Dying On My Own Terms

“I loved Dozier McCarthy with a madness that terrified him. So when his new girlfriend accused me of pushing her down the stairs, he didn't defend me. Instead, he signed the papers to lock me away in Serenity Heights. He called it "rehabilitation" for my obsession. I called it three years of hell. While he lived his perfect life, I was strapped to a bed, force-fed heavy antipsychotics that they called "vitamins." Those pills didn't just kill my love for him. They slowly destroyed my kidneys. When he finally came to collect me, he smiled, thinking my silence meant I was "cured." He didn't know he was looking at a walking corpse. Now that the doctors have given me a terminal diagnosis, Dozier is on his knees, offering millions to fix what he broke. "We'll find a donor," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "I'll save you." I just pulled my hand away and adjusted my apron. "It's too late, Dozier. I have a bagel cart to run." He wanted to control my life. Now, he can only watch me die on my own terms.”