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Vigil by D Kai Wilson

1:00 am by D Kai Wilson, editor in Fiction, Issue 1, Issues

I can’t see that thief that lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed
And I don’t know what’s happening and I won’t pretend

I said my goodbyes years ago – when this all first started.
You were different then – brighter, yet…I don’t know – there’s a spark in you now that you never had. A purpose I suppose. You’ve got a reason for doing al this at last, putting us through this again and again.

Is it wrong to wish you dead? Is it wrong to wish you gone? After all you did, after all you DO. The dreams you stole, and shattered, because we weren’t what YOU wanted. The hearts that broke because we couldn’t do what you expected of us.
You asked too much – you drove your own children to alcoholism, and counselling and drugs, and od’s.
You pushed us to far.

Not that I’m not pushing back now. Though sometimes I find myself thinking that the phone ringing at four in the morning is still a harbinger of doom, and freedom, I still feel terrible – for the few breathless seconds when I realise its just Mattie phoning to ask if I’m asleep, if messenger is still on on purpose and I’m just not responding, He’s good humoured, even though he’s been pulled into this triangle but sometimes I wonder how much further his patience will stretch.
Whether he’ll leave, you’ll die and I’ll have nothing.

Its been eons since I was at your side at dawn – a while ago you described me as part of the courageous skyline beside your bed. The hospice lets me come and go as I please. That thief inside your head isn’t going to win, and when you’re gone, I’m going to sue.

I still don’t know why you did it. I mean, the nanobots were unstable, isotope reactive, their half life was…well….
I don’t understand it. I don’t pretend to understand it. But you thought you’d found the cure to cancer, and took it. Little did you know you’d coded it FAR wrong. And you’re not a computer – we can’t reformat and rebuild.

One more day and I let them switch off the machine. I don’t wish you dead, but I can’t bear to see you like this.
I love you mom.

Kassie.

D Kai Wilson is the editor of this site - her fiction can be found at BooksbyKai and is spending the month of November doing the Nanowrimo.
She also blogs at Languagedump.