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A Whisper" --Sequel to "Patrick" & "Lil Red Shoe
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A Whisper" --Sequel to "Patrick" & "Lil Red Shoe |
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jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA 
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If you are planning on reading this then I suggest you read "Little Red Shoes" the "Patrick" beforehand b/c you will not understand this chapter. Just do a search of all my posts and you will quickly find the first two chapters. I thank you for picking this to read. ____________________________________________________ There she sat, staring, never looking to the right or to the left, but eyes transfixed on him. She had worked up all the nerve she could muster, to walk into his room, room 317, the room that had so traumatically changed her life. She had pulled the chair she was sitting in to be perpendicular with the foot of the bed. There is where she took her seat, facing the man that was responsible for the aforementioned change. Looking, studying, every crevice, every scar, every inch of his face, she couldn’t deny the resemblance. “Yes, the eyes...very similar,” she thought to herself. As she studied the picture of Patrick in her hand and then our mystery man’s face, she whispered, “He and Patrick had the same eyes.” She dared not, to look around the room in fear that all the emotions from that one horrible day would completely overcome her and she would not be able to accomplish what she had gone there for. She had with her the picture of Patrick, a notepad, a pen, and the mystery man’s belongings, which included the little red shoe. She had set them on the floor beside her when she sat down. It was around 6:00 am when she entered the room that morning. By noon he was still asleep. The affects of his meds had yet to wear off. There she was, six hours later, still sitting in her specially positioned chair. The longer she sat there the more and more she noticed. For instance, she noticed the hairline scar that ran from his left ear to right below his right ear lobe and she couldn’t help but wonder how that had happened. Or how skinny and frail that bear of a man had become upon his arrival to the unit. He had been on two weeks of IV’s and meds that kept him pretty incoherent b/c of the fear. Before the dreadful day Patrick died, he had been in a coma for four weeks. So six weeks of no food nor exercise and our mystery man was looking quite feeble. Other things she noticed was the constant quivering of his right biceps, or how his nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken one too many times. Or how the sheets rose and fell with every breath he took. Which began to cause her to feel drowsy. Slowly she began to fade. Her eyesight became blurry. She furiously shook herself to try to wake herself up, but slowly she began to lean forward, head bobbing up and down as she tried in vain to fight of the slumber that was overpowering her. Finally, her head fell back and she was fast asleep. She woke up with a jerk and noticed the room was considerably darker than before. She looked down at her watch, 6:00pm. She stretched, yawned, and then glanced towards the bed. There were those eyes. So piercing she was startled. He didn’t make a sound. She had been the one studying at first, but at that point and time she realized the tables had been turned and she was the one under the observation of the telescope. So there they sat, looking, studying, and staring right into the other’s eyes. No words were said, just stares. Donna had the strangest feeling of peace come over her. She felt weird. She thought she would have been terrified but she wasn’t. She thought she would see pure evil in his eyes. She saw total peace, like she had never seen before. She could see she had judged wrong. Those eyes...those eyes...they were like razors though, just cutting right through her, as if he was peering into her very soul. She finally had to look away. She couldn’t handle his gaze any longer than she did. She finally broke the silence. “Can you hear me?” He just continued to stare, no emotion, no change of expression, just stone. Again she asked the question, “Sir, can you hear me?” Again, no response, just stone. She tried to gather her thoughts. So she grabbed the notepad and pen that lay at her feet. She scribbled a note on it and held it up for him to see. “Can you talk?” is what he read. Again, nothing but that hard stare. Donna began to get flustered. She scribbled something else on the pad and held it up for him to read. His mind was just racing ninety miles a minute. He had always been that way though. Could make quick decisions and read people immediately. He had always had some kind of...insight. He just knew. “What a beautiful woman,” he thought. “What does she want? If she wanted to kill me she could have done it by now, for sure. What does she know?” He wasn’t even looking at the notepad she was holding up for him. He was looking at her eyes, studying more. Donna was getting pretty agitated then by what she was considering, “ a lack of cooperation.” She got up and shoved the notepad in his face. He finally took his eyes off of her and looked at the pad. “ARE YOU AND PATRICK BROTHERS?” was printed in all capital letters. He had completely forgotten the day that Patrick died, because of all the meds he was given. He just looked at her with a completely puzzled look on his face. Donna was furious at that. She grabbed the picture of Patrick and shoved it our mystery man’s face. His expression changed to one of shock. Donna thought to herself, “Knew that would get your attention.” He stared so intensely at the picture, it was as if he were trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. After an extended of period of time with no movement nor words between the two of them, he finally snapped his head up and looked her squarely in the eyes. He whispered, “Are you one of them?” Donna was completely shaken by those five little words. She felt her knees get week and her stomach began to turn. She had to grab onto the handrail of the bed. When she went to do that, she grasped his hand instead, which was still bound by the restraints. That little brush startled her even more that she fell back against the wall. Our mystery man never took his eyes from hers. Gaze still stern as ever. He couldn’t figure out what was with her. Donna finally welled up the courage to ask him, “Who?” Our mystery man’s hearing was slightly better, but still muffled. All the events that had transpired to bring him to the unpleasant situation that he was in were all jumbled up in his mind. He still could see those eyes and hear those shrills very clearly though. So when she asked him “Who”, he heard it as a whisper. He answered her, “Why are you whispering?” as he began to get agitated. His eyes started shifting around the room and Donna could see him beginning to tense up. “Why are you whispering?” he said a little louder and a little more forceful. “Are they here? Are you one of them?” he began shouting. His temperament had totally changed. He had immediately gone from calm and peaceful to irate and crazed. He was jerking at his restraints and began screaming to free him. Tears began to run down his cheeks. His heart monitor began beeping so fast and loud that it agitated him even more. “What is that beeping? Are they coming? For the love of God, please free me. Don’t let them get me? Donna, fearing that the doctors would sedate him again, rushed to him and grabbed his arm. She couldn’t let him go that easy. She needed answers and this man was the only one that could give them to her. He was jerking and pulling, attempting to free himself from his restraints. She finally got his attention by slapping him across the face. He immediately made eye contact with her. What she saw made every fiber in her body tremble. The peaceful gaze, that had penetrated her earlier, was now a crazed, animal cornered about to pounce, look. The same look in Patrick’s eyes as he was dying. Our mystery man said through gritted teeth, in more like a growl than speech, “What have you done with him?” “With who?” asked Donna. “The guy in the picture. What have you done to him?” replied our mystery man. “Nothing”, answered Donna. “How do you know him? How do you know our connections? Who are you with? Where did you get that picture? And why are you whispering?” asked our mystery man as he began to grow irate again but worse. Donna had to react quickly. If she didn’t get him completely calmed and fast, the nurses would be alerted, the doctors would burst in and sedate him again and she just couldn’t lose him as fast as she had gained him. She knew if he would be sedated, it would have been for indefinite period of time. Plus she knew that she would probably be denied access to our mystery man again. She quickly lent to his ear and said, “Patrick’s dead!” Our mystery man immediately sobered up. He looked right into her eyes and made no sound. Those eyes again, just staring. Yet, that time without peace, without craze, but with hate. Donna jumped at the chance to continue. “Look, no one is whispering. Your eardrums were severely ruptured, which caused temporary hearing loss. Your hearing is just now coming back, but everything sounds muffled and it sounds to you like I am whispering. Just calm down and we’ll work this out together. You have many questions, as do I. We can only help one another though if you stay calm. You can’t afford, nor I, to have yourself sedated. The rest of the faculty here thinks you are dangerous and are basically afraid of you. You need my help.” Our mystery man just lay there with no expression, but stone faced. Every word she said running through his head though. Controlled rage coursing through his veins with every beat of his heart. All he could see was Patrick’s face. He couldn’t let her know anything just yet. “If she is the one who killed Patty boy, then she will regret the day she was ever born. For now though, I think I could use her.” Were the thoughts running through his mind. Donna’s head was spinning from all the emotions that had been emitted from just one man in such a short period of time. Peace, then fear, then hate, then rage. She could feel every single one as if they were each a slap in the face. It was as if they were swimming in the air all around her. She already felt drained. After sitting for a while composing her thoughts and her own emotions, she finally leaned in to his ear. “Who is ‘them’?” [This message has been edited by jfreak (edited 07-27-2000).] |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
If this were a book, I'd turn quickly to the next chapter. But since it's not, I have to wait for YOU to finish it. Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet? |
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jfreak Member
since 1999-06-17
Posts 306Yuma, AZ, USA |
So sorry devine, but it is a slow moving process. I take it you liked it though. What did you think about this third chapter? Does it do the first two justice? Just wondering if I am continuing on with the success of the first two. J~ |
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Erin Member Elite
since 2000-06-15
Posts 2527~Chicago~ |
jfreak~~~what are you doing??? why are you keeping us in suspense??? come on...i was getting all into it and the it ended...im looking forward to the next part... |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Hello jfreak, thank you for posting your story here! As an added note, you might think of replying to some of the other posts in here if you're interested in drawing more attention to your piece!  Christopehr Now with the wisdom of years I try to reason things out And the only people I fear Are those who never have doubt. -Billy Joel |
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