Morphine (Complete)

𝟏𝟕

Chapter Seventeen

The sound of his heartbeat was torture to her ears.

Rannia lounged in the chair by the uncle's bedside, cheek on one hand as she waited, mood sour, face turned, for Carter to leave the room.

The old man had been put on intensive care—hah, almost dead, but not quite. Her lips quirked into the fakest of all smiles as she pretended to be happy that he was alive. Carter was on his knees by his uncle's bed, teary eyes staring at the man's ghostly face. He was alive, but barely. A limp body could barely be considered alive. One snap, one tube removed, and he was dead. That wasn't truly alive. That was dependent.

Rannia sneered.

That was pathetic.

"I'm so glad you found him," Carter confessed softly. "I know he's just my uncle...but he's family. I can't help but love and care about him."

Rannia's brow rose the slightest bit. Her head quirked. "I didn't find him. I was with him when he...um, dropped."

"Still." Carter rose and turned to face Rannia, cheeks red from all his tears. He walked up to her and held her hands in his, clasping them together in a begging position. "I really, really love you."

Rannia forced her lips to loosen into a smile. "You're all tired." She slipped her hands out of his and brushed a strand of his hair away from his face. "He'll be fine. I'm here. Go get some rest on a couch or something."

Carter faltered. "I-I do love you, you know?" He swallowed nervously.

Rannia pressed a finger to his lips. She was grinning a little. She'd done it. She'd made an Amir fall blindly in love with her.

"I know. I love you too." She leaned up and placed a peck on his cheek. "Now go."

Carter bobbed his head obediently and rushed out of the room. Rannia paused, glanced around the room, smiled. Alone. She was alone. Standing, she calmly walked towards the hospital room's door and shut it softly, eyes falling to the ground as the final click on the lock was made.

"I know you're awake, you bastard."

She turned to face the slanted eyes of Uncle Amir. His mind was groggy, a puddle within a pond. He tried to part his lips only to be stopped by the machine around his jaw.

He wasn't in a coma. A miracle, the doctor's had said. Rannia found it a little bothersome, but perhaps having him awake during his final moments would make the extra effort worth it.

She slowly paced towards him, eyes dawning with sick mirth.

You deserve this, she thought to him.

Through his confusion, fear started to seep into his heart. He tried to struggle but his body wasn't moving. His legs shook a little, casting ripples along the white sheets. He did not know who she was. All he knew was fear, and that she was the source of it.

"I'll be gentle," she cooed, crouching by his beside. She stroked one finger along his cheek, finger running across the dried bloodstains of his skin. "You don't need to worry."

His heart rate monitor mourned in her ear.

Preparation dotted along his skin, the only clear sign of his stress. Well, Rannia thought to herself, the only sign besides his eyes.

His eyes were petrified.

"Do you remember a year ago? When you went out with your brother and set fire to a gas tank?" Rannia stroked under his chin, feeling along his pulse to conclude that yes, the heart rate monitor was not lying.