Oblivious by Jamie Bowers Page B

do it,’ Joe said as he tried to step backwards to the bed, ‘I need to sit down.’
    Tanner grabbed his arm and stopped him from sitting down. ‘Now come on, you can do this. You know you can and you will.’ Joe looked Tanner as he was still struggling to stand.
    ‘Why are you so interested in me being able to walk?’
    ‘Well, you see, it’s like this.’ said Tanner as he let go of Joe, allowing him to sit down. ‘If I let you stay in here it makes me look weak. To most of the inmates this is a vacation lodge and some of them will do anything to get in here. I don’t want anyone to be in here for a long time because of my image. So you see, Parcoli, you will be back in your cell tomorrow.’ Tanner stepped around Joe and gestured to Richards, ‘Come on Captain, we had best let Mr Parcoli get his rest, he’s moving back home tomorrow.’ Richards opened the door allowing Tanner to leave and then he followed, closing the door behind him.
    Joe sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, thinking of Tanner’s last words telling him that he will be back in his cell tomorrow. He took a big inhale of air and closed his eyes. Pulling himself quickly to his feet he bit his lip as the pain set in.
    ‘You can do this,’ he said to himself once more as he tried to stand up straight, ‘it’s just one foot in front of the other.’ He slowly moved his left foot forward, the cast weighing down his leg, it barely left the ground. As he rested it on the ground he took a deep breath, ready to shift his weight to his bad leg. As he leant over to his left, the pain became stronger and he had to take it slowly. Lifting his right foot gently off the floor he gritted his teeth and quickly stepped it forward. The momentum took a hold of him so he did it again, trying to breathe in synchronization with the pain. With each movement the pain became more bearable and before he knew it he was at least six feet from the bed. With one last step he reached the window, reaching out at the ledge, he used it for support. Sweat dripping from his face onto the crisp, clean floor Joe was happy with what he had achieved so far. Just as he pulled himself upright to walk back Francis walked into the room.
    ‘Don’t try and stop me,’ he said as he took a small step, ‘I have to do this.’ Francis stood watching him, holding a walking stick in her hand.
    ‘I heard what the Warden has said,’ said Francis as she placed the stick on the bed, ‘that’s why I got this for you. It’s an old one out of the storeroom, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.’ Joe looked at it lying on the bed. It had obviously been used by many men before with the scratches, dents and dirt along the shaft.
    ‘Thanks, but I don’t want to look like a cripple out in the yard. An easy target for the other men to go after? No thanks.’
    As Joe got closer to the bed he moved his feet too fast and stumbled, grabbing out at the bed he pulled on the sheet and it went down to floor along with him. Lying on his back, the pain was unbearable for him. Tears running from his eyes, settling into his hair Francis stepped over slowly, not knowing if she was allowed to help him. Joe reached out his hand for help, admitting defeat.
    Francis went down on one knee, holding his hand she placed her arm under his and lifted him to his feet. ‘You don’t need to be afraid to ask for help, Joe.’ She said as she propped him against the edge of the bed.
    ‘I know,’ said Joe as he wiped the tears from his eyes, ‘I just want to do this my way.’ He turned and picked up the stick from the bed. Holding it upright, he sat and stared at it, a solid, single piece of wood, something that could not be taken apart and used for parts to fashion a weapon. The wood felt soft in his hands, possibly a result of the damp conditions it has been subject to whilst in storage. Joe placed the end of the walking stick on the ground and leant forward onto it. Pushing down with all of his strength he