Flash. Click. Beep, beep, beep.
Hands clammy, head spinning, heart clenching. Three steps out, three steps in. Breaths quicken, eyes widen. Bright white hospital lights close in, painfully blinding until they’re not. Pupils adjust, gaze falls unwillingly onto the only other living creature in the room.
She’s there.
She? No, no, that isn’t right. It is there.
It’s there, that thing, that dying demon who has plagued my dreams for far too long. That shriveled husk, thin and weak, face wrinkled, legs crooked, joints creaking like old floorboards, now lying helplessly prone on its little hospital bed. Ha. Haha. It’s funny, really, how miserable it looks now. Truly, something like that does not deserve to feel miserable, not after all it has done. For years, I’ve resolved myself to move on, to forget that excuse of a human being. To wipe my memory of the hopeless addict who let my father die and tossed me aside as soon as the cost of our lives could be traded for the flip of a coin. In the last twenty years, I have not thought of it even once.
Until yesterday. That call.
And now, I—I, who has tried so desperately to forget—am standing right in front of it.
“Why… hello… there. Who”—a cacophony comprised mainly of breathless throat hacking fills the room—“might you be?”
And just like that, the hatred, which simmered for years beneath the surface until it was almost room temperature, boils over. I clench my fists, now acutely aware of the poisonous seeds buried deep in my gut. Seeds that have been constantly watered and fertilized by suppressed memories and emotions, seeds that were now threatening to burst forth into a rage-consumed bloom.
“Are—are you really asking me that?!” Angry black flowers writhe around my stomach, growing ever nearer to my heart. “You’re lucky I came to see you at all, even if it was just to confirm that you’re finally dying.” Poisoned saplings infect my mind. Too late. I can’t stop now. “After what you did, to me, to Dad—”
“Oh… I—see. So you’re… the last one.”
“What?”
“The last… brat of mine. What, did”—more throat hacking, then a few labored exhales—“did you think… you were the only…?”
I can’t breathe. Even looking like this, it is the same. Vineyards of vitriol take rapid root throughout my trembling body, spines of hatred and thorns of rage embed themselves into my shaking bones. Waves of emotion build and build and build, screaming as they rip apart the very fabric of my being, growing louder and louder and louder into an unbearable crescendo—
“Ah… the last one, huh. My… last regret.” It smiles, slowly. “So you are still alive… as well. That’s… good. Finally, I can… have some rest.”
Wait.
Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait. What did that thing just—is it just going to—
A deep, satisfied breath. Eyes flutter shut.
“I… am sorry.”
Beeeeeeeeeeeep.
What.
I stand there, completely silent. Dumbstruck. Unable to comprehend. It was gone. Finally, it was gone. Finally, for once, at last, that evil existence would no longer saturate my mind. I should be happy. I should be jumping for joy, elated beyond elation, more ecstatic than ever.
But… but for some reason, the black flowers still twist my gut, the poisonous saplings still eat my mind, the vitriolic vines still bind my soul. There is no satisfaction, no victory, no peace to be had. It feels… empty. Everything is so empty. A tear threatens to escape my eye.
Ha! What in the—a tear? How, how could this be? Even after all these years, all my suffering, this woman—
I fight the urge to laugh. I see. So that’s how it is.
She is dead. My mother is dead.
My family is gone.
I am… alone.
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