Dinner on Friday

31. Carla

FROM THIS DAY FORWARD

Mathias grabbed my arm forcefully, and before I could protest, he plunged the needle deep, searing past skin and muscle.

Liquid fire coursed through my veins, concentrating on the spot where the needle had punctured my skin. In agony, a hoarse scream left my throat.

"Shh, little bird," Mathias whispered before running his callused finger gently down the side of my face.

The fiery tendrils of pain intensified. "What is that? What's in the needle?

"The same poison they used on my wife. She's lucky to be alive. You might not be so lucky. There's a 50-50 chance you're going to die right now."

The room spun as the venomous concoction continued its journey through my veins, leaving me gasping for breath. "W-what do you mean?"

"I had two syringes. Two doses. One deadly. I don't know which one you got, but it won't be long before we know. Any last words?"

Last words?

Uh, yeah, words that were spoken before someone died. Swan song. Last hurrah.

The were so many things I wanted to say to one person in particular.

I couldn't answer, my tongue heavier than a bolder. My words suffocated. I'd been mute before, but this was nothing compared to that. The pain and the impending doom that accompanied it were difficult to ignore.

As the poison spread, the room blurred into a nightmarish haze. The large figure of Mathias's body loomed in front of me as the edges of consciousness threatened to slip away.

I didn't fully understand why he was doing this to me. If I was going to die in pain and agony, I should at least know why.

Mathias said that women who were associated with the clan through blood or marriage didn't live long. But why take matters into his own hands? Why hurt his nephew who had been through so much already?

I coughed and as the pain ebbed a little, I noticed that paralization had set in. I could no longer feel my extremities.

Wiggle, wiggle. Nada.

Panic bubbled like oil in a heated pan, gradually intensifying, threatening to ignite.

"Are you thirsty, little bird? I think you are." He turned and came back with a bottle of water. He gripped my chin and brought the bottle to my lips. I was parched but my mouth refused to cooperate. Water ran down the corners of my lips in rivers and what little bit of water I managed to take in, I couldn't swallow.

"You're making a mess," Mathias said harshly. "Should I help you clean it up?" He held the bottle at my lips, fully knowing I couldn't drink it. Any reflexes to wrap my lips around the bottle opening or swallow were non-existent.

I sputtered as water slipped down my throat involuntarily. The coughing fit that followed was long and torturous. The burning sensation at the back of my throat was difficult to ignore. It was the only thing I could feel at this point. Everything else had gone numb.

I couldn't feel the cold emanating off the thick walls. Couldn't feel the heat in my veins. Or the quick draft of air hissing in and out of my nostrils.

"This drug is powerful, Carla. At the right concentration, death occurs within five minutes. At least, that's what the guy with the lab in his basement told me." Mathias grinned. "And you don't look good at all. I'm curious. Let's give it two more minutes and see what happens."

My breath labored, sluggered, and then shallowed. A soft wheezing sound emanated from my mouth with each breath I took.

"Looks like the poison is working, little bird. Are you sure you don't have any last words?" He took a step forward and touched my cheek, his fingertips trailing down the side of my neck. "You're colder than ice."