny swallowed the lump in his throat and reached down for Reginald. He patted him on the back, which made him flinch initially, but soon he let him rest his hand there. “I know,” he said. “I know. I want the same as you. I just want my Sara back, and… and I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through but you’re the only one who can help me. But we… we don’t have to rush. We can—we can wait here for however long you need.”
    Reginald sniffed and tapped his forehead against the floor as Donny patted his back, the roughness of his jumper tickling his hand.
    Above the fireplace, a picture of a smiling Reginald squeezed up to Manny Bates, wrapped up in warm clothing on a mountaintop, stared down at them.

    “So you’ll help me then?”
    Reginald sat on the chair opposite Donny, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Donny could see that he was struggling; battling with his conscience and motives. But he’d managed to get him in the chair. He’d managed to comfort him and get him in the chair. That was something.
    “It’s not easy,” Reginald said, reluctance in his voice.
    “I… I get that. And I do appreciate your reasons for not wanting to help, I really do. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me so far. But please—I just need to know what I have to do. You don’t have to come with me. You just have to tell me what I have to do next.”
    Reginald scoffed. “If I don’t come with you, the second they see you’re not chipped, you’re in line for a public execution.” He shook his head and slumped back. “This house,” he said. “This house you went to—the house my wife was staying in. You mentioned a painting. What was on that painting?”
    Donny squeezed his eyelids together and pictured it. The painting seemed so long ago but it was just as clear as ever in his mind’s eye. “There were six trees, aut—”
    “What sort of trees?”
    “Um, oak, I guess.”
    “Are you absolutely sure they were oak trees and there were six of them?”
    “Does it