Page 16 of The Hunter
Those years were some of my happiest memories. No fancy dinners. No designer shoes. No monsters in tailored suits.
What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and warn that naïve girl not to trade her soul for a miracle. Not to fall for a man with a smile that promised salvation.
Victor gave me everything I asked for, especially when it came to Mama.
I didn’t realize until it was too late that her care came at a price.
Everythingcame at a price.
Most people knew about Alzheimer’s. They understood the slow forgetting. But Lewy Body Dementia was different. It wasn’t just memory loss. It was a thief in the night, one that didn’t just take her memories, but replaced them with illusions. Hallucinations. Confusion. One moment she was herself. The next, she was in a different world entirely.
She’d been diagnosed years ago, after months of doctors telling me nothing was wrong. It wasn’t until Victor pulled strings and paid for specialists that we finally got an answer. It had felt like a blessing. A lifeline.
In reality, it was another link in the chain binding me to him.
Suddenly, my mother’s grip on my hand tightened, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her body becoming rigid.
“What’s wrong, Mama?”
“Don’t turn around,” she whispered in a strained hiss. Her gaze flicked left and right, scanning shadows. “He’s watching again. The man in the suit.”
I glanced over my shoulder. There was no man in a suit. Just an orderly pushing an older woman in a wheelchair.
“He works here,” I assured her, although I didn’t remember seeing him before. Then again, I was only allowed to visit on Sundays, and only if Victor didn’t have other plans for us.
Lately, he always seemed to make other plans, explaining it couldn’t be helped.
I knew enough not to question him.
“Don’t let his disguise fool you,” my mother continued. “That’s him. He was here a few days ago. Has a tattoo of a raven on his chest.” She dropped her voice again. “Youdoknow what a raven symbolizes, don’t you?”
“Mom, I don’t?—”
“Death, Ari,” she stated, her words sharp, unwavering. “He’s the Grim Reaper. Mark my words. You need to be careful, Ari. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I’m okay,” I whispered through the knot in my throat.
I hated seeing her like this. Worse, I hated knowing there was nothing I could do. Hated knowing every day, her lucid moments would become fewer. The hallucinations would increase. And my mother, the only person in the world I loved, would soon become nothing but an empty shell.
Kind of like I already was.
“I’m safe.You’resafe.”
“I’m not safe. And neither are you. Something’s coming. Something bad.” She yanked her hands away, her eyes darting wildly around the garden.
I jumped to my feet and waved down one of her nurses lingering nearby. “She’s getting agitated.”
The woman moved quickly, her expression calm but focused as she knelt in front of my mother. “It’s alright, Daphne. Let’s go inside and listen to your music. Your favorite. Debussy, remember?”
“Music won’t fix anything!” my mother cried, her voice rising. “He’s not who he says he is. A hunter. An assassin!” Her stare locked on me, wild and glassy. “He’s here for you, Ari. Run, baby. Don’t let him take you!”
Two more nurses ran up to her, one with a syringe already in hand.
I stood frozen as they gently restrained her. Her cries faded, head lolling to the side as the sedative took hold.
“I’m sorry,” one of them said, offering me a kind smile. “It’s nothing you did. You never know what might trigger these hallucinations. Maybe try again tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I managed to say through the tightness in my throat.
