Chapter Ten
People notice the strangest things when they are near death. Every little thing.
Like noticing the fact that they notice things.
Ordinarily Voah would have allowed himself a slight smile, but he did not at this point in time, preferring instead to continue staring at the ceiling.
Voah remembered his childhood.
Is this my life flashing before me?
There he was, sitting in a little wagon, his mother pulling him along.
A tulip poked its head out of his mother's flowerbed, the red petals glistening in the afternoon sun.
Voah reached out to grab it, plucking it out of the ground.
"Oh... why did you do that? Don't pull up mommy's flowers."
His mother bent down, looking at the spot where the tulip was.
"We'll put that in a little vase, I guess."
Voah loved the little flower sitting on his mantelpiece, and would drag over a chair and look at it when he pleased.
One day, he decided to give it a gift.
Grabbing the sugar from the cupboard, he clambered up onto the chair and spilled some sugar into the water the tulip rested in.
For two days, the tulip did nothing. Voah went as far to say it looked better than usual.
The next day Voah woke up and ran to the kitchen, pausing to glance at the flower.
Wilted and dead, it lay against the edge of the vase.
Voah cried to his mother, who came in.
"Oh..." she sighed, "I'll just clean it up."
"You can't fix it?"
"No, Voah." she said, shaking her head.
"Why not?"
"Just because I can't. You can't do that."
"Oh."
Why am I thinking about this?
The man walked around the bed, pressing the gun to Voah's temple.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No. I don't."
"I'm not suprised. But I know someone you love dearly."
"Who?"
The man's lips cracked into a smile.
"Your mother. Me and her were great friends in prison. She told me of her wonderful son, who went by the name 'Voah'"
He paused.
"What's your real name?"
"I..."
Voah looked at the man, trying to find anything that could save him.
"I don't remember."
The man glanced at the door as a nurse walked by, and then continued.
"I didn't think she would snitch on me when I told her of my escape attempt. Bought me two years in solitary, you know that?"
The man flicked the safety off.
"She's not gonna die yet. That's too easy."
Voah swung his right arm out, smacking the man in the stomach. He doubled over and Voah punched him again, this time in the face.
Adrenaline coursed through him as he leapt up, continuing to smash the man as best he could.
The gun dropped to the floor.
The man made a last ditch attempt at killing Voah, desperately throwing himself at the boy.
Voah's weight sank back to his left foot as he side-stepped the ill-conceived attack, reaching to grab the gun the man had dropped.
Don't shoot him.
Why wouldn't I?
Because it's not the right thing to do.
"Get up."
The man slowly stood up.
"Get against the wall."
"Which wall?"
"The far one from the door."
He did as he was told.
Voah reached for the door handle.
With a smash the man barreled into him, each word accenting the delivery of a punch.
"Son... of... a..."
BANG!
The man fell to the floor, a bullet hole between his eyes.
Voah didn't feel like dealing with it right now.
He got back into his bed.
He tilted his head up, his eyes flitting about the stark, white ceiling.
Like noticing the fact that they notice things.
Ordinarily Voah would have allowed himself a slight smile, but he did not at this point in time, preferring instead to continue staring at the ceiling.
Voah remembered his childhood.
Is this my life flashing before me?
There he was, sitting in a little wagon, his mother pulling him along.
A tulip poked its head out of his mother's flowerbed, the red petals glistening in the afternoon sun.
Voah reached out to grab it, plucking it out of the ground.
"Oh... why did you do that? Don't pull up mommy's flowers."
His mother bent down, looking at the spot where the tulip was.
"We'll put that in a little vase, I guess."
Voah loved the little flower sitting on his mantelpiece, and would drag over a chair and look at it when he pleased.
One day, he decided to give it a gift.
Grabbing the sugar from the cupboard, he clambered up onto the chair and spilled some sugar into the water the tulip rested in.
For two days, the tulip did nothing. Voah went as far to say it looked better than usual.
The next day Voah woke up and ran to the kitchen, pausing to glance at the flower.
Wilted and dead, it lay against the edge of the vase.
Voah cried to his mother, who came in.
"Oh..." she sighed, "I'll just clean it up."
"You can't fix it?"
"No, Voah." she said, shaking her head.
"Why not?"
"Just because I can't. You can't do that."
"Oh."
Why am I thinking about this?
The man walked around the bed, pressing the gun to Voah's temple.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No. I don't."
"I'm not suprised. But I know someone you love dearly."
"Who?"
The man's lips cracked into a smile.
"Your mother. Me and her were great friends in prison. She told me of her wonderful son, who went by the name 'Voah'"
He paused.
"What's your real name?"
"I..."
Voah looked at the man, trying to find anything that could save him.
"I don't remember."
The man glanced at the door as a nurse walked by, and then continued.
"I didn't think she would snitch on me when I told her of my escape attempt. Bought me two years in solitary, you know that?"
The man flicked the safety off.
"She's not gonna die yet. That's too easy."
Voah swung his right arm out, smacking the man in the stomach. He doubled over and Voah punched him again, this time in the face.
Adrenaline coursed through him as he leapt up, continuing to smash the man as best he could.
The gun dropped to the floor.
The man made a last ditch attempt at killing Voah, desperately throwing himself at the boy.
Voah's weight sank back to his left foot as he side-stepped the ill-conceived attack, reaching to grab the gun the man had dropped.
Don't shoot him.
Why wouldn't I?
Because it's not the right thing to do.
"Get up."
The man slowly stood up.
"Get against the wall."
"Which wall?"
"The far one from the door."
He did as he was told.
Voah reached for the door handle.
With a smash the man barreled into him, each word accenting the delivery of a punch.
"Son... of... a..."
BANG!
The man fell to the floor, a bullet hole between his eyes.
Voah didn't feel like dealing with it right now.
He got back into his bed.
He tilted his head up, his eyes flitting about the stark, white ceiling.
