UNRAVEL: A Collection of Shorties

The Bitter Pill of Letting Go

Final entry for Pocky Ranger's  One Shot Writing Contest 

Theme: Euthanasia

Required WC: 1k words

3rd place

      With grave expression, Matt zipped his gaze at the frail woman who was lying on her bed. The beeping sound of the cardiac monitor intensified Matt's downcast emotion; it felt like the sound was drilling holes in his skull.

      From the windowsill of the room, he could see the faint crimson afterglow of the sky— it was already twilight. The late autumn wind blew, ruffling the dried foliage around the yard in a circular motion. With that, Matt started to pull the windowsill shut.

     Suddenly, the door creaked open and a Middle-Eastern man with a slick black hair came in. He was wearing a gray coat and his slick black hair was combed back, giving him an aristocratic air.

     "How long we have to do this, Pa?" Matt asked in a forlorn tone.

     Without a word, the man hovered beside his beloved woman and drew a syringe from his coat pocket and injected a clear liquid into his wife's feeding tube.

       "Your mama will get well soon. I can cure her with my own expertise." Mr. Lambert said complacently and kissed his wife on her forehead.

      "But she's not getting any better if she's stuck in here! Why don't we seek a –"

     Before Matt could continue, Mr. Lambert's fist landed on his son's lips, making the blood oozed on it.

      "I am a fucking doctor!" Mr. Lambert interjected as he collared his teenage son.

      Matt's inside went cold as he darted his gaze between her mother who was lying on her deathbed and his father, a former doctor whose doctor's license had been suspended, a year ago due to a serious psychological issue. Ever since Mrs. Lambert was diagnosed in stage three of pancreatic cancer, Mr. Lambert had shown schizotypal behavior—one of the grounds for license suspension.

      "That was a year ago, Pa." Matt retorted, unfazed.

      An ugly sneer twisted on Mr. Lambert's already ruddy face as he wiped the blood off of his son's lips.

      "This medical prowess of mine will save your Mama. We don't need to heed—"Mr. Lambert trailed off and started to shake his head off rigorously. Without a word, he pivoted on his heels and bolted out of the room.

      'No Papa! Your illusion has to stop!' Matt resented mentally as he stared grimly at the slithering darkness outside.

***

     'You're not to tell a soul about this whole set-up, Matt or else I'll ship you to a dormitory far away from us. Nobody has to know that we're now in Vermont. We'll go back to Washington as soon as I have cured your mother.'

     That was his Papa's stern reminder to him three months ago. It was the twisted ways of his father's corrupted mind that had their lives spinning like a gigantic merry-go-round.

      If only he had been brazen enough...

      Suddenly, Mrs. Lambert's glassy- blue eyes flew open. She slowly wrenched upright as she winced in pain, clutching her upper abdomen.

     With that, Matt hovered beside her Mama and pulled her into a warm hug.

     "How are you feeling Mama?" he asked affectionately.

       Mrs. Lambert smiled feebly as she felt a whiplash of pain snapping in her abdomen.

       "Matt... you told me before that...you overheard your Papa and Dr. Morgan talking about the agreement that we had back in Washington Medical Center. I know this would be risky...but you have to do this...for us." Dorothy Lambert asserted as she sucked a deep breath.

        Hearing that, a sudden blackness came over Matt, dousing his good spirits like sand on fire.

       He could still vividly remember every nut and bolt of that conversation. Hell no.

       He didn't want to hear that wretched word again—euthanasia. He also knew the goddamn meaning of that.

      "No Mama! I can't! No! We could still opt for a treatment. There's this cutting-edge treatment for pancreatic cancer called nano—"

      Dorothy hushed him and cupped her son's face as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

     "I love you and your Papa. Tell your Papa that he'll always be the best doctor. I'll be smiling halfway around the world for the both of you. Matt, all you have to do is to man up and help your Papa save himself. He needs you the most," Dorothy mouthed as the pain had taken its toll again. "Please son, you... need to get cracking." she pleaded wryly, clenching her teeth.

     "But we need you the most, Ma. We need each other." Matt shot back heartily, his grayish eyes started to get misty.

    "Dr. Morgan's contact number is written on the tissue paper I had rolled inside the drawer. Now, go out as stealthily as you can and phone him!" she instructed and motioned him to get bouncing.

     Unnerved, Matt pressed his lips together into a hard line as he fished the tissue out of the drawer and looked cautiously in the gathering darkness outside.

     "I love you Mama." He mouthed, feeling the lump in his throat. Opening the windowsill, he threw a backward glance at her mother and prayed fervently that his Papa wouldn't get him busted.

      With spastic breathing, Matt ran through the street, looking for a payphone. As soon as he found one, he tremulously dialed Dr. Morgan's number and waited for someone to pick it up.

     "Hello, Dr. Morgan. It's Matthew Lambert, son of Dorothy Lambert."

     Just then, a hand fell on his shoulder and Matt's heart rammed violently as he slowly turned around to face who it was.

***

       As the black Mercury pulled over a Victorian-styled house, Matt still couldn't believe that Dr. Morgan had tracked them down two days ago and was surreptitiously snooping on them. Without any moment to spare, they hastily fled toward Mrs. Lambert's room and surprised to find the couple, curled up in bed.

     Suddenly, Matt's gaze raked into the cardiac monitor— which was now shut off.

     On the bedside table, there was a note written on an onion paper that read: Sometimes, someone has to let go.