A sharp pain exploded behind my eyes. My head started spinning, the pounding unbearable. I fumbled for the painkillers on the nightstand, my hands clumsy and weak. I swallowed two without water.

It didn’t help.

My mouth filled with a metallic taste.

Something warm slid down my upper lip.

I wiped it without thinking.

Red.

Blood.

My chest tightened. My breathing went shallow and fast. I dialed my mother again.

No answer.

My father.

Nothing.

My hands shook as I scrolled down and pressed Gusion’s name. The call rang once. Twice. Then it went straight to voicemail.

I laughed, but it came out weak and ugly. Of course he wouldn’t answer. Why would he?

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely press the numbers. I called 911.

“H-hello…” My voice didn’t sound like mine anymore.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“I… I need help,” I said, trying to stay upright, my shoulder pressed to the wall. “Something’s wrong. My head hurts so bad and I can’t… I can’t—”

The phone slipped from my hand.

The last thing I heard was the operator calling my name over and over, her voice fading as everything went dark.

---

Bright lights burned my eyes when I woke up. A steady beeping filled the room. The smell of disinfectant made my stomach turn. I was in a hospital bed. Alone.

A nurse rushed in when she saw my eyes open. “Ms. Colombo, you’re awake. Thank God. How are you feeling right now?”

My throat felt like sandpaper. “How long… how long was I out?”

“You were brought in late last night,” she said softly. “Paramedics found you unconscious at home. You had a severe migraine episode and a nosebleed. Is there anyone we should call for you? Your husband? Family?”

Family.

The word hurt more than my head.

I gave a small, broken laugh. “No,” I said quietly. “There’s no one left to call.”

The nurse looked at me like she wanted to say something, then thought better of it. She just nodded.

The next morning, they discharged me. I went home alone.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt it. That heavy presence. Like the air had shifted.

He was there.

Gusion sat on the couch like he belonged there, suit perfect, phone in one hand, briefcase on the floor. He looked bored. Impatient. Like he was waiting for a meeting to start.

My chest tightened. “Why are you here?” I asked. My voice sounded small.