Half Life

by Heather Atkinson

  He released a horrible choking sound before falling forward onto the table, his head connecting with the wood with a loud thud. As he fell he knocked over the crystal water glass which broke, making Sabrina wince. Even dead he still had the ability to get on her nerves.

  “At least I‘ll always know where you are at night now,” smiled Sabrina at the corpse.

  She leaned back in her seat and sipped her wine while her guests stared at her in horror.

  THE END

  SNOW DANCE

  Michael took another swig from the vodka bottle as he stared up at the Christmas tree, which blurred as fresh tears filled his eyes. It was a huge living pine reaching right to the ceiling, decorated in reds and golds. Adele had wanted a Victorian tree this year and she’d done a wonderful job, it looked beautiful. Now she’d never get to see it on Christmas day, not unless a miracle happened and she woke up. She’d been hit by a drunk driver a week ago and left to die on the road. Now she was clinging onto life, swimming in a coma and no one knew if she’d ever wake up. He’d spent the last seven days at the hospital, refusing to leave her side until both their families had intervened and sent him home for some rest. But he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat or breathe or do anything except think about Adele unconscious in her hospital bed, linked up to tubes and drips and machines that made terrifying noises.

  The gifts they were going to exchange were wrapped up beneath the tree in coordinating red and gold paper, maybe never to be opened. He thought of the selfish pathetic drunk driver who had hit her on her way home from work. He’d driven off, leaving her with a broken arm, shattered pelvis and internal bleeding. Fortunately the police had caught the bastard so he would pay for what he’d done. But that didn’t help Adele wake up.

  He took another swig of vodka, grimacing as it burned a path down his throat then slumped to his knees, the tree towering over him. This was their first Christmas as husband and wife, they were supposed to be together. Adele was going to make dinner for the whole family, a massive Christmas day gathering full of fun and laughter. Now he was here alone with a bottle of vodka for company, struggling with the knowledge that his wife might die. Taking another drink his vision swam and he let the bottle drop, making a sloshing sound as its contents spilled onto the floor.

  “Adele,” he groaned, the word full of longing and despair. If she died he’d die too.

  Movement from the doorway caught his eye and he turned to see his wife walk into the room, looking radiant in the long red dress she’d bought especially for Christmas day. She strode towards him, a tender smile on her lips.

  “Adele?” he murmured, pushing himself up to a sitting position, jaw falling open with astonishment.

  She knelt before him and ran her fingertips along the line of his jaw, just as she always did.

  “Look at the state of you,” she said in her soft husky voice.

  “You’re not real. You’re in hospital.”

  “I’m here with you Michael. That’s all that matters.”

  A sob escaped his lips as he reached out a shaky hand to touch her face. She looked just the same as always; glossy black hair cut into a neat bob, full red lips, liquid brown eyes. Beautiful.

  “Is it really you?”

  She grasped his hand with her own. “Can’t you feel my skin, my warmth, my touch?”

  He closed his eyes, better to savour the sensation. “Yes I can.” He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed it, smelt the perfume she always wore. “Baby it is you,” he breathed, tears rolling down his face.

  He pulled her to him and held her close, burying his face in her hair. She felt so solid and real in his arms.

  “It’s snowing outside,” she smiled, gazing out of the window. Snow was one of her favourite things.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the patio doors.

  They stepped out into the biting cold and it was only then he realised she was wearing just a strappy dress.

  “You’re going to get cold.”

  She gave him another disarming smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  He was only wearing a thin shirt himself and shivered. Adele rested her head on his shoulder and instantly he felt a warmth start to seep into him. Wrapping her in his arms the warmth engulfed him, flowing from her into him and suddenly it wasn’t cold anymore.

  Despite how real she felt he knew he must be dreaming. His exhausted grief-stricken mind had created this illusion to help him deal with the trauma but he wasn’t complaining. It was glorious. He looked down at her, the white snow settling on her black hair and she smiled up at him. Taking her little pointed chin between his large fingers he dipped his head to kiss her and the kiss she returned was pure Adele; warm, passionate and soft.

  “Dance with me,” she smiled, pulling him onto the lawn that was now blanketed with snow.

  “But there’s no music,” he frowned.

  Suddenly a slow haunting tune started up in the air. He looked around for the source but was unable to define it.

  “Relax,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s not the first time we’ve danced together.”

  “Okay,” he replied, sliding his hands around her slim waist and kissing her cheek.

  They moved together gently from side to side and he couldn’t stop looking at her. There wasn’t a mark on her to indicate she’d been in an accident. She was healthy and whole and so very achingly lovely.

  “Has the pain gone?” he said softly, pressing his lips to her forehead.

  She gazed up at him with her liquid eyes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Good,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

  In the distance they heard the church bells strike midnight.

  “It’s officially Christmas day now,” she said, excitement shining in her eyes. She’d always loved Christmas.

  “Want to open a present?” he said, smiling at her eager nod.

  He led her back inside and shook the snow from his hair while she raced to the tree.

  “Here,” she grinned, handing him a gold parcel.

  With a smile he tore off the paper to reveal a first edition of his favourite book and a lump formed in his throat. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

  His reaction pleased her and she kissed him.

  “Now your turn,” he said, picking up a small red gift.

  “I like small presents. They’re usually the most exciting,” she smiled.

  He loved how she tore the paper off like an excited child then writhed open the lid of the little black box.

  “Oh Michael it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

  It was a white gold locket in the shape of a tiny heart set with genuine diamonds. It had cost him a small fortune but she was worth it.

  “I saw this in the jewellers a few weeks ago,” she said incredulously.

  “I know. I remembered how much you liked it.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I do. I really do.”

  “Here, let me put it on.”

  She turned, revealing a bare expanse of back and after fastening the clasp on the necklace he kissed her shoulder, following the slim curve up to her neck, making her sigh with pleasure.

  “What do you think?” she said, turning round so he could see the pendant.

  “Gorgeous,” he grinned, leaning forwards to kiss her.

  But she took a step back with a mischievous grin. When he gave her a puzzled look she glanced up at the ceiling, indicating the mistletoe hanging there.

  “Oh I see,” he smiled, stepping towards her and this time her lips met his passionately.

  Michael woke to light streaming in on his face, causing his aching head to throb. For a moment the despair that had been his ever present companion for the last week returned only to be dashed away by his memories of the previous evening. With a smile he turned over on his side and froze.

  He stared at the empty space in the bed beside him with disbelief. Tentatively he reached out a hand to tou
ch the spot where Adele had lain with him just a few hours ago to find it cold, the bedding crisp and straight. He pressed his palms to his face and bellowed in pain. It had all been in his head. Adele was still in a coma in the hospital and he was alone.

  Sudden panic engulfed him and he sat bolt upright. The thought was insane and went against the rational, practical part of himself but what if she really had come home to say goodbye?

  Frantically he snatched the phone off the bedside cabinet and punched in the number of the hospital.

  “Ward Seven. Sister Cartwright,” answered a voice.

  “I’m ringing to check on Adele Ramsay. I’m her husband.”

  “I’m afraid there’s no change,” she replied gently.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, for the first time glad to hear those words. “Right, thanks.”

  He let the phone drop and fell back into the pillows, closing his eyes better to relive the best dream of his life. Hot salty tears spilled from beneath his lids as he recalled every look and gesture, how it felt to hold her again and hear her speak. He had to see her.

  Leaping out of bed purposefully he took a shower and shaved for the first time in days. Then he went downstairs and actually ate some breakfast, grimacing at the smell of the vodka permeating the room.

  He ordered a taxi to take him to the hospital, not trusting himself to drive after the drink he’d put away last night. He wished the scum who’d hit her had done the same thing. Just before he went out the door he paused to pick up the small red gift he’d given Adele in her dream. After all it was Christmas day. It didn’t seem right he turn up empty-handed, even if she was unable to open it.

  As always when he entered Adele’s hospital room he froze in the doorway, the sight still scaring him. She looked small and vulnerable, the tubes protruding from her body confirming how fragile she was. Her mum was asleep in the chair by her bed, skin grey with exhaustion. Quietly as he could he took the chair on the opposite side of the bed, picked up her left hand and pressed it to his lips. She felt cold and lifeless.

  “Happy Christmas Sweetheart,” he whispered.

  Her right arm was immobile in an elbow-high cast, face covered with large bruises that were fading to yellow. Her normally immaculate bob was scraped back off her face to reveal high cheekbones, the sweep of her long dark lashes, the tiny pointed chin he thought he’d held last night.

  Suddenly the dream that had yesterday seemed so wonderful now just felt cruel and the vivid memory of it pained him. He dipped his head and pressed the palm of his free hand to his eyes to try and hold back the tears then went rigid as he felt a pressure on his hand. Head snapping up he saw Adele’s fingers were squeezing his own. He watched with baited breath as they relaxed then squeezed again. He stared at her face, praying for a reaction. The pressure on his hand eased and he felt the hope die then her head lolled towards him. He knew coma victims could move and make noises so he didn’t want to wake up his mother-in-law with a false alarm.

  He watched with baited breath as she released a low moan and her eyes flickered behind the closed lids.

  “Adele?” he said softly.

  Slowly her lids fluttered open and she regarded him with unfocused eyes.

  “Adele?” he repeated a little louder, heart in his mouth.

  The sound of his voice seemed to recall her and her eyes focused, the right side of her mouth twitching up into a smile.

  “Michael?” she murmured in a breathy whisper.

  “Adele, can you see me?” he said eagerly, clutching her hand tighter.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s awake, she’s awake,” he cried triumphantly before hitting the call button for the nurses. “Barbara, she’s awake,” he yelled, waking his startled mother-in-law who almost fell out of her chair.

  Barbara leapt up and raced round the bed to Michael’s side. “Hello Honey,” she beamed, tears welling in her eyes as Michael kissed Adele’s hand over and over again.

  “Mum,” she rasped.

  All hell broke loose as medical staff raced into the room.

  Three hours later all the doctors, family and friends left to give Michael and Adele some peace together. Her surgeon had announced that she was doing well and on the road to recovery, although it would be a long and arduous journey.

  “You gave us a hell of a scare,” smiled Michael, shaky with relief.

  “Sorry,” she croaked in a voice weak from lack of use.

  “Don’t be, don’t ever be,” he breathed, leaning over to kiss her lips.

  “I can’t believe I’m stuck in here on Christmas day. We were supposed to be at home, together.”

  “I know Babe but after this last week I’m just glad to be sat here talking to you.”

  “I’m luckier than most,” she replied, running her fingers along his jaw, giving him a startling reminder of the dream. Then her eyes focused on the little red gift by her bed and she smiled. “Is that for me?”

  “Yeah. I had to bring you a present on Christmas day,” he said, picking it up.

  “Could you?” she said, indicating her injured right arm.

  He pulled off the paper to reveal the little black box and her eyes widened. “Is it a locket?”

  “How do you know?” he frowned, a little unnerved.

  “I pointed it out in that jewellers. I hoped you’d go back for it,” she grinned.

  “Oh right,” he smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. He opened the lid and her eyes glittered with happy tears.

  “Thank you. It’s more beautiful than I remember.”

  “You are very welcome. From now on you get whatever you want.”

  “In that case I should thank you for the dance in the snow. That‘s something I‘ve always wanted to do.”

  He went rigid, staring at her in amazement. “You…you were really there?”

  She smiled. “Listen to the music.”

  The hospital radio was on, piping out the same haunting melody.

  “But…how?”

  “I don’t know but it’s the last thing I remember before I woke up. One minute I was at home in bed with you. Then I was here.”

  His mouth just opened and closed as his brain attempted to process this information.

  “Don’t look so afraid Michael, it was beautiful. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  His expression softened and he retook his seat by her side. “Whatever it was it brought you back to me. That’s all that matters.” He kissed her fingers one by one. “And I’m not letting anyone take you away from me again.”

  THE END

  MERCY

  Mercy looked down at her hands cuffed before her, struggling to process how her life had come to this.

  “I’ve been sat here for an hour. How long is this going to take?” she sighed.

  The WPC standing guard stared at her stony-faced. “As long as it needs to,” came the curt reply.

  Mercy sighed and went back to staring at her handcuffs as there was nothing else to do in the small grey room. Her beloved two inch high black stiletto heels tapped a nervous staccato on the tiled floor, causing the WPC to scowl.

  Finally the door opened and in walked a tall statuesque blond in her early forties, long curly hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Hello Mercy. My name’s DI Paige.”

  “Hi,” she replied in a quiet voice.

  Mercy recalled a time when people sniggered at her name. Now she knew no one would ever dare laugh at her again, not after what she’d done.

  DI Paige sat before her and regarded her in a sympathetic woman to woman way.

  “Is Alex still alive?” said Mercy.

  “Yes but he’s in intensive care and likely to be there for a while.” Paige studied her prisoner carefully and couldn’t decide whether the look on her face was relief or annoyance. “Are you glad about that?”

  “I’m not sure,” she murmured thoughtfully. “He did try to kill me after all.”

  Paige‘s eyes narrowed. “Tell me about when
you first met Alex Carter.”

  “In a nightclub. I was out with my friends. He bought me a drink, we had a dance. He took me out for a meal the next day. It was a bit of a whirlwind romance and things moved quickly. We saw each other as much as we could.”

  “When did you notice his unnatural interest in death?”

  Mercy swallowed hard.

  “Alex where are we going?” I demanded.

  It was late, almost midnight and he was driving us up a dark country lane out of town.

  “It’s a surprise,” was all he’d say, a smile fixed to his face.

  “Come on, tell me. You’re making me nervous.”

  “You trust me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, course.”

  He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. “Then relax.”

  The car stopped outside the cemetery.

  “Why have you brought me here?”

  “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “What?”

  “I told you, it’s a surprise. Please don’t spoil it.”

  He got out of the car, walked round to my side and pulled the door open but I refused to get out.

  “I’m not going in there. You wouldn’t get me in a graveyard during the day, never mind at night.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I‘m not afraid. Anyway, I couldn’t walk through there in these heels.”

  His expression darkened. “Get out of the car now.”

  “I said I don’t want to. Please Alex just take me home.”

  He thrust his head into the car aggressively. “If you don’t get out I’ll drag you out.”

  I just stared at him, unable to believe what was happening for this was a side of him I’d never seen before. “And if you don’t take me home right now I’ll scream my head off.”

  As there were some houses nearby this seemed to have the desired effect. He slammed my door shut angrily then got back in the driver’s seat, slamming his own door. We drove home in silence and when I got out he didn’t say a word.