His Art, Her Agony

or, my hands shaking so badly I

is?" a calm, profe

verything alright with

your grandmother had a fall. The paramedics are with her now. She

eat, the exhibition-it all faded into a dull

me. The drive to the hospital was pure torture. Every red light felt like an eternity. Wh

seen her. An oxygen mask was strapped to her face, and a monitor next to her bed beep

, projected onto a gallery wall. A panel of talking heads were discussing Ethan's "exploitative" art. My personal hell was

e raspy. She feebly lifted a hand, and I ru

randma. I'm

her eyes flickering with a deep sadness th

"I'm so sorry, Grandma. I'm s

r old strength returning. "You be strong. You are a goo

of the heart monitor next to her bed be

was too late. The sound of that flatline was the sound of my world ending.

, sad face told me what I already knew. My grandmother was gone. The f

ns. I made the call to the funeral home. I did it all alone, moving like an automaton.

th Ethan. My own place felt too empty, too silent. I don't know what I was lookin

was Ethan. He wasn't alone. A young woman with bright, adoring eyes was curled up against him, he

ate bubble bursting. Ava looked startled, but

xic cocktail in my veins. "She's gone," I sai

t me. "That's unfortunate," he said, his voice comple

esced into a single, chilling thought. He would not get away with this. I wouldn't just leave. I would make him pay. I would