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Violet
Being alone in Darren's house was pretty awkward, if I'm honest. And if it was awkward for me, I can only imagine what it was like for him. He knocked repeatedly on my room's door the following morning.
"Violet, erm. Violet."
I didn't immediately respond, and he knocked again.
"Violet."
It wasn't particularly early. I don't know why I took so long to wake up.
"What?" I finally replied, and it came out louder and sharper than I intended.
"Can you get up?"
"Yeah."
"I have information, about the hospital. I'm going soon, I guess you want to come too?"
That cleared up my tired fog much faster. "Yes." I swung my legs over the side of the bed and his footsteps headed down the hallway. I stared at my discarded knickers on the floor. "Darren," I called.
"Yes?" The footsteps came back.
"I really need clean clothes."
"Oh, God." There was a pause. "Are you decent?"
"No."
So we just had this bizarre conversation through the door.
"I, erm," he unhelpfully started.
"Does David leave any spare boxers around by any chance?"
He let out a light chuckle that was more of an amused exhale. "We've not had to keep spare underwear for him for a long time."
"Okay."
"Erm."
I guessed I'd have to borrow something of his.
"Maybe Tyler's smallest boxer briefs would fit you."
Or that.
"Can I just put my stuff in the wash?" I asked.
"Yes, but the hospital hours, um..."
"Just a quick spin."
"Yes, but the tumble dryer-"
"Darren, it's literally just some knickers."
His voice sounded muffled, like he had his hands over his face. "Okay, all right. Hold on." He walked away again, but came back and dropped a bathrobe through the door. I could probably wrap myself up twice in it.
I was hungry again. I was stiff in places that confused me - I didn't remember using those parts for anything specific. My head had a large bruise which only hurt if I touched it. The cut on my face only hurt if I stretched my cheek with expressions. My arms were decorated with marks from the vice grips of the police.
I made myself some toast, repeatedly checking the washing machine for the twenty-minute spin to be over with. Darren was anxious to get to the hospital, and so was I. I didn't know what to say to David, or what he'd say to me, but I needed to see him.
Darren wandered around on the phone. I didn't know what it was about, just kept hearing his voice through the walls. He hung up and came into the kitchen with an expression that said his mind was busy. If he had any sort of a hangover, he did a good job at hiding it. There were only some creases around his brow and eyes to suggest he was working through a headache. He poured himself what might have been his second or third cup of coffee.
There was a distinct lack of noise from the washing machine, so I went out to sort the dryer. Darren was leaning against the counter and looking down at his phone when I came back in. I hesitated before speaking. His eyes flicked up to my presence.
"... Have they found my parents yet?" I asked.
"I'm trying to find out."
I stared at the floor and crossed my arms.
"Lawrence is sticking his nose in for me," Darren continued.
"Who is he?"
"What?"
"Lawrence."
"Someone who's been hunting Driscolls for a long time. I was put in contact with him some years ago."
"Right."
"This was all the kick-off he was waiting for. Had to happen one day."
So Darren was bait on a hook. I came along and bit.
I watched him typing a message on his phone's screen, then looked around the kitchen. I hated everything right then. The situation, what had happened, everything I'd done. I wanted to fix things, make everything better. I was helpless. Everything was in the hands of someone else, the mercy of something else. I dropped the stone and had no power over the ripples.
*
The drive was uneventful. I tagged along behind Darren upon arrival. He seemed to know where he was going and what he was doing.
I was 19 years old, and it was the first time I stepped foot inside a hospital. I had been born in one, but had no memories. When Dad got beaten up and stabbed, he never went to hospital. He 'pulled himself together' and spent a few weeks struggling. When Mum jumped off a moving motorbike in a choreographed crash and broke her arm, she never went to hospital. A friend snapped something back in place and bound it up while she screeched profanities. It got better, but she always complained that she didn't have the same strength in that arm ever again.
The hospital's interior was exactly as I expected it to be, but we slipped through without saying anything to anyone. Darren never went up to a desk. He stopped briefly to check some information on ward names, then continued down the corridor.
When we reached the ward that held David and Tyler, there were police. My stomach instinctively tightened, but Darren sped up. He greeted them with professional tact and showed some ID.
"And her?" one asked.
"My niece."
Well, okay. They let us through. I didn't understand at the time, but they were there in case anyone came into the hospital in an attempt to 'finish off the job'. An unlikely but thoughtful precaution.
We were seeing Tyler first. I fell behind as we approached the door. "Do you want to, err..." I gestured for Darren to go ahead.
He glanced over his shoulder. "He'll want to know what happened. Wouldn't you rather explain it yourself?"
Fair enough. I followed him inside.
We walked into Tyler bickering with who I assumed to be a nurse. His voice cut off mid-sentence and his head snapped to the door. He stared for a second, yelped out a little laugh, then looked back to the woman - "Nevermind." He grinned at us. "Did you suck the police's dicks?"
"Lawrence's," Darren replied.
Another yelp. "Is he doing even half as good a job as Ted?"
"It's not really a fair field to judge."
"Mister Sörensen?" the nurse asked.
Darren straightened at the side of the bed. "Yes?"
She simply nodded in affirmation and looked back to Tyler. "I'll leave you to it."
"Ma'am," Darren started. "Where is Keane?"
She paused with her hand on the door handle. "David Keane?"
"Yes."
"You're not of kin."
"Not officially, no."
Her eyes slid back to Tyler. "He's been explaining to me. David had some lad come in earlier, his brother I think? I'll go check anyways, and let you know." She took her leave.
I stood feeling very much like a third wheel as Darren sat on the side of the bed and seized Tyler in an embrace. Tyler returned it with one arm - his left was in a sling. Darren pulled back and gave it a tug. "What's this?"
"They don't really want me to move my arm while it heals, some shit with my shoulder blade. To be fair," he lifted the elbow level with his chin, "it hurts like a bitch to move it anyways."
They returned to their previous closeness. Darren seemed content with holding him in silence for a short while. Tyler eventually lifted his buried face, rested his chin on Darren's shoulder, and gave me a look. "So, what exactly has been going on?"
I think facing Tyler was, in some ways, the hardest. And I could get it over with first. I didn't know how many times I would be repeating this story.
There wasn't much detail or emotion. I simply relayed events, starting with the phonecall from Harold. I did try to apologise about the whole ringing-up-Tyler-gone-midnight thing. He smirked and I looked away. He watched me the entire time I spoke, but I only made a few glances of eye contact.
I trailed off close to the end, thinking Darren would take over and explain what exactly had gone on involving the police, but he didn't. There was a silence.
The silence stretched. Tyler was waiting for me to look up and make eye contact. I finally did.
"You're a dumb bitch," was his response. To everything. "And a pretty good shot."
I scoffed. "Not good enough."
"Why?"
"I didn't kill him."
"No, then you would've stolen Darren's moment." His eyes finally moved off me. "You enjoyed that, didn't you? Fucking idiot."
Darren's face was obscured behind his hand, but he visibly shook his head. "I lost my shit."
"Yeah, and you know who else lost their shit? The kid."
"Fucking hell." Darren dragged the hand down his jaw. "It's lucky you stopped him when you did."
"Yeah, and I nearly got broken ribs for it. For fuck sake. He's too big now, I can't handle him anymore."
There was another short silence. Tyler's abrasive, joking manner could be equally hard-hitting.
David definitely had lost his shit. A physical eruption. The blurred lines of violence. Perhaps the worst thing, was that nobody was sorry it had happened. None of us knew how things might've gone otherwise. David performed nothing but a necessity that kept the four of us alive.
"If only he did that at the car," Tyler continued.
"They got the jump on you," I quietly replied. "It makes the difference."
He snorted. "You'd know all about that, huh? Like you knew to aim at the torso and not the head?"
I stared at the floor.
"You got a headshot, though. I saw it."
I'd shot people dead, and Tyler was ready to joke about it.
"Can we not talk about this," Darren butted. "Not here, not right now."
Tyler shrugged his right shoulder. "We have to talk at some point."
Darren let out a deep sigh and buried his head again.
"What's going on," Tyler pushed, "what's Lawrence doing?"
"Honestly, I wish I knew."
"Is he gonna find anything out?"
"Actually, I called him up to tell him something."
"What?"
Darren's eyes fixed on me. "This Driscoll talked with Violet, and told her some things."
"Like what?"
"Like, my dad stole Brendan's wife."