Arthur: Ahhh! What did you do?! Someone stop him!
Dr. Vance: Hey! Stop! Are you insane, kid?!
Dr. Hayes: Somebody get that rock away from him right now!
The heart monitors began to beep rapidly as Arthur's heart rate spiked, his hands clutching the white bed sheets in frantic panic. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks as he pulled himself up against the pillows, gasping for air.
Dr. Miller: Security! Call security to Room 402 immediately!
Leo: It wasn't healing! You were all lying!
Before any of the startled adult men could grab his arm, Leo lifted the heavy rock a second time and smashed it down onto the cracked plaster with even greater aggression. The loud impact split the white shell completely in two, sending thick chunks of dry plaster crumbling across the bed sheets and onto the floor.
Arthur: Stop! Oh God, my leg!
Dr. Vance: Kid, move back right now!
Doctor Vance grabbed Leo by his shoulders, pulling the young boy firmly away from the bed. The heavy rock slipped from Leo's fingers, thudding onto the linoleum floor. But the damage was already done. The plaster cast had crumbled away entirely, leaving Arthur's bare left leg exposed on the white bed sheets among the broken white debris.
Leo: Look at it! All of you, just look at his leg!
Dr. Hayes: What in the world...
The room suddenly fell into a strange, suffocating silence. Doctor Hayes stepped closer to the edge of the bed, his mouth falling open as he stared down at the bare limb. There were no surgical scars, no swelling, no bruising, and no signs of muscle atrophy whatsoever. The leg looked completely healthy, tone, and robust.
Dr. Miller: There's no fracture... there was never a fracture...
Leo: Move them, Grandpa. Move your toes right now.
Arthur froze, his hands trembling against the sheets. His face went pale as he looked from the crumbling plaster on the bed to the stern, intense gaze of his ten-year-old grandson standing between the doctors.
Leo: So... why were you pretending?