Page 3 of The Wishing Game

"He's dead, Lulu... You have to believe me. I wouldn't lie to you," Noelle calls from behind.

"No. I won't believe that until I see him. Take me to my husband, please."

"Lulu..."

"Mrs. Archibald, I'm afraid that won't be possible," the other nurse intervenes just as I spot from the corner of my eye a couple of security guards heading my way. "You've been asleep for a week. Someone had to decide what to do with his body, and his family decided they would cremate him."

"What?" I stop, pivoting to look at her. "What family?Iam his family." I point to myself. Panic rises in my chest, and my vision starts to swim.

"Since you could not make that decision, the next of kin was consulted. I can find out who it was for you..."

"Who was it?" I turn to Noelle, walking around her in a circle, a harsh clamor laying siege over my mind.

She gives me an apologetic look. She knows enough of Nikki's family to realize why this should have never happened.

"His aunt. Ophelia."

I swallow hard, pressing my lips together.

"Why? Why would she cremate him?"

"She said it was what he would have wanted, and no one objected to it."

I close my eyes for a moment, stepping back until my back hits the wall. Even that small impact makes me reel in pain.

"He can't be dead," I whisper, anguish lacing my voice.

"I'm so sorry, Luce..."

I don't answer. I can no longer answer. My body moves at some point, either on its own or being led by others.

I'm put to bed.

There's a dull prick of a needle as an IV is inserted in my arm.

I stare at the ceiling. Numb.

No tears come out of my eyes. None.

I simply stare at the ceiling, counting all the little imperfections until my brain shuts off.

For the next few days, everything is a haze as I come in and out of consciousness. At some point, I realize they've decided to sedate me because I was adanger to myself.

I don't talk.

I don't speak to anyone.

I just stare at the ceiling, waiting for the next IV to be plugged in so I can burrow away into nothingness—so I can stop myself fromfeeling.

Yet even the sedative they give me cannot take that away.

Locked behind a wall of fog, I cannot form any conscious thought. But the pain is there. Oh, it'salwaysthere.

Yet I don't cry. Somehow, at one moment or another, I'd stopped being able to cry.

I think of Nikki—my sweet husband—and no tears come.

There's only this emptiness that becomes larger and larger with each passing moment—a void that threatens to swallow me whole. Oh, but I'd let it. In fact, I'm welcoming it.

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