Page 96 of A Taste like Sin

I hesitate near the door for at least an hour, wringing my fingers to the point of pain. Finally, I step

inside, steeling myself for whatever I might find.

“No change,” Diane says tiredly as I approach.

Daddy’s eyes are open, staring blankly even as she strokes her hand along his cheek.

“I’m going to go get some lunch, darling.” She smothers a yawn into her palm and forces a smile.

“Want anything?”

I shake my head and settle into the other chair pulled up to his bedside. For what feels like hours, I

stroke the back of his hand, searching his empty eyes for any hint of life. God, there are so many

questions I need to ask, but when I finally gather the nerve to voice one, all I can think to say is,

“Why?” My finger shakes, tracing the path of his cheek to no response. “Why, Daddy? Were you sent

to find me for a reason? Was this all just some twisted game—just tell me why!”

“Is everything all right?”

I look over to find a nurse at the door, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m fine,” I say, swiping at the tears welling in my eyes. “We’re fine.” Once she’s gone, I admit, “I

went to the safety deposit box,” directing the words at my lifeless father. “I saw the page you had

hidden there. But why? What is it you couldn’t tell me?”

I wait—a folly that doesn’t sink in until one of the machines monitoring his vitals shrieks, sounding an

alarm. The nurse returns to fix it. Leaves again. And I laugh, shaking my head.

“I’m crazy.” Sighing, I withdraw my hand and start to stand. “I’m going crazy—”

“Dead.” The raspy voice echoes like a gunshot.

I jump, scanning the room for an intruder, but all I find is shadow. Shadow and…

A pale hand that lurches toward me, grasping mine so tightly that I gasp.

“D-Daddy?”

His cold, blue eyes turn to me, blinking. “Dead,” he croaks again. “He’s dead…he’s dead. He’s

dead!”

More alarms go off from various machines and an army of nurses races into the room, scrambling to

quiet them.

“I’m going to ask you to step outside, dear,” one of them says, guiding me to the door.

Even in the hallway, I can hear him. Shouting. Screaming in an eerie refrain.

“He’s dead!”