Ch 23 This Prison Called Fate Read Count : 106

Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Romance

Author's notes :

Hands down one of my favourite chapters so far! 


Chapter 23

          Chris clenched his fists and in a fit of anger, his right fist met the pearly white wall. His punch didn’t do much damage to the concrete wall but his knuckles hurt like hell, the flesh of his knuckles and joints has peeled off and blood was tickling down from the broken skin. 

          The door flung opened and Oliver rushed in. He looked clearly unimpressed with the sight that greeted him. He left Chris alone for a minute and the next thing hears is a loud bang. His first concern was his patient, and when he observed that nothing was physically wrong with her, that she was still sleeping peacefully, he looked at Chris next. He saw the blood stained wall and Chris’s bruised hand, he didn't need to ask to imagine what had just happened.

          Chris spoke up before Oliver could say anything, “I didn’t plan to hit the wall.” He knew that he did not sound the least bit convincing but he didn't care. 

          Oliver frowned as he saw Chris squeeze his own right hand to add pain to the injury.

         “Let me look at the wound, I’ll treat it for you.” Oliver offered.

         Oliver saw the hand Chris had on his wounded hand pressed down harder as the boy said, "My hand doesn’t hurt.” He concluded that Chris clearly wasn't in the right state of mind. 

          Knowing Chris wouldn't listen to him, Oliver sighed before backing down, not wanting to alarm the clearly not thinking straight boy, “Go home for today, Chris. You know nothing good will come out of this.” Oliver directed. He had hoped that sending the boy home was the right choice, he really didn't want to have to send Chris to the mental ward. He knows that Chris's actions was one of in the heat of the moment. Chris needs to cool his head. And if Chris didn't want to get his hand treated, Oliver was in no place to interfere. 

          Chris obediently walked out of the room without any form of resistance. He had his head hung low like a dejected puppy. As he paced the corridors, Chris was sure curious eyes landed on him, some even weirdly, as he walked passed tons of patients and visitors and even some children ran away after seeing him, but he couldn't bring himself to care and lifelessly walked out of the hospital. He looked around to see that Greg wasn’t there and descended the stairs. The trobbing pain stemming from his right hand was making him regret his earlier actions, but he honestly felt so much better after hitting the wall. His frustration built up to a point where he just couldn’t hold it in and punched the wall. 

         He lifted his injured hand to his face, finally taking a close and detailed look at his bruised hand and made the decision to re-enter the hospital. He went into the bathroom and ran water over his wounded hand, Chris winced in pain as the opened skin stung at the contact of cold water. After washing away the blood, his hand looked more normal and not horrible.

          Chris then exited the hospital, making sure to push his hands deep into his pants pocket as he walked back. 

          Chris crashed on the bed the moment he entered the dorm, tired but the pain from his hand preventing him from falling asleep. He wearily got up from the comfort of his bed and dragged his deadweight of a body over to the study table, he pulled open the bottom drawer and pulled out a bag. Opening up the severely crinkled plastic bag, he retrieve a small bottle of antiseptic ointment, pouring some on a cotton pad, he started tending to his wounded hand. He even poured some of the leftover medicine given by Oliver for his cheek the last time over his hand. 

          The ointment easing the pain to a much bearable state, Chris crashed back down on his bed. He drifted in and out of sleep as his stressed mind wouldn't let him sleep. Every time he thought of his mother, he thought of his father and he would wake up. 

         Chris wasn't sure how many hours passed but his eyes suddenly flung open and he jumped out of his bed, he grabbed his beg and dashed out of his room, almost forgetting to lock the door.

          He had suddenly remembered the promise he made with Bea to meet up after school to study together. Chris ran in the direction of the library, he was panting when he reached the library. He hoped he was not too late. He stared at the big clock in the library, it was almost 3, a whole hour after the last school bell.

          Chris panicked a little when he scanned through all of the seats in the library and Bea was nowhere in sight. Holding onto a very thin thread of hope, he started checking in between the masses of shelves. He almost cried in relief when he found her sitting on the floor at the far end of the room, in between one of the shelves. 

          “I thought you wouldn’t come.” Bea said, lifting her head to acknowledge him. 

          A relaxed smile adorned Chris's face and he walked up to her, apologising, “I’m sorry I was late, I was caught up with something.”

          He sat down besides her.

          Being the ever observant person she is, Bea immediately noticed his wounded hand. “What happened to your hand?” She asked, frowning in concern. 

          Only then did Chris remember the pain in his right hand. He was so relief to see Bea that he had forgotten to hide his injury. 

          "I punched the wall of the hospital room." Chris explained, laughing. Trying to put it off as a joke. 

          But Bea was having none of it. The frown on her face only deepened and an even complexed look adorned her features, "Why?" She asked. 

          Chris let out a heavy sigh, not knowing where to start, he ended up asking, “What were your parents like when they were still alive?” 

          “Loving, caring and amazing individuals.” Bea answered, not a glint of hesitation in her voice. 

          “I'm jealous.” Chris told her, frankly. 

          “I have nothing for you to be jealous over. My parents are dead. I have no family.”

          “I understand.” 

          “How could you possibly understand?” Bea almost laughed. 

          “My mother is in a coma and my father left when I was only 10. I, at least understand the loneliness.” 

          If Chris were looking at Bea, he would have noticed the shock expression that flashed across her face for a split second before changing into one that was unreadable. But he merely carried on looking ahead into the distance, saying, "That scumbag of a human suddenly turned up after all these years and in a fit of anger, I punched the wall in the hospital room just earlier.”

          Chris turned to look at her, asking, “Are you afraid of me?” He would hate himself if he scared Bea off, only realising just earlier the lack of control he had over his anger. Even he was starting to grow afraid of himself. He hit the wall this time, what would he do next? 

          Bea shook her head, denying, before offering him a warm smile. “At least you didn't murder someone."

          Chris couldn't help but smile at her response. "Do I look like a murderer? " 

          "I was just expecting the worst." She answered seriously. 

          Chris laughed. 

          "Honestly, I would have done the same if I was in your position." Bea confessed. 

           "You would?" 

           "If my father ever left me and suddenly wanted back into my life, I would have to punch my father, instead of the wall." Bea explained. 

          And Chris wanted to cry. He really did. Because he was extremely touched. Touched at the fact that for the first time in his entire life, he felt as though someone understands. Chris had to push down the strong urge to pull Bea in a tight embrace there and then. 

          “You’re probably the only one that walks out of a hospital injured.” Bea carried on saying, jokingly. 

          “Haha, you’re right.” Chris was glad that Bea didn’t ask about his past. Not because he didn’t want to tell her but because he wouldn’t know what to say.

          The rest of the day was spent with Chris revising his studies next to Bea. Occasionally, when Chris had a question, he was able to ask Bea and he found the additional help very useful. After a while of sitting on the carpeted floor, his body started to go stiff. Not being able to stand it any longer, he jumped up. 

          “How are you able to sit in that one position for such a long time?” Chris asked Bea as he stood up, stretching. 

          “I guess I’m used to it? I don’t find it uncomfortable at all. ” Bea looked up at Chris.

          Chris walked out from the book shelve and looked around the library, there weren’t any people left, except for them and the librarian. Chris looked at the time in the library. It was already 6. 

          Chris turned his neck to see Bea. She was still very much engrossed in the book she was reading. He had thought that he would be able to uncover her secret to being first in the entire school but in the past few hours he had spent with her, it seems like the only thing she does is read fast.

          This was the first time Chris found someone reading a book so interesting. In fact, now that he no longer has the objective of getting her to join the event, why is he still spending time with her? Chris wondered to himself, arms crossed, he leaned against the book shelve, watching the librarian pick up a phone call. 

          It’s no secret that the original reason why he approached her was to convince her to participate in the event. So, why was he so adamant about wanting to spend time with her. Is it because of pity? That she has no friends or family? Does he want to be her friend? Chris leisurely asked himself, he saw the librarian moving her free hand animatedly in the air while she talked into the phone, his mind lost in his thoughts. 

          When the librarian put down the phone, a sudden realisation hit Chris and he could feel his entire face burn up. The realisation of his feelings hitting him right in his face like a truck.

          He heard the shuffling of feet and Chris turned just in time to see Bea standing up. He watched as she placed the book back into the shelve.

          “Y-You’re done?” Chris asked nervously, willing himself to calm down. 

          “It’s getting late and I have a part time job to get to.” Bea told him.

          “I’m actually looking for a job…...” Chris blurted out. He just found out that his father has been footing his mother’s hospital bills, he didn’t want to depend on his father anymore. He dared not imagine what else his father has been paying for. If he could find a job, he would at least be able to pay for his own expenses.

          Chris certainly didn't expect Bea's eyes to suddenly lit up, she excitingly ran up to him, “You’re willing to work?!” She asked, her eyes glistening with anticipation. 

          “Y-Yeah. I’m very short of cash right now.” Chris has worked several jobs before but he hasn’t been able to find one since he moved and he has almost used up his savings.

          “Perfect! Mrs. Helda would be happy to hear that.” Bea clapped her hands in satisfaction. 

          And if Chris hasn't fully established the bubbling feeling he has been experiencing ever since he met Bea, he understood clearly now when his left hand was suddenly grabbed by the wrist and one moment they were walking out of the library, the next they were walking out of the school, passing houses and walking down streets, and Chris was pretty sure they were much more interesting things happening on in the surroundings and he knows that he should at least be memorising the directions but all he could focus on was the hand grabbing onto his. 

          When Bea let go of his hand so suddenly, Chris almost whined out loud at the lost of warmth, missing her touch already, “The place I work at is just down this alley.” Bea said, pointed in the direction of an alley.

          Honestly, Chris has already lost count of the amount of alleys they have walked in. Wherever Bea was taking him is certainly secluded in the middle of nowhere. It was completely unfamiliar grounds for him. 

          Chris followed until Bea stopped right in front of a lited house, one that looks more like a hut than a house. When they arrived at the destination. “You work here?” Chris asked, pointing at the shop house. 

          And his spirit was lifted by the way Bea nodded enthusiastically. Chris had thought that nothing could excite Bea more than the literature world but at least she seems enthusiastic about her job.

          “Mrs. Helda is a retired kindergarden teacher. She has turned her house into a mini library for kids.” Bea explained. Explains the unorthodox fahsion of a workplace. 

          Crap! He probably should have asked Bea first what her job is. He doesn’t do so well with kids.

          “Do you not want this job?” Bea asked, a worried expression on her face. 

          “I’ll do it!” He has come so far, it’s too late to turn back now. Plus, he was desperately short on cash right now.

          "I assure you Mrs. Helda is one of the loveliest people you will know." Bea started complimenting her boss, pressing the doorbell. 

          Chris wanted to tell her that his new boss was the least of his worries when he heard the pitter patter of footsteps and a domesticated carnivorous mammal came running out, barking loudly at them. 

           The golden brown toy poodle came running out the moment the gate opened. It barked sharply at Chris, while circling Chris, but not daring to touch him. Bea merely bend down to give the poodle a pat. 

          When Chris reached down to pat the dog, it ran away instead, hiding behind Bea. 

          “He’s just shy, don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you eventually.” Bea said as she picked the dog up in her arms and cuddled with it.

          Chris picked the collar around the dog. “Luffy.” Chris read out loud. The dog immediately turned to look at Chris. The dog recognises his name.

          “You’re a bright boy.” Chris complimented the dog. Patting him on its head and the dog wagged his tail in delight. 

          “Is that you Bea?” A lady in her 50ies walked out the door to greet them. The dog jumped out of Bea’s arms and ran to the lady’s side.

          “Mrs. Helda, I brought someone from my school who is interested in working here.”

          “That’s lovely! We certainly need more staff.” The lady walked up to Chris and started inspecting him. She looked him up and down before nodding her head in agreement.

          “How many staff are there?” Chris asked, he wanted to know, if he gets the job, the likes of who he would be working with. 

          “I’m the only one.” Bea answered.

          “Huh?!” Chris asked, surprised. 

          “You don’t have to worry boy. I assure you I run a legit business.” Mrs. Helda told him. She was certainly energetic for someone her age.

         “Then, why is Bea the only worker?”

          “I just don’t get it, the sign I put up doesn’t seem to be working.”

          “Where is the sign?” Chris asked, out of curiosity.

          “Over there.” The owner pointed towards a tree next to the house. Chris leaned his head to look at the direction she was pointing at. He could barely make out the flyer that was stuck on the tree.

          No wonder they have no one applying for the job, Chris thought to himself. The flyer was flimsily stuck onto the trunk with a nail, it looks to be falling out any moment a strong breeze hits, not to mention, the shop is located in a secluded area in an unknown town.

           “Are you guys seriously low on workers? That one flyer won’t help much.” Chris brutally spoke the truth.

          “I’m glad you think that way! So boy, your first job is to distribute flyers around town. Spread the word!” The owner shoved a paper bag filled with flyers.

          “I’m hired?!” Chris asked in disbelief. No interview? No standard procedures?

          Mrs. Helda crossed her arms, smiling, she stared down at Chris's legs saying, “As long as Luffy likes you, there’s no problem.” Only then did Chris feel the foreign feeling grazing his right leg, Chris followed her gaze downwards to see the poodle snuggling at his leg. 

          “Plus, if you are recommended by Bea, I’m sure I can trust you.” Mrs Helda said as she grabbed them both each by the hand and pulled them in the house.


All Rights Reserved @ 2018 by Anne Teng


Author's notes :

Thank you so much for reading! I greatly appreciate it! Leave a comment to let me know that you made it to the end. 

Comments

  • Jul 12, 2018

  • l love it

    Jul 13, 2018

Log Out?

Are you sure you want to log out?