Page 66 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne

We’ve been holding vigil at his bedside for nearly twenty-four hours and he hasn’t opened his eyes or even stirred in all that time. He just sleeps, his mouth slack and hanging slightly open. At first, I’d wipe the corners of his mouth with the little handkerchief that was always folded in a neat triangle and kept in his pocket. But now there’s no need.

He’s getting dehydrated.

A small tuft of his thin grey hair is sticking up at an odd angle, so I reach out and smooth it into place while my otherhand holds his. He looks so small, so fragile, and all I want to do is crawl up onto the bed next to him just like I did when I was a child.

I want to hold on to him and not let go.

My thumb absently strokes the dry skin on the back of his hand and my belly rumbles quietly. An unopened sandwich rests on the table next to me along with my untouched cup of tea. It feels like time has stopped. All I can see is Dad, tucked under his blanket, his chest rising and falling slowly.

Minutes tick away and I feel like I’m caught in a strange kind of limbo, caught between numbness and the first vague tinges of panic. Panic which I’m trying to keep at bay. I’m so focused on the rhythmic movement of Dad’s chest that, at first, I don’t register what I’m hearing.

There’s the soft comforting rumble of Danny’s voice behind me as he comes to the end of a chapter, but underneath that there’s… it comes again… a change in Dad’s breathing…

A small catch every other breath.

Suddenly he twitches, his brow furrowing and his head turning to the side. His arm flails and I lose my loose grip on his hand. His breathing becomes uneven and he lets out a strange kind of gasp, then flails again.

The realisation comes to me in a rush as I listen to him. He’s not cognisant enough to understand what’s happening to him, but subconsciously, he’s panicking because he can’t breathe.

Without thinking, I stand, kick off my shoes, and climb onto the bed bedside him. Carefully lifting his head, I slide one arm under him, and wrap my other arm gently across him, stroking his arm soothingly.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I whisper as I hold him close.

Danny has stopped reading and moves closer to the bed, sitting in the chair on the other side of the bed so I face him withDad in my arms between us. He gently takes Dad’s hand and strokes his skin, just as I am.

“It’s okay, Dad. Don’t be scared,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You’re not alone. I’m right here with you.”

I look up and, standing behind Danny, I see Dustin, his Dusty persona conspicuously absent. He’s dressed in jeans and a plain dark grey t-shirt, his face bare of makeup, his short brown hair on display rather than his signature wig, and his brown eyes shiny with tears as he watches me hold my dad.

Suddenly, he turns his head and I follow his gaze to find Death standing at the foot of the bed. My stomach clenches tightly as I look quickly away, and a renewed sense of panic wells in my chest. This time I don’t fight the tears that begin to fall freely.

I’m not ready.

Dad is fighting it, he’s twitching, and I can feel him rigid in my arms.

“Ssush,” I soothe him, whispering in his ear, trying to keep calm for him. “It’s okay. Just listen to my voice. Don’t be scared. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”

I can barely see him through the tears, but slowly I feel his body start to relax. I know Danny and Dustin are both watching me but I can’t acknowledge them. I can’t even look at them.

If I do, I’ll break.

“Sshush.” I kiss Dad’s forehead. Listen to his breathing change again. It’s gone from a little hitch to skipping every other breath. My heart starts pounding because I know this is it, and something inside me cracks in half.

“I love you, Dad. I love you so much.”

His head shifts toward me and he opens his eyes. In that moment, I don’t breathe. He’s looking right at me…

As he takes his last breath.

The sudden silence of the room is deafening. I glance at the end of the bed to find that Death is gone. And so is Dad. No bright light, no last glimpse of my father’s spirit as he crosses over. Nothing, just emptiness and pain. So much pain. It crashes over me, almost driving the air from my lungs. I wrap my arms around Dad’s limp body and press my face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

The howl of anguish that tears from somewhere deep inside me is shocking. I open my mouth and the sound escapes, followed by deep, choking sobs that feel like they’re never going to end.

I can feel Danny’s hands on me and Dustin stroking my hair, but I can’t speak, can’t acknowledge them in any way, and I don’t have to. They both keep their hands resting on me, grounding me as I drown in my grief.

16

Iwalk through the door and into the flat, but everything inside me feels numb. Danny sets our bag down and I can feel Dustin hovering, but I’ve got no words for either of them. Shrugging out of my jacket, I aim it towards the coat rack by the door but I miss and it slips to the floor in a crumpled heap.