I wonder how many years has it been that this cell had maintenance. I kept staring at the ceiling and noticed the concrete was teetering. Then I saw the ceiling powder up with dust and some debris particles fell onto my eyes that caused my eyes to hurt, compelling me to rub it with my hands. As I did, I slightly turned my head on the side.
The old guy I am with is lying facing the wall, and for some reason he might have heard me groan and turned around to face me, but I was surprised when his face was slowly revealed, it's not the same old annoying man that's looking at me, instead it was a familiar face. Confused by what I saw, I rubbed harder at my eyes but it did not make it any better and had only made it worse causing my vision to become even blurrier. I tried to press my eyes with the heel of my palm and held it for a moment before I removed it to see him. But nothing changed. My eyes filled with tears as I tried to process in my mind who I am looking at, it really is my Papop.
I cried. "Papop."
My heart melted when I saw him smile at me. I missed you, Papop. The look on his face is still my Papop who's so warm and loving to me.
"I'm still proud of you Paul"
"Papop…"
But in an instant, the aura on his face had become gloomy. "Even if you had become a murderer!" I frantically scooted back against the wall and quickly sat upright.
I could not understand why but I pushed my back as hard as I could against the wall as if it would help me evade his presence. His voice had changed, and his eyes started to gaze crazily at me, making me anxious and extremely uncomfortable. My body began to shake rabidly, and I could hear my heart beating so hard, it's like my ears are beside it.
He started to laugh hysterically and outside behind the iron bars of the cell, I heard someone talking and it's rather a voice I know and another unfamiliar voice.
"Tell me what's wrong with my son doctor?"
"Your son needs to be strictly administered— his life is endangered."
The familiar voice started to sob, I tried to peer outside but before I did that, I saw Papop still glaring and grinning at me. Driven by my curiosity to confirm the voices I just heard outside, I chose to ignore Papop despite the feeling of hostility coming from him. I leaned closer toward the iron bars and peered harder. My eyes were already tearing up, as soon as I got a look at her face, my cheek was already damped with tears. Mamom!
"You are pathologically altruistic!" The three of them simultaneously screamed at me and my eyes jumped from Mamom to Papop then back to Mamom.
Being extremely flustered, I could not decide who I should put my focus on, but after a few seconds that almost felt like they are staring at me for an hour. My attention was taken by Papop— he started laughing again.
"You did not help anyone Paul, you are just a manipulative bastard who tricks someone into believing they are healed to feed your ego so you can calm yourself!" Papop exclaimed.
"You are not a helper like you think! You're pathethic Paul!" Mamom started to laugh along with Papop and I saw the doctor's face now—it's the old guy I was with in the cell.
"No! No! No!" I cried and curled myself up, hiding my face with my hands.
I peeked at them through my fingers, and I saw Mamom and the old guy inside the cell with Papop glaring at me, grinning and they started to approach me. I can't explain what I was feeling, tears and sweat was mixed having me damp with it and I was shaking so bad my body could not move any further and they came closer… and closer…
"No!" I screamed jolting, pushing my body upright.
I gasped for air and looked around, there was no one else inside except for that old guy who's sitting on his bed looking at me laughing. I could tell how much fun he was having looking at me screaming for my life.
I fell asleep staring at the ceiling.
"You're as crazy as me." He laughed.
I glanced at him but ignored him. I'm busy catching my breath.
"Papop!" He said trying his best to mimic my impression, he was already scowling in pain in his chest but nevertheless he continued to make fun of me.
"Shut up!"
"What's wrong son? It's still you're second day in here, don't go crazy yet."
"I'm not! I was just having a bad dream." I answered, staring down at the sheet of my bed, palming my forehead.
"I told you, you'll get used to it." There it is again.
Annoyed by that same sentence he keeps reiterating at me, I just sighed.
"I did not murder anyone." I mumbled.
He clapped his hands together, sounding like it overjoyed him hearing what I said. "We're alike each other! Haha! We would get along just fine son."
"I'm not a murderer!"
He raised his hands up on me and smiled. "Okay, okay. Calm down, don't go jumping at me, I'm just an old man."
I breathed in and sighed, stared at him. I realized it's pointless to be upset now.
"How are we alike? Did you murder someone too?" I asked, sitting myself properly to face him.
He slides his hand down his pillow and reached something beneath it. It was a pack of cigarettes, he grabbed a stick and tossed the pack to me.
"What's your name?" He asked with the stick of cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a lighter that he got inside his pocket.
"Paul." I looked at the pack and grabbed myself a stick, he smirked knowing that I smoke then tossed the lighter at me.
He puffed and blew the smoke in front. "More than once Paul."
I put the stick on my mouth and lit it, before I responded I breathed in the smoke and slowly let it out toward the ground.
"That's terrible." In disbelief, that's all I could say. I'm talking face to face to a murderer, worst he doesn't even show any remorse for it.
"Terrible, cos' I was caught." He puffed hard at his cigarette making the tip scorch fiery red.
We kept ourselves busy smoking and the cell was filled with the bitter fumes we puffed. It was quiet for a moment, and my hand instinctively reached for another stick, I had burnt to the butt the one I had just lit.
"Terrible, being caught." I said out of the blue. He bound his look at me and grinned. "No, I'm innocent, but I was brought here accused so technically it's the same… I did not kill anyone." I explained, lighting the stick on my mouth.
He nodded. "I was caught weeks after my last house break in when someone tried to steal my loot."
I cackled. "Ironic huh?"
"I swung a bat on his head, but it did not kill him right away and I did not realized he was still able to call for help and police came to my house—the dead body was still lying at the floor." He paused to inhale his cigarette and wheezed in a blast. "If it had killed him in one swing, I should not be here."
"How long were you hauled up in here" I asked
"I've been here since two decades."
I calculated in my head. "Twenty years…"
"Twenty-five years." He corrected.
I stared at him. "Was the loot that enough to kill another human being?"
"A loot is a loot, Paul. And I killed a couple for that, so it's not just nothing."
My heart rocketed upward my throat. "It happened twenty-five years ago, was it?" He nodded. "I'm just curious." I tittered. "Was there a gnome figurine in your loot?"
"A short person, with a big nose wearing a red hat?" He clarified, gesturing with his hands.
"Yeah."
"I got lots of it from the houses I broke into."
"The house you broke in before you were arrested, was there something like that."
"Of course there was, how'd you know?" He gabbled.
After he responded, my ears were suddenly deafened by a sharp ringing noise, my vision became blurry and slowly got shrouded with darkness. Until I totally lost ground on my surroundings.