Chapter 1: Fading All At Once
"Why can’t you just die already?"
The cold, angry words slipped through the fog in his mind, pulling Matthew Lindberg out of the darkness. His eyelids moved, slow and heavy, like they didn’t want to open. His throat felt dry, burning. His body was still, like it wasn’t even his anymore, stuck in the hospital bed.
He could barely feel his arms or legs—just a light tingle in his fingertips. The light above him was too bright, shining off the clean white tiles. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing that told him he was still alive.
From outside the door, voices came in, quiet, but clear enough to hear.
"Is it done?" It was Catherine’s voice. It sounded soft but cold. It wasn’t the voice of the loving wife that he knew.
"The poison is slow," a surprising voice responded. Lenox. The man that he grew up with, his very own best friend. What are they talking about? Matthew thought. Then Lenox continued. "He won’t last more than a week. No one will suspect a thing."
Matthew’s chest tightened. Poison. The realization slashed through his mind, bringing with it a wave of nausea. The tea. Myka—his daughter—had given him tea just before he collapsed. He thought this was because of his disease. He never thought that they would actually poison him! His fingers twitched involuntarily.
He was dying. Helpless. Poisoned in his own home. No, that’s impossible, he thought inwardly. How could his own daughter poison him?
Then the door creaked open. He heard soft footsteps approaching him. For a moment, he wondered if he should pretend that he didn’t hear anything, pretend not to know that his own wife of thirty years wanted him dead. He swallowed. He could see her now, Catherine, dressed in red, her lips curved into a faint smile. She approached the bed, heels clicking softly against the tiles.
"Oh, you’re awake," she murmured, voice sweet and mocking. She smoothed a hand over his hair, almost affectionately. "That’s a surprise. I thought you’d be dead by now."
Matthew’s eyes burned with unshed tears. He tried to move, to scream, but only a strangled wheeze escaped his throat.