Anger Incubates in SolitaryMature

“Nurse, get the door!” Blondie called out to a woman in the desk station.  She ran over and turned a key at a console.  The doors snapped—they were locked shut tight.  “You’re not going anywhere but back to your room, old man.”  Blondie picked up his baton and gave him another good crack on his leg. 

By now, several other men in white were hustling down the hall.  The old man toppled over.  As the man on his back tightened his grip around the old man’s neck, the last thing he saw was the blurred image of men in white running toward him on a beige floor, dimming slowly until all was completely black.

* * *

The old man awoke back in his room.  The restraints were once again in place and his door was shut.  Stale sunlight emanated through the small window.

He lay there for more than two hours before he started to feel the painful urge to urinate.  This time, he wasn’t catheterized.  More time passed.  Finally, he couldn’t hold it any longer so he let go, relieving the pressure on his bladder. 

* * *

The next day, a young woman entered his room with a tray of juice and two jars of pureed foods. She put her hand over her nose and winced at the smell of urine as she placed the tray on a side table. The old man started mumbling out gibberish at her but she couldn’t understand. 

“Sit back and eat!” The nurse looked disgusted as she started spooning him the food.  He looked at her, directly in her eyes.  Can she help me?I need to get out of here. 

“Don’t look at me.” She scolded him.  “Nasty thing.” 

Hours after she left the old man urinated in his bed once again.

As the sun went down and night set in once more, the old man closed his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep.  Anger stirred in his chest—a hot and persistent irritation that made his scalp itch and his mouth gnarl.  

He laid there for hours in the dark.  Enraged.

* * *

After he woke up from finally falling asleep, the rage crept back into the old man’s heart.  He struggled against his restraints once more.  As he was rattling his wrists against the side of the bed, he could hear the wind on his window.  

The End

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