Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“If I’m in a coma, end it.”
“You could be in a coma for a few days, maybe a week or two.”
I nod. “Two weeks, not a day longer. You have a life. Your debt will more than be paid.”
Deep worry lines cut across his forehead. I think they’re nearly permanent by now. I know I’m asking something so much bigger than what I did for him. But I’m desperate.
“When?” he asks.
“After dinner.”
His Adam’s apple bobs before he nods.
“Let’s eat.”
Another nod.
We order food from my favorite restaurant. Dessert too. As he pours himself a glass of wine, I give him a look.
“I need your mind clear to save me,” I say.
He laughs, pouring the wine to the very top of the glass. “I need to relax so I can go through with this. If I can’t suffocate you, I can’t resuscitate you.”
I chew a bite of food before wiping my mouth. “I bet that’s a phrase you’ve never said before now.”
Felix frowns just before taking a long swig of his wine.
“You’ll be good at this. Winston Jeffries used to drink heavily before poisoning the girls. I remembered that a few weeks ago. Never told anyone. But now I know why I’ve had no desire to drink. He was so messed-up. Everything’s come in pieces to me. A puzzle. A heinous puzzle. Eventually, I stopped sharing the pieces with Colten because I saw it in his eyes. The doubt. I know it pained him to have those moments, but I didn’t miss the subtle flinches, the extended looks when I interacted with his daughter. We got so good at pretending everything would be fine if we just kept …”
“Pretending?”
I nod.
“Winston was abused by his mom. Always being compared to his sister. And I think his mom got so mad at him one time, she tried to drown him in the tub. She shaved his head because he didn’t comb his hair. I never see her in the vision, but I feel his fear. One day I feel his anger, his wrath toward the girls, and the next day I feel his despair. Every inadequacy. Every inclination to end his own life.”
I poke at the food on my plate, but I’ve lost my appetite. “That would have been the better choice. It would have saved so many lives.” I glance up at Felix. “I’ve started to think that about myself. I often wonder if there’s a switch that could flip, and I’d be more him than me. What if I go from imagining self-harm to harming someone else? An animal that needs to be put down.”
“When does a killer become a killer?”
I nod. “I don’t know, but it’s always fascinated me. The conception of a killer. I used to fixate on mass shootings. I’d do so much research on the killers, trying to get inside of their heads to understand. My parents used to say understanding a killer would be impossible. Yet I felt like I could. Not like I wanted to kill anyone, just … I understood. You know?”
Felix takes several more gulps of his wine. “I’m about to find out.”
I reach for the bottle of wine.
Felix raises an eyebrow. “Shall I get you a glass?”
Bringing it to my nose, I take a slow whiff. Then … I take a sip.
And another sip.
And eventually, I consume the rest of the bottle. A nice buzz. Felix can’t kill me if his mind is clear, and I’m not sure I can die with one.
It’s bizarre how methodical we are while we finish dinner and dessert. We clear the dining room table and wash the wine glasses. I put the silverware in the dishwasher while Felix takes out the trash. Then I take a shower, shaving everything but my head.
Floss.
Brush my teeth.
Dry my hair.
I trim my fingernails and toenails.
Deodorant.
Lotion on my legs.
Why? I have no idea. It feels necessary.
We drive in silence to the storage unit. I completely undress, and Felix doesn’t question it for a second. He knows it’s easier to use the defibrillator, perform any necessary procedures, or administer medications if I am naked.
I never prepared to die the first time. I know people do it. Suicidal people. Terminally ill people. Inmates on death row.
“I need to say this,” Felix says, holding the bag in his hands while I sit on the edge of the hospital bed. “If you survive death, you will likely have severe, permanent neurological damage. Language, behavior, mood, and cognition disturbances. I don’t know what kind of life you imagine, but the chances of you miraculously coming out of this without those issues is so close to zero, I can’t put enough zeros after the decimal. I need … really need to know you understand this. I need to know this is what you want. I need to know you are making this decision with a sound mind.”