Remorse

This was my first story about euthanasia and the first in my collection. It is about the guilt that can come from such a copassionate act.

Tara Adams screamed as the IV drip was inserted.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she managed to choke out. The morphine bag was hung.

“Please, I don't want to die! There is nothing wrong with me!” The morphine started flowing through her system as it slowly began to shut down. The nurse bared rotten teeth and grinned. She spoke bluntly and obviously wasn't in this job for the people.

“Yes there is, dearie. The Alzheimer's just made you forget. You're terminally ill. We're just speeding the process along – it was what you wanted.”

“No I'm not! You must be mistaking me for someone else. Please! Stop the drip. I don't want to die now. I'm too young!” Someone behind her line of vision was holding her hand and tried to reassure her.

“It's for the best, honey. You asked for this. You didn't want to live like this anymore.”

Tara tried to shake her head, but she was weakening and in too much pain to try and speak, to take back what she had apparently said before. The morphine didn't quite have the effect she desired. Instead of numbing the pain, it enhanced it. The burning sensation was getting to be too much. She could tell it wasn't going to be a quiet death.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” she screamed as the fiery drug took over. The heart monitor suddenly beeped once, then struck one monotonous note... and held it.

 

Tara Adams woke with a gasp of air and a sigh of relief. The bed was soaking, as was she. Sweat was gushing off her and she suddenly felt cold all over. She started violently shaking, but couldn't quite reach the phone for help. A final stretch for the phone was all it took; she was on the floor now and couldn't get up. Her head hurt from where she had hit it as she fell. She wasn't surprised the nightmare had returned tonight. After all, it was the 10th anniversary of that night. It had been a decade since she last saw her father. Her brother banned her from the funeral and hadn't spoken to her since and her sister had fled the country soon after the funeral. The guilt had been too much to live with. Tara agreed, she regretted everything too. Even the sisters, who had always been the closest, didn't talk anymore; it was hard to talk when the silences between words were punctuated with what they had done, what had gone unsaid for 10 years and would continue to go unsaid.

 

Tara finally stopped shaking and managed to lift herself up, but only long enough to get on the bed before she collapsed again. She lay there in the dark trying to think happy thoughts, but none came. She just lay, silent, with her eyes open, praying not to fall asleep again and back into the dream. She tried reading, but only managed to reach for the poetry beside her bed before a long, painful shiver shot up her spine and she jerked back. As she pleaded with herself, willed herself not to give in to her tiredness, she heard a voice enter her head.

 

“This won't take a moment, dearie...”

Reviews

[Penelope Allen]

This is quite good all things considering. I don't know about the capitalization in regards to adding emphasis though. With writing - IMO - it's up to the author to create the suspense without those sort of 'hints'. I'm using hints because I can't think of a better word this morning. I did like how you made the reader look for clues as to what happened 10 years ago. I enjoyed this take on a touchy topic.

[Drew Wade]

are you seriously just 14? I can hardly believe it. Your writing is flawless, or nearly so. Really really well done. I just can't believe it. what's your method?

anyway, this was really good. I kept on expecting to find fault and couldn't, so, while that's good for you, it makes for a boring review.

peace.