Her Swimmer

He's dead

A/N: I don't remember if i gave Talia's parents names so the name for her father may be different if i have cos i honestly don't remember it

The cab pulled up to the hospital, and Talia handed over the fare with trembling hands. She stood at the entrance for a moment, looking up at the looming building, before forcing herself to walk inside. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of hospital machinery greeted her as she made her way to the reception desk.

"I'm here to see Colin Sterling," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The receptionist looked at her with a kind but distant expression, typing something into the computer before directing her to the right floor. Talia's feet felt like lead as she walked to the elevator, the minutes stretching into eternity.

When the elevator doors opened, she was greeted by the sight of a long corridor lined with closed doors. The walls were a pale, washed-out green, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly. Room 312 was at the end of the hall. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she approached it, each step bringing her closer to the inevitable.

Talia stepped into the hospital room, the door closing softly behind her. The air was thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic, the quiet hum of machines filling the silence. Her father lay in the bed, his once imposing frame reduced to a frail, shadowed figure beneath the thin sheets. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, each one a struggle. The sight of him like this should have stirred some kind of emotion in her—grief, pity, maybe even compassion—but all she felt was a cold, hollow emptiness.

His eyes fluttered open as she approached the bed, focusing on her with a mix of confusion and recognition. He blinked, his brow furrowing as he tried to process her presence.

"Why are you here?" His voice was rough, barely a rasp.

Talia pulled a chair close to his bed, sitting down slowly, her eyes locked on his. She had imagined this moment so many times, but now that it was here, it felt surreal. "You're dying," she said simply, her tone flat. "Of course I'm going to be here."

His lip curled into a weak sneer. "I didn't ask you to."

She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. "I know."

A tense silence settled between them, thick with years of unspoken anger and unresolved pain. His breath rattled in his chest, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "I don't want you here," he said, the words filled with a venom that made the corners of her mouth twitch into a smirk.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a cold detachment. "I don't want to be here," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

"Then why are you?" he demanded, his voice strained, as if the effort of speaking was too much for him.

Talia leaned forward, her smirk widening into something more sinister. Her hand moved to the bed, fingers lightly tracing the tubes and wires connected to the machines that kept him alive. She watched as his eyes followed her movements, a flicker of fear creeping into his gaze.

"Because now," she began, her voice low and almost taunting, "you're the one in pain. Wishing, hoping, begging for it all to end." She leaned in closer, her hand pressing down slightly on his chest, just enough to cause him discomfort. His face contorted in pain, but he said nothing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "And I'm the one standing over you, having your whole life in my hands."

She tugged at one of the wires, just enough for him to feel the shift in the air, the power she held over him. His eyes widened in terror, and for a moment, Talia saw the man she had feared for so long reduced to nothing more than a weak, helpless figure. The irony wasn't lost on her.