At precisely noon the next day Mr. Albert Stone was there to pick me up and we drove in pressing silence to the prison.

A warden took us to an empty meeting room, and we took our seats at a table.

A minute later a door on the opposite end opened and another warden came inside accompanied by what seemed to be the prison doctor and a dishevelled man in handcuffs standing slumped between them.

As they approached I realized that he really did look sickly.

His face was ashen, his eyes dark and sunken.

He had never looked great, but this time he looked much worse for wear than I could remember.

He took a seat directly opposite me and his two companions remained standing, flanking him on either side.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Mr. Rhyse.” The doctor spoke. A name card on her coat read Judy Hall.

I gave a soft frown. Perhaps they’d had to persuade him too, though that seemed a bit out of sort.

We sat in silence for a long time, before my father finally gathered the courage to look me in the eye.

“Oh!” he made a show of gasping and recoiling in shock.

I held his gaze calmly.

“You have five minutes.” I said. “State your intentions.”

My father flinched for real this time and looked towards the doctor.

“Very well.” She said. “As Mr. Stone has no doubt informed you, your father is suffering from kidney failure.”

“I have gathered as much.”  I replied. “What’s it got to do with me?”

“Well…” Doctor Hall scoffed. “As you are a direct relative of his, there is a high chance you will be a match for a transplant.”

“And if I refuse?” I asked.

“He will die.” Doctor Hall said promptly.

I looked her in the eye.

“You will not make any attempt to find a different donor, whatsoever?” I asked, and enjoyed – perhaps a bit too much – seeing how her smug expression twitched.

“The waiting list is long, and he has little time.” She snapped.

“That really isn’t my concern, madam. Respectfully.” I noted.

“Perhaps you fail to grasp the severity of the situation, sir.” Doctor Hall folded her arms.

“If you refuse, this man here, your father, will die.”

As she spoke, the man in the seat did his best to look as pitiful as he possibly could, sinking back into the seat and crumpling in on himself.

I took a moment to steel myself, before looking back up ad Doctor Hall.

“With all due respect, Doctor Hall, I have just undergone a stay and treatment in hospital, which might jeopardize my career. Doing so again is not really on my list of priorities. Not in this case.”

Doctor Hall eyed me incredulously.

“You value your career more than a human life?” she exhaled in a sharp whisper.

I paused for a moment, swallowing back the retort that he certainly did, regarding how he wound up here.

“In the kindest possible way, doctor, it’s not much of a life.”

I shook my head.

The doctor shot forward, slamming her palms on the table.

“Have you no heart?!” she exclaimed, and I guarded myself from the smell of her breath.

“Your father, your flesh and blood, is on his death-bed! And you will do nothing to help him?”

“By his own devices.” I replied. “His horrendous life choices have landed him in a tough spot. I really don’t see why I in any way should be held responsible for this. The answer is no. Thanks, and farewell.”

This had been a huge mistake. Closure? What the hell had I been thinking?

I got up and made to leave.

“Mister Rhyse!” the doctor spat the words in my direction and I stopped on the spot, turning back around.

“Captain. I must insist.” I said. “If you’re so inclined to be harsh, at least use the proper honorifics.”

The doctor was positively fuming, and the warden seemed half prepared to restrain her.

But then another voice sounded out.

“Please…” it muttered, and I cast my gaze down towards the slumped figure still sitting opposite the chair I had vacated.

“Don’t fight.” His voice sounded awful as well. Ragged and faint, though it was difficult to tell what was genuine and what was just an act.

“Avery…” he turned his bloodshot eyes to me. “If you don’t want to help, I completely understand. It’s alright.”

“Good.” I said. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now, if there was nothing else…”

“Please…” he said once more, and I fought the urge to vomit. “If it’s not too much to ask… at least let me say my piece.”

It was. It really was too much to ask, but I remained quiet and he continued.

“Avery.”

How I wished he would stop saying my name.

“I understand your hostility towards me, but I want you to know; I never meant to do it! It was an accident!”

He peppered some sobs in here and there for extra drama.

“An accident?” I shook my head. “You squeezed until her neck snapped! It may not have been premeditated, but it was intentional.”

I noticed the doctor flicking him a look at this, and felt a sting of realization. Perhaps he’d gotten her under his thumb as well.

He was good at garnering sympathy after all.

“Now, if there was nothing else, I believe we are done here.” I said, and then turned to leave.

As I walked towards the door, I heard him speak one last time.

“Uncle Sam would’ve been so proud of you.”

I was going to be sick.

“I know.” I said. “Shame I can’t say the same to you.”

Back in the lobby, I excused myself and headed into the bathroom to calm myself. My body was shaking and my skin felt feverish to the touch.

Once I felt confident I was not going to throw up, I went over to the sink to wash my hands and splash some water onto my face.

As I was dabbing myself dry with a paper towel, my phone began vibrating in my pocket.

I pulled it out and examined the display.

Torrens, ASHAE

I pushed to answer and put the phone to my good ear.

“Hello?”

“Captain Rhyse? Are you busy at the moment? Something’s come up.”

“Not in particular, why? What’s happened?”

“How do you feel about flying an empty jet?”

“An empty jet?” I echoed.

“Yes. We’ve got one waiting at Heathrow and we need it in Dublin. It seemed a simple and low-risk extra test for you. Are you up for it?”

Immediately I felt the remaining stress of having to deal with my father drain away.

“Oh. Er, Sure.” I said. “Let me just inform my roommate so she won’t be worried.”

“Roger that.” Madam Torrens replied. “Meet us at Heathrow in say, an hour and a half?”

We exchanged farewells and I hung up to immediately phone up Essie and explain the situation.

“You’re taking a plane to Dublin?” she seemed nonplussed. “Er, alright. Good luck! How do you get back?”

“I’ll find a ride. See you soon!”

“Do you want me to come pick you up at the airport?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll catch a bus or a train. Thanks though, I appreciate it!”

“Let me know if you change your mind!”

Then she hung up and I went back out to Mr. Stone waiting in the lobby.

“You can drop me off at Heathrow.” I told him as we got into the car.

He passed me a sidelong glance.

“At Heathrow?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” I replied, looking out the window.

He hesitated a moment longer, perhaps waiting for me to further elaborate, but I had said my piece, and eventually he got the car in gear, driving out of the prison car park.