Читать книгу JUNKIE II - Shawnda Christiansen - Страница 9

This is one of those moments in life to treasure, like the moment you resurface from the deepest body of water. Holding it. Holding it. Holding it.

Swoosh!

You finally break the surface, and you feel the wind wash over your face, the air plunging into your lungs—or in Sonny’s case, the air plunging out of his lungs as I smashed his esophagus with my foot. “Did this go the way you thought it was going to?” I said to him as he fell flat on his back, gasping for air.

“We can finish this up the easy way or the hard way—your call,” I said to him as I eyed his clothing. “My butt’s too shy to blast through the crowd in this gown.” I turned and showed him my bare ass.

Sonny got back onto his feet.

“Alrighty sweetheart, have it your way.”

We squared off, Sonny with a knife, and me… “All I got is mashed potatoes and gravy, while you’ve got yourself a knife.”

Sonny choked out some words, inaudible words. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m still in, all the way,” I said.

I used to love Christmas, but I didn’t really celebrate it too much anymore, on account of my whole family being - something I didn’t really like to spend too much time thinking about. Christmas was just a reminder, a call to the soul, as it were.

The carolers started singing “We wish you a merry Christmas.”

God, that brings back memories. My mother used to always sing that to me. “Did your mother sing to you when you were little?”

Sonny looked at me, confused.

“Was your family big on Christmas?” I asked. Sonny shook his head.

I grabbed my food tray. “I told you to help yourself to this shit right here.” I flung my dinner in his face.

Sonny lunged at me again with the knife.

I used the food tray to block multiple swings, shredding it and lining the walls with mashed potatoes and gravy. “What a waste,” I said as I started singing along with the carolers.

Something about the song just called to my soul, the same way air calls to the soul of a man who has been underwater for way too long. “We wish you a merry Christmassssssss.” I shoved the shredded food tray into his face and whispered into his ear, “Take a deep breath now; we’re about to go under,” as I knocked him out with a well-placed knuckle blow to his neck.

I caught his limp body as I kept singing, “And a happy new year” and dragged him over to the hospital bed. “It was so nice of you to stop by and keep her warm for me,” I said as I placed him in my bed.

I stripped him.

Swapped clothes with him.

Grabbed his broom and headed for the door.

On second thought, I doubled back and handcuffed him to the bed. Just a little insurance policy for my nurse’s safety.