McNeill walked down the hallway to the corridor where the guard had called him. "What is so damn important that it can't wait?" he demanded in a cold voice, loathing the disturbance.
"Y, your, your wife is on the phone for you sir," the short young guard stuttered the information, fear shining through in his voice as the Warden looked down upon the young man menacingly.
"Couldn't you tell her to call back later?" McNeill asked in the same cold voice that was now incredibly irritated, running his hand in obvious annoyance over his short brown hair.
"I did," the guards voice was suddenly small and meek as he shied away from McNeill, knowing what could happen when the Warden was mad with someone. "She said she needs to talk to you now Warden."
"Oh bloody hell! Fine," he walked into the small office that was down in the dungeons and picked up the phone receiver, pressing the flashing button. "McNeill." No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide the anger in his voice.
"Hello darling," the soft and incredibly familiar voice came through from the other end of the line, although this time it sent no warmth through McNeill's body.
"Hello Dawn," McNeill replied still sounding irritated.
"What's wrong?" concern shone through the beautiful voice, Dawn didn't want her husband to be mad with her.
"Well I'm right in the middle of something at the moment Dawn. What do you want?" All the Warden wanted to do was get back to Elizabeth and sort this predicament of his out, but he didn't know how getting back to Elizabeth was going to sort anything out. Confusion raced through him.
"Well I've organized for my appointment that was supposed to be today, for Tuesday instead, so what time do you want me and the boys to come there? Lunch time or afternoon?"
"Ah, midday then Dawn. I have to go." McNeill slammed the receiver down into its cradle and then slammed his tightly balled fist down onto the table. "God damn it Dawn!" Frustration and anger were pulsing through him again.
"Sir, what do you want me to do with Oldin?" the guards voice came from the doorway leading out to the corridor.
"I'll deal with her." His voice was cold as ice as he thought about the dark angel sitting in the end cell of the dungeons, just waiting for him to come back. "You get back up to the cell block," the Warden instructed the young guard, again rubbing his hand through his short hair.
McNeill walked out of the small office and hurried back down to the end cell where he had left the dark angel that was causing him so much emotional stress. He walked into the cell and looked around for her in the dim light then he saw an outline of someone slumped on the floor against the side of the cell, beneath the restraints where he had left Elizabeth standing.
"Oh shit." His anger and frustration immediately evaporated. Without another second passing the Warden ran over to Elizabeth laying completely still on the hard floor and listened for her breathing. It was steady but very shallow. Fear gripped his chest. His heartbeat quickened. A cold sweat instantly covered his body.
Taking her shoulders in his hands he shook the dark angel. "Elizabeth," he called quietly to her, hoping to rouse her from the slumber. "Elizabeth!" Shaking harder the Warden was yelling her name as he desperately tried to wake her. But to no avail.
McNeill picked her up with one arm around the back and the other under her legs. He ran as fast as he could out of the damp dungeons and up the metal grate staircase then straight on to the hospital wing without stopping.
"Miss Adams!" the Warden yelled out as he ran down the stairs leading to the hospital. "Miss Adams!" He ran straight through to the treatment room and put Elizabeth down on a bed, she had felt like nothing more than a feather in his arms.
As Miss Adams walked out of her medicine room she saw the Warden carefully laying Elizabeth's unconscious body down on a bed. Immediately she ran straight over to the two of them. "What happened?" fear shining through in her Irish voice. "What have you done?"
"I didn't touch her Shirley I swear to god I didn't touch her. I couldn't lay a finger on her."
"But you tried?" Miss Adams accused with a defiant glare and looked down at the cuts across Elizabeth's still exposed stomach.
Some of the cuts were deeper than the intended scratches McNeill saw as his dark angel lay on the bed in the stark lighting of the treatment room.
For the first time in his whole career, McNeill paused, not knowing what to say. He felt ashamed of himself for the first time in years. "Yes, I tried." He watched Miss Adams run her finger through the blood slowly dripping from the slashes he had made with his knife. "That was me, please don't ask me what I was planning to do. I still don't know why I even did it," the Warden whispered in his ashamed tone.
"If you're lucky Warden then maybe she's just fainted from the shock of everything that she has been through with you and this horrible prison." Miss Adams looked up at the Warden, her black ringlets of hair were tied back into a ponytail behind her white nursing cap that was pinned to the top of her hair, her thick Irish accent emphasizing slightly on the vowels of each word. "You have no idea what sort of stress you have put on this poor woman over the past six months Warden, physically and emotionally. I'll keep a close eye on her all the same Mr. McNeill."
"Miss Adams, I swear to god I didn't touch her other than those cuts," the Warden pleaded for the pretty woman's belief in him as much as he pleaded for the Gods in the heavens above to believe him. He felt physically sick at what his rage had caused him to do.
"I certainly hope not Warden." The nurse had begun to clean the thin and long cuts with a piece of gauze soaked in saline. "If she really does mean as much to you as you say she does."
McNeill was pacing the room now, frustration and confusion painfully evident in his features as well as his slumped posture. Up and down the treatment room he paced for minutes without speaking a word as Miss Adams attended to Elizabeth's wounds.
"There's nothing you can do for her now Warden. You might as well go and do something that needs doing sir," Miss Adams informed McNeill as she looked up and saw him pacing the room and occasionally muttering to himself. His footfalls were disturbing her concentration as she assessed the damage inflicted upon the dark angel.
The Warden immediately stopped pacing and stared at the floor deep in thought about everything that had happened in the past six months of Elizabeth being on Alcatraz Island. "Make sure you call me the second she wakes up Miss Adams," he whispered quietly to the nurse before the Warden ran out of the treatment room and headed straight for his office.
"Don't sit by the phone," Miss Adams whispered quietly to herself as she took Elizabeth's hand in her own and squeezed it tightly. Silently she prayed for the beautiful woman to come through healthy and well. Putting Elizabeth's hand back on the bed the nurse continued to clean and stitch the lacerations the sharp pocket knife had caused.
After cleaning the dark angel's cuts and placing a few stitches in the deeper ones to hold them together, Miss Adams sat next to Elizabeth on a hard plastic chair while she lay in the small hospital bed. The Irish nurse hoped as much as McNeill that she really would wake up, but they both knew the chances of that happening were going to be minimal.
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