Wanted

The below is a piece of flash fiction, which was shortlisted in the Michael Mullan Charity Fund Writing Competition last year

I stroked hair from her face, then pushed up her top and slid the needle into her skin. I left it there, waited for a sign, for her eyelids to flutter, her lips to move. But Kayla barely budged, just stared blankly ahead at the television.

I slopped the baked beans from the saucepan onto the plate, accompanied by a single slice of bread.

‘Eat up.’

She still didn’t acknowledge me or the food.

‘I said, eat!’

Finally, she picked up her spoon with a shaky hand and poked the beans around, examining the dish closer. Then she pointed the dripping spoon at the television screen. My face was splattered across it.

WANTED

Heart thumping, I scrambled for the remote and turned the volume up. Crime Watch had released footage of me wearing a hoodie and Phillies baseball cap. I was squinting up through the rain and staring straight at a camera mounted high above an ATM. I had taken my mask off at this stage. Idiot! The picture quality was poor but I was still identifiable. A cop asked for the public’s help and offered a reward for information and subsequent conviction.

‘Put on your coat... Now!’

Kayla hurried to one side of the room. I ran to the other and opened the fridge. Every shelf was vacant except for one stocking nine small cardboard boxes and a carton of milk long past its expiration date. I flung the boxes into a plastic bag. The milk stayed put. I looked over at Kayla who laid on the mattress on the floor and bit into her fist to stop herself from sobbing.

‘You don’t listen to a word I say! Get up!’

I grabbed her by the arm and hauled her upright. She couldn’t stifle her protest at my tight grasp as I dragged her to the front door and yanked it open. The muffled sound of voices drifted down the corridor towards us. We didn’t get far when my landlord came into view. Two cops were walking behind him. The plastic bag dropped from my trembling fingers and landed with a thud on the floor, exposing the stolen boxes of insulin pens. Those elixirs of life I held so dear scattered across the dusty thick brown carpet. In a blur of swinging arms and fists, in the midst of cantankerous yelling, a scuffle broke out in the corridor. But I was outnumbered and apprehended.

They escorted Kayla back into the apartment while I was read my Miranda rights. Before I was handcuffed, I wiped away tears from my eyes only for more tears to flow.

‘Is there someone we can call to take your daughter, Mr. Miller?’

All the panic and fear bubbled up in my throat. I couldn’t speak so I shook my head.

‘What about her Mom? Is she around?’

I shook my head again. She had diabetes, too.

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I'm posting this story as part of Diabetes Awareness Month. Those who know me will know I have Type 1 diabetes. Nearly 9 million people across the globe live with Type 1 diabetes - and millions still don't have adequate access to life-saving insulin and critical technology. For example, the high costs of insulin in the United States means that more than a million Americans must ration it and put their lives at risk. Thankfully, T1D medication is free in Ireland.

T1D Statistics: https://www.t1dindex.org/

T1D Signs & Symptoms: https://www.jdrf.org/t1d-resources/about/symptoms/