Page 106 of Ruthless Lullaby

I run to her, tears pouring down my face as I wrap her in a warm hug. My beautiful mother is warm and alive in my arms, full of life. I can even feel the steadiness of her heartbeat against my own.

"I don't get it," I say, pulling back to stare at her with awe. "The doctor said..." My words drift off as I stop myself from saying something that might upset her. I decide to change the subject instead. "Did you hear what I told you earlier, Mom?” I ask, squeezing her hand. “About the baby?"

Her touch on my cheek is warm and comforting. Her eyes glisten with love and pride. "I heard everything you said, honey. Every word, every tear, every secret you shared." She gently strokes my face. "And guess what? I'm going to be a grandmother."

I blink, still in disbelief over her sudden recovery. "Mom, that's amazing! I never thought this could be possible," I exclaim.

She chuckles and winks at me. "Well, anything is possible when you have a daughter as wonderful as you are."

I move in again to embrace her. Tears stream down our faces as we laugh and cry in the grim hospital environment. Nothing else matters in this moment, not even the pain, the fear, or the uncertainty that’s been suffocating me. All I want to feel is my mother's warmth enveloping me, assuring me that she's here to stay.

"I’m so relieved you feel better," I whisper as I wipe away my tears of joy.

"Never felt better, my dear," she booms, but her expression suddenly shifts, and a flicker of sadness crosses her face. "But Alexis... she just disappeared. Do you know where she is?"

Shit.

How do I even begin to explain this to her? Do I tell her that we had a major fight and she stormed off while our mother was lying on her deathbed? Do I tell her that she decided to blackmail me for money so that she can buy herself drugs? Do I tell her that she would sell her own mother’s organs on the black market just to pay her dealer?

My mind frantically scrambles for a convenient lie, but I can’t make anything up. Yet, despite everything she's done to me, my heart still yearns for my sister. Not for present-day Alexis, of course. I miss theoldAlexis. The one I grew up with.

I clear my throat. "Let me call her, Mom."

I pull out my phone and dial Alexis' number with shaking fingers. I wait for the phone to ring once, twice, three times… till it eventually goes to voicemail. "Please leave a message after the beep,"Alexis' voice says.

I don't leave a message.

I slip the phone back into my purse, deciding it’s probably better this way. The way Alexis is now, she would only taint our mother’s miraculous recovery. But as I sit here, a sudden shift in the air unsettles me - an eerie chill, an odd premonition that something is about to slip away, like sand through an hourglass.

I look up, and a surge of fear grips my heart. My mother has slumped back against the pillows. Her breathing sounds labored, and the light in her eyes has dimmed. Her skin, flushed with color and life just minutes ago, is now pale and has taken on a waxy sheen. It’s as if the vitality has drained from her in just a few seconds.

Mom?" I ask, my voice trembling with panic. "Mom, what's happening? Is something wrong?"

She doesn't respond. Her gaze is distant and unfocused. I immediately reach for the red call button, my fingers fumbling in my haste and desperation. "Help!" I shout, my voice cracking with terror. "Someone, please help!"

In less than ten seconds, a nurse rushes in. Her face is set in a grim mask of professionalism as she observes the scenebefore her. She quickly checks my mother's vitals, her fingers flying over the machines and monitors with practiced ease. But even though she does everything she needs to, even though she calls for a doctor and begins to administer an emergency treatment, I just know. I know the truth in the marrow of my bones.

This is it.

This is the moment I feared. The moment my mother, my beautiful, loving, generous mother slips away.

The next twenty minutes are a blur. Dr. Walker and another nurse rush in, exchanging hurried words, most of which are medical jargon I don’t understand. They check her pulse, make sure she’s comfortable, administer the correct dose of morphine, and leave. In the end, the only person who stays with me is the first nurse who came in to help.

"I don't understand," I sob, clutching my hands at the side of my mother’s bed. "She was just… she was just talking to me, laughing and smiling. She seemed so full of life. How can… how can this happen so quickly?"

The nurse places her arm on my shoulder. Her eyes are soft with sympathy. "It's called terminal lucidity," she says gently."And you were one of the few lucky ones to witness it."

I shake my head, struggling to process her words. "Terminal lucidity?"

"Yes," she says. "Sometimes, patients brighten up just before… before they go." Her hand rests on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "It's as if they're given one last burst of energy, one final chance to say goodbye to their loved ones."

I feel my heart shatter into pieces. Why? Why would the universe be so cruel, so twisted, as to give us hope only to snatch it away at the last moment?

"But… how?" I ask, even though I know it’s a pointless question.

The nurse shakes her head. “I wish I had answers for you, Miss Williams. Sometimes, the power of love can work wonders even the best doctors can't explain.” She pauses, then continues, almost as if talking to herself. “The only thing we can do is cherish every moment we have with the ones we love.”

My throat is tight. "Thank you," I manage. "I think I needed that."

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