“Oh, well, it’s good to get her out of that room. I’ll call for lunch, then we can see if she'd like to make another round through the gardens.”
“Sounds good.” I rapped my knuckles on the desk and turned to leave. But as I reached for the door, something on the whiteboard in the hallway made me stop.Grim.
His name was there again, scrawled in bold black marker. I’d erased it this morning, I was sure of it. Watched the ink smear under my sleeve until nothing remained but a faint ghost of residue. And yet... there it was. Clear as if it had never left.
A flicker of dread crept down my spine.
I stared for a second too long, the air around me stretching thin and strange. Then I shook my head, shrugged off the feeling, and kept walking.
As if ignoring it would make it disappear.
“Hey, Bug…” My voice wavered as I pushed open the door.
I froze.
Ishani sat up in her bed, the pink yarn scattered across the floor in a perfect line leading to my feet. And there, beside her, was Grim. Clad in the same blue hospital scrubs as the nurses, he glanced over at me as if nothing was wrong.
And then, in that moment, Ishani’s head fell back against the pillow, her body going limp.
“No! Ishani!” I screamed, my heart slamming in my chest.
Grim vanished, evaporating into thin air, and I rushed to her side. My pulse hammered in my ears as I cupped Ishani’s cheek, my thumb tracing the smooth line of her skin. Her eyes were dull now, there was no shimmer, no spark.
The funny thing about Death—he had a tell.
After seeing so many lives end, I’d come to recognize the subtle signs. The life in someone’s eyes, the way it dulled as their time approached. You could see it.
It was a fading of color and a lack of light. Ishani’s had once shimmered gold. Now, her eyes were empty, lifeless.
“It’s almost time,” she mumbled, her voice distant, dreamy. She was no longer with me, not really. “I’m tired.”
My chest ached, and I could hardly breathe, but I forced the words out. “You’re okay, Bug. Rest.”
A small smile curled at the corners of her lips as she settled back into the bed, squeezing her unicorn close.
“You’re going to be fine.” I kissed her forehead gently, my hand lingering on the soft quilt.
But I was a liar—she wasn’t fine, and neither was I.
Sitting outside the room, my head tipped back against the bleached wall of room thirteen, I focused my attention on the small hangnail on my pinky. The absurdity of it only fueled my anger. The itch for a cigarette—a craving I hadn’t had in years—was nearly unbearable. My mind buzzed with the weight of decisions I didn’t want to make, and the pressure made me reconsider the three years I’d spent in agony breaking the habit.
I could call Piper, let her know that Ishani’s warning was concerning—or just make sure she and Sanjay stayed away, in case I had to step in and do what I always feared. The rebound of my gift was like a constant hum, a reminder of the heavy cost I bore. It was a curse, carrying the weight of life and death in my hands.
“Elizabeth?”
I snapped out of my thoughts. Her heels clicked against the sterile tile floor, each step crisp and purposeful. She approached with her hair neatly swept back, a briefcase in one hand and two coffee cups in the other. She looked every bit the formidable lawyer she was—composed, poised, striking. But she didn’t know. She couldn’t feel the way death pressed into the corners of the room like I could. The weight of it clung to me, heavy and unrelenting. Piper didn’t see it yet, and maybe that was the cruelest part.
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, her feet coming to a stop just before me, her pointed toes brushing against my old Converse.
“Yeah, just taking a second.” I took the coffee she handed to me, sipping it absently before standing to follow her into the room.
“Has she been asleep long?” Piper whispered, dropping her bags and moving toward Ishani’s bedside.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching Piper approach her daughter with the soft reverence only a mother could possess.
“A couple hours,” I answered, my heart crawling its way up my throat as she leaned down to kiss Ishani’s forehead, brushing a stray black lock from her tanned face. The gesture was tender, but her face fell, a look of concern washing the bit of joy she’d walked in with away.
