“It’s time we faced the harsh truth.” The voice belongs to Ryan – my eldest. Through stiffened peripheries I observe a sharp suit and shiny watch. He’s already started drawing down against the inheritance (presumptuous little …).
“How can you say that? For all you know he’s in there, listening to every word we say.” Rachel – The difficult middle child – young, intense, a martyr – whipping herself with chains on my behalf.
Machines continue to beep and daytime TV continues to prepare me for Purgatory. Something malevolent is drifting ever closer, wearing the guise of ambivalence, but mercilessly fixated upon switching me off.