Chapter 31
The bandage felt hard and crusty. Abbott gingerly ran his fingers over the gauze.
“Why didn’t you tell me what happened to you, son? We need to file a police report.”
The doctor’s voice rose up, a remembrance from the emergency room at St. Elizabeth’s in Youngstown, the hospital from which Abbott had sneaked out only hours before.
The motel bed beneath him felt hard; he would never be able to sleep. The room smelled of disinfectant and stale tobacco smoke.
“It was just an accident,” Abbott had snapped. “Just shut up about it. I didn’t come here to be interrogated.”
The motel room lay in near darkness, but for the flickering images from a TV mounted high on the wall. Static hissed and lines of snow rolled from the vacant channel, casting gray, changing shadows into the room
