The Choice of Death
I tried to grab the phone, then the bed.
Nothing.
That was when I finally understood.
I was dead.
A gust of wind blew through, sweeping me away. Before I knew it, I had drifted to Nathan's side.
He sat at Trinity's hospital bed, carefully spooning porridge to her lips. Mom stood beside them, watching with warmth and approval in her eyes. The cozy, picturesque scene stung me deeper than my own death.
Nathan's assistant, Jake Wells, walked in and leaned toward him. "Mr. Heath, we've delivered the food to Ms. Tegan."