Page 17 of Rat

Rory frowned. He was sure he’d put it on the designated trolley, but he didn’t want to argue. The officer at the front of the queue opened the gate, but Rory turned around, struggling to pass through the queue to get back to his table. The inmates jostled him, knocking into his shoulders, laughing as he lost his footing.

He managed not to fall, but he did trip.

Then he felt it.

The sudden slice and the sticky warmth that followed.

He widened his eyes as his shoulders continued to take a beating from the inmates going by, but those knocks didn’t hurt like his side did. It stung. He gasped at the biting pain, pressing his hand to the wound. Blood soaked into his white T-shirt and leaked through his fingers.

His shoulder was knocked, and this time he was unable to stay on his feet. He dropped to his knees and pitched forward, sucking air through his teeth at the fierce stinging in his side. The droning stomp of feet faded until Rory thought he was alone in the corridor.

A pair of battered trainers stopped in front of his knees, and he managed to lean back and look at Pauly grinning down on him.

“That’s what I like to see.” Pauly smirked. “You, realising your place is on your knees for me.”

Rory’s nose twitched with the smell of blood, his blood. It kept coming, and the pain didn’t subside; it grew more intense, until he had to shuffle away to lean his back to the wall.

Pauly gasped, crouching down. “Have you hurt yourself, sweetheart?”

“Go to hell,” Rory hissed.

“You’ve got to apply pressure,” Pauly said, then he squeezed his hand over Rory’s bloody fingers, pressing hard enough Rory cried out and his vision swam. “Hard. Pressure.”

“Rory!”

Captain’s voice was enough to scare Pauly away. He let go and left the corridor in the direction of the yard without a backwards glance.

“Shit, Rory,” Captain growled, dropping to his knees. “What the fuck happened?”

Rory shook his head. He didn’t know. One of the inmates had cut him, but he didn’t know who. They’d all been passing by him. He’d not been paying attention to their faces and hadn’t seen a weapon.

“Come on,” Captain said, hauling Rory’s free arm over his shoulders. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

4

“Try to hold still,”the doctor mumbled, splaying a hand on Rory’s side.

Captain had refused to let the officers help Rory to the hospital wing, but the second he deposited Rory on the bed, he was ushered out by the irate officer shadowing them.

Upon seeing the wound, the doctor shook his head, told Rory he needed stitches and eased him down on the bed. Rory had been cut along the waist, and although it wasn’t deep enough to threaten Rory’s life, it was long, and wide enough it needed to be closed with a needle.

Doctor Pichard wasn’t one for small talk. His gloves were cold on Rory’s skin, and he frowned as he worked. Rory tried his best to be a good patient for him and keep still, but his toes spasmed. He’d been given an injection above the wound, and the doctor had waited a minute for it to kick in, but it still hurt when he tugged.

“I’ll give you a tetanus injection too,” Pichard said.

“Huh?”

“Whatever was used on you, I’ll bet my life on it being unclean.”

Pichard looked up. His blue eyes were dull, and from the dark bags beneath, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Are you not going to ask me what happened?” Rory asked.

Pichard’s smile was small. “I can see what happened.”

“Yeah, but are you not going to ask about it?”

“If you knew who did it, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell anyone, so there’s no point asking.” He stood up. “I need to put a bandage over the wound, and you’ll have to make sure it doesn’t get wet for a few weeks.”

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