The respirator was all that moved.
I sat by my aunt's side. I don't know if she knew I was there. Her eyes were closed. Her right hand laid on her chest over hear heart. He left hand rested in mine.
I felt the slightest hint of her grasping me back when I clasped my hand around hers. It was all that kept me sitting there, now, two hours later.
Growing up, visiting Aunt Hailey was always the highlight of the summer. She worked as flight attendant and was busy during most of the holidays, but come late July, she always took a month off and she'd spend it with me and my younger brother. We began calling her "Aunt Hay Hay" at a young age. It was a nickname that didn't serve any other purpose other than to make me and Timmy laugh. The way we'd shout it and the way she'd say, "hey, hey!", back . It filled us with such bursts of joy that we would run around all day, for hours on end, shouting it mercilessly back and forth at each other.
"Hey, Aunt Hay Hay!"
"Hey, hey!"
Over and over again. How she didn't pop a blood vessel in her brain, indulging us over and over like that, I'll never know.
How all these years later she managed to have sudden, complete organ failure... That I do know.
It all started with her heart. Once you lose that, nothing else has any reason to fight.
She was just a year into her fifties, I think I remember showing up one time and seeing photos of her with friends and 50th birthday cake. We weren't at her party, but I remember the photos.
What happened happened some time after that.
It was an overcast day, but warm. The clouds were yellow. The air was electric .
It was the last day I ever saw Timmy alive.
YOU ARE READING
Under
Mystery / ThrillerIt all started with her final three words. "He was mine." It led to her house. The basement was where we found him. The basement was where we left him. The basement is where I thought it was all going to end...
