...
❝He was the poison I was dying to taste on my lips.❞
...
I was a coward.
The coward who wanted to leave behind the wreckage of her life for the man who had tormented her for as long as she could remember. The boy who had spit venom at me gro...
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july 2012 — age seventeen
POISON.
It was a deadly thing. Even a small dose was more than enough to cause complete and utter destruction. And in my mother's case, death. Poison wreaked its toxic dance all over us and I was there once again, sitting desolate in a hospital waiting room.
I thought I'd been ready for this moment but even two years weren't enough to prepare for the inevitable. No time was. My dad had walked into her room ten minutes ago, leaving me to sit and wait, fidgeting with anxiety. Even he felt like my enemy at that moment, stealing some of the precious, last moments with her that I selfishly wanted for myself. The door clicked open and my father stepped out frantically, a loud screeching noise escaping the room as he yelled for a doctor. A couple of nurses rushed down the corridor and he stuttered about how she couldn't breathe and the ventilator wasn't doing its damn job. Their wide eyes told me how unprepared they'd been for this moment and I stood there like a moron, torn between comforting my father and simply being with my mother.
The doctor who'd entered walked out after a few minutes, solemn yet apologetic. "I'm sorry. Her heart rate has begun to steadily decrease. She has a couple of minutes at best and—"
I was already pushing past the doctor, running over to my mother, terrified that I'd lose her without being there for her in her last moments.
"Amma." I gasped, sinking down on the chair beside her bed. "You promised. Amma, you promised. You told me that you would always be with me. Please don't leave."
She struggled to breathe, opening her mouth to respond and lifted her arm. "Ishu... Y-Your a—"
She broke into a painful coughing fit, face the colour of ash once again and looking like the shell of the woman I'd once known.
"Don't—don't." Cough. "P-please." Cough. "I-Ishu, y-you have to—"
She couldn't get her words out and only a muffled sob escaped her. In the end, all she said was, "P-please. I love y-you, I-Ishwarya."
"I love you, ma." I rubbed her hand gently, noticing a bruise on her bicep. It made me frown but I couldn't conjure the energy to question it and just breathed in her scent, wanting to tell her so much but knowing I wouldn't have the time. She heaved in another strangled breath and I waited for her to cough again, not expecting the heart monitor to let out a loud bleep as the heart rate flattened.
"Ma?" I whispered, a loud drum pounding in my ears. "Amma?"
I shot up, pushing the chair back with a loud screech.
