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MidReal Story
The Countdown to Life
Scenario:My father died and I began to cough like him.
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Mary Carter
grieving widow and mother, wife to Thomas, medium build with sad eyes, supportive and loving
Emily Carter
central character, daughter of deceased, short brown hair, green eyes, introverted but resilient
Thomas Carter
deceased father, husband to Mary, tall with greying hair, kindhearted and strong
I coughed, and my father died.
It was a simple as that.
One moment he was lying in his hospital bed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, and the next moment he was gone.
My mother and I were sitting on either side of him, holding his hands, waiting for the end, when I coughed.
It wasn’t even a loud cough.
Just a small one, really.
But it was enough to make my mother turn her head and glare at me.
She’d been glaring at me a lot lately.
Ever since my father got sick.
And now she’d never stop.
I knew that without even looking at her face.
I knew it in my bones.
I knew it in my soul.
I squeezed my father's hand, feeling the warmth slip away.
"Emily," my mother whispered, her voice trembling.
I looked up at her, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were fixed on my father's lifeless face.
"Mom..." I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look.
"Don't," she said. "Just don't."
The room felt colder, the silence of the machines now a cruel reminder of what we had lost. I felt a tickle in my throat again and tried to swallow it down.
"I need some air," I muttered, standing up.
Mary didn't respond. She just sat there, staring at Dad as if willing him to come back. I backed out of the room, the door clicking softly behind me. The hallway was empty and eerily quiet. I leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths.
"Hey, you okay?" a nurse asked, walking by with a clipboard.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. She gave me a sympathetic smile and continued on her way. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside me.
"Emily!" My mother's voice was sharp and close. I opened my eyes to see her standing in the doorway, her face twisted with grief and anger.
"What?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"How could you just leave like that?" she demanded. "Your father just died!"
"I needed a moment," I said defensively. "I'm grieving too, you know."
She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You always need a moment. Always running away when things get tough."
"That's not fair," I protested. "I've been here every day."
"But never really here," she snapped. "Always distracted, always coughing."
I stared at her, stunned by her words. "What are you talking about?"
She took a step closer, her eyes wild. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
I felt another cough coming and turned away from her, covering my mouth with my hand. When it passed, I looked back at her.
"Mom... please," I said softly. "This isn't helping."
She let out a bitter laugh. "Helping? Nothing can help now."
I reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away as if I'd burned her.
"Don't," she said again, her voice breaking. "Just don't."
I watched helplessly as she walked back into the room and closed the door behind her. I sank to the floor, my head in my hands. The pain in my chest was getting worse, each breath feeling like fire.
"Emily?" A familiar voice called out softly.