Justine sat in her favourite armchair. A book on pause on the left arm, her tea resting on the small table beside her. The bruises on her arm have faded to a pale yellow but the dark circles under her eyes remain ever present. Her body longed for sleep but her mind refused to relinquish its grip.
She half-heartedly looked at the open pizza box on the coffee table, the cheese and pepperoni slid towards the gaps left by two removed slices. On the side table sat one of the slices, only two small bites taken from its tip before it was discarded. Her stomach cringed at the thought of a third bite.
Chris sat on the sofa, his slice of pizza half-eaten before his appetite vanished too. He looked to Justine, words of support burned in his chest but failed to exit his mouth. The ghost of his right leg itched. He shifted his weight in the chair in the hope it would go away.
Justine's phone buzzed. They both looked up from their silence, hope and fear etched into their faces.
"False alarm," Justine croaked, her voice tight from lack of use. She leaned back in the chair and let out a long sigh. She closed her eyes and allowed her shoulders to relax. A few slow breaths brought her heart rate back to normal.
Chris checked the time on his phone. His opioid-hampered brain struggled to perform math to calculate a rough time to expect the call. He swiped his mother's texts. There was not enough brain capacity in his head to deal with her.
The vibration of the chair snapped Justine back to the realm of the conscious. She fumbled for the phone and knocked it onto the floor. She tumbled out of the chair. Her knees cracked from the fall and refused to support her efforts to stand. With tears in her eyes, she answered the phone.
She nodded along to the voice in her ear. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip.
Chris leant forward to try and catch the words. He cursed the loudness of his heartbeat and breathing.
"Thank you," she whispered and hung up the phone. Slowly, she lowered the phone from her ear and sat it down on the coffee table.
Chris looked at her. He studied her expression, hoping for any tell as to the nature of the news.
Justine finally managed to lift herself off the floor. Her legs wobbled like jelly. She flopped back into her chair. "Tyler's out of surgery."
"That's good." Chris pinched his arm to stop his emotions from getting the better of him.
"He didn't need ICU." Justine trembled. It took a moment for her to catch her breath. "He can have visitors tomorrow."
"They got it all?"
Justine nodded, "Every last piece with no evidence of metastases."
YOU ARE READING
Throat Full of Glass | ONC 2023
Mystère / ThrillerJustine wakes up with a cracking headache and no idea where she is or what exactly went down. All she knows is there is a lot of cash kicking around in a cabin that no one has lived in for decades and more than one dead body.
