Saoirse
As soon as I see my father’s body lying in that coffin, his face white as a ghost’s, I scream.
Cillian’s arms wrap around me immediately, stopping me from getting any closer. He keeps whispering my name, trying to reel me in.
But all I can hear are my own screams. Loud and endless. Torn with grief.
That is, until my father’s body starts convulsing suddenly.
“Fucking hell,” I hear someone say. “He’s alive. He’s alive!”
That’s the last straw. My body, my mind, my heart… They can’t take this shit anymore.
I black out.
* * *
I wake up a little while later. Rhys is in the room with me, sitting guard in a chair by the door.
“Tell me what happened,” I beg as soon as my eyes open. “Tell me my father’s alive.”
He fills me in quickly.
As soon as I understand, my voice shifts. “Take me to him,” I order. “Now.”
He nods and stands to escort me out. My legs are shaky as I clamber out of the bed, but I power through the sensation and rush out of the room.
We move down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, and to another room, one I hadn’t encountered on my walkabout this morning.
This one is beautiful. Too beautiful and too cheery for the rest of the austere O’Sullivan manor, as a matter of fact.
Pastel wallpaper on one side and large, arched windows on the other. The carpet covering the entire length of the floor is a happy floral pattern at odds with the other areas of the house.
My father, lying propped up in his makeshift gurney, gurgles unintelligibly as soon as I walk in. I hurry to his side at once.
“Pa,” I say gently, clasping his hand in mine. “Stop. You’re too weak. Just lie back and get some rest.”
He coughs, sending spittle flying everywhere.
I grab a tissue from the box by his bedside and help him sit up more so that he can cough into it.
The moment he finishes coughing, though, he cringes with pain and lets loose a soft groan.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Stomach cramp,” he grunts.
“It’s a side effect of the morphine, Pa,” I explain. “Give it some time and the pain will get better.”
“Morphine?” he asks in confusion.
It didn’t make sense to me when Rhys explained it at first, either. Plus, the morphine is addling his brain and making him disoriented.
“Do you remember what happened, Pa?” I ask gently.
“No… no…”
“It’s okay,” I say, gripping his hand to counteract the nervous energy wafting off him. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk about it later.”