FicWad

The room was a small waiting room designed for doctors to meet with a seriously ill patient’s family, or somewhere the recently bereaved could sit quietly, perhaps make a few phone calls. Even for a hospital, the room was clinical, with no attempt made to make it homely, but then, people barely even registered the room when it was being used for its main purpose. For that reason and to prevent the possibility of people venting their anger on the decor, it was kept simple. It housed a large couch, a chair, a small table and little else. Never intended for storage, it was all the room needed. After the barely audible groan Matthew had emitted while in Joe’s room, he had soon slipped back into unconsciousness, during which time two orderlies had had carried him to the waiting room, placing him on the couch. As soon as they had left and feeling much less charitable towards the man who had tried to kill them all, Andy rolled Matthew from the comfortable perch and allowed him to drop to the floor with what he imagined was a painful thud. Now, as Andy rechecked his bonds, Matthew began to groan again. Taking a seat opposite, Andy stared harshly and unblinking at Matthew. restraining himself from exacting some revenge. Finally waiting became too frustrating for him.

“Okay,” he began in an almost non-threatening tone. “I believe you’re awake. If you are, you damn well better open your eyes now. If you’re not, I’m going to kick you, repeatedly, slowly and painfully all round this room until you are. Got it?”

No reply from the bound man lying on the floor brought a thin smile to Andy’s lips as he pushed himself from the chair. At the sound of the chair legs scraping along the floor as Andy shoved it backwards in his anger, Matthew’s eyes flew open.

“I’m awake! I’m awake!” he cried as he saw Andy poised to deliver the first blow.
“Too late!”

Burying his right foot in Matthew’s abdomen, Andy’s face was a mask of hatred as he grimaced in angry satisfaction at the gasping and wheezing sounds that followed.

“We didn’t see that,” Stokes announced as he pushed the door wide, with Bramall walking briskly past to pull Andy away from Matthew, now struggling to breathe.
“You want me to do it again?” Andy raised an eyebrow. “I got plenty more of those.”
Stokes smiled his sympathies but shook his head. “Not unless you want to be charged with assault.”
“It was self defence,” Andy shrugged nonchalantly. “He attacked me.”
“Oh, I have no doubt that’s exactly what happened,” Stokes replied in a tone that actually suggested that he believed him.
“I’m tied up!” Matthew complained from his position on the floor. “How could I have attacked him?”
“So,” Stokes continued, ignoring the question, “you’re Matthew Stumph? You made a lot of mistakes Matthew,” he added almost conversationally.
“One or two,” Matthew scowled. Turning to glance at Andy, he flashed a cruel smirk. “But I reckon it would have worked if I’d made sure Trohman had died.”

Bramall renewed his grip on the incensed Andy as he tried to lunge forward to attack once more. Livid at being held back, Andy screamed his frustration.

“You bastard! You fucking bastard!” he yelled, straining against Bramall’s grip. “I’m gonna fucking kill him! Let go of me!”

Matthew grinned broadly at the enraged drummer, only goading him all the more.

“You’re pathetic! You thought I was Patrick!” he laughed. “Didn’t you! You thought he’d done all these terrible things. And you believed it. With friends like you, does he really need enemies?”

Andy stopped struggling as his words hit a raw nerve. Every word of what he said was true. So little was known at the time, yet Andy had accepted without question that Patrick had tried to murder Joe. Even Pete believed it and he had met the imposter face to face. They were both bad friends. How could they have believed it of him? But how could they deny the evidence of their own eyes?

“Let it go,” Bramall advised as he still gripped the now still tense but subdued Andy’s arms. “He’s trying to mess with your head. You’re blameless and he knows it.”

Andy stared down, tight-lipped and pale. He was trying so hard for Matthew’s words not to get to him but barring a miracle, they would sting forever. Unknowingly, Matthew himself provided the miracle.

“You may still be alive, but none of you’ll ever get over this. Your friendship’s dead at least!” Matthew added with a satisfied sneer.

Andy’s lips stretched into a smile as he realised that this man, despite looks and sound, was nothing like Patrick and moreover, he knew nothing about any of them.

“No,” he shook his head confidently, “you couldn’t be more wrong. We’re closer than you could ever imagine or understand.” Andy nodded as Matthew frowned at him. “You don’t get it and you never will. You’ll rot in a fucking jail cell while we support each other. We’ll be stronger for this and you? You’ll keep on being the failure you are. And you know what? If you’d have just gone to him, he’d have welcomed you. You’d have had a family and friends.”
“What makes you think I ever wanted that?” Matthew spat bitterly.

Andy took a deep breath.

“I can’t pretend to know what’s going on in your twisted little mind, but what I do know is that you’re lucky these guys arrived when they did. Five more minutes and even Patrick wouldn’t have recognised you!”

Matthew merely stared up; a strangely frustrating, superior expression pulled his lips into a self-satisfied sneer. Andy found it deeply frustrating that no matter what he said to this man, his belief that this was a mere setback seemed too deeply fixed in his mind to shift.

“Come on,” Bramall pulled gently at Andy’s arm. “Leave him with us, he’s as good as confessed, you go back to your friend.”
Andy agreed with a nod as he allowed himself to be led from the room. “What about Patrick and Pete?”
“All charges will be dropped, they’ll be released within the hour.”

Andy sighed heavily and shakily as he left the room and headed back to Joe’s room. Yes, it was good news that the charges against Patrick would be dropped, but despite what he had told Matthew, he wondered with some concern how Patrick would deal with this revelation.

*

“Trick?” Pete asked softly.

Patrick had stopped crying over ten minutes ago and was now almost dozing in Pete’s arms, cradling him across his lap as they sat across two plastic chairs. No reply told Pete that Patrick was finally resting in spite of the shock and trauma. A faint smile played across his lips, but it didn’t last long.

“Pete!” Ashlee cried as she pushed the door wide open.
“Wha…?” Pete looked up wide-eyed. “Ash? What’s wrong? Is Bronx okay?”

*

Pete woke with a start, looking around frantically. He had fallen asleep sitting on the couch in his home, on his lap lay Hemingway but despite the obvious signs, he was still very much confused. Everything he remembered of, what he now realised had been, a frightening nightmare had seemed so very real to him.

“Pete!” Ashlee cried as she shook him urgently.
“Wha…?” Pete looked up wide-eyed. “Ash? What’s wrong? Is Bronx okay?”
“He’s out there!” Ashlee replied in a strained voice.
“Bronx?” Pete asked, still confused and half asleep.
“No!” she was pulling him off the couch now and over to a window. “The man who’s been stalking me! He’s outside… now, just staring!”

Pete’s eyes widened until almost circular. As he stood at the window, the blond man from his dream, stood staring, faintly smiling at him.

“Houseman!”
“How do you know his name?” Ashlee asked, momentarily shaken from her mild panic.
“I… I don’t… know…” Pete was too stunned to reply with any degree of certainty.
“We need to get a restraining order against him,” Ashlee’s voice was shaky and frightened. “I’m scared of him, Pete.”

Pete nodded silently. It was all too familiar; was his nightmare over, or had it just begun?