𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫'𝔰 𝔇𝔬𝔩𝔩

Part 36

"We were definitely not happy together, but we could not stop loving each other; and the more unhappy we were, the more attached to each other we became."

- Fyodor Dostoevsky

Kate had taken drugs before, on multiple occasions even. She would've gotten addicted, even, if not for her crippling anxiety. She had responsibilities that had to be fulfilled and a reputation that had to be well put together; she could not afford to be an addict. But she almost wished she was. She liked the numbness they gave her, the ability to forget all about everything going on around her, the ability to focus on herself.

Cold fingers entered Kate's mouth, a pill on the end of them. She of course held her tongue out obediently, only twitching slightly. Fyodor nearly smirked at the sight of her like this, he loved holding this power over her.

"You're so obedient, my good girl." He couldn't help but coo as she took the pill into her mouth. Her ears reddened this time, since her cheeks were already sickly red.

She swallowed the pill and closed her eyes immediately after, something reminiscent of an addict getting their high. In reality, though, she only closed her eyes because the pill was hard to swallow on her dry throat. There it was; her last pill having just gone down her esophagus and into her stomach. She had nothing else, any sickness after this might be the one to kill her. She was on borrowed time from now on. Everyone knew this but nobody wanted to acknowledge it.

Bucket lists were never something Kate came up with, the ability had never been hers to even hatch this idea. She never knew what she wanted, she didn't know what she liked-- how could someone such as her have ever made a bucket list? That's right... she couldn't.

"Fyodor," She called out weakly for him. He turned to her with a soft smile.

"I think... I think I'm going to die." She looked down in her hands in her lap as her eyes watered and her lip quivered.

"Don't say such things, you're not going to die, I won't let you." He smiled as he tried to brush off her worries.

"I remember my grandfather's funeral... I remember it well." She frowned slightly. He lifted her chin in order to try and glance at her face. When he saw it, his heart broke in two. She had tears running down her face and her eyes bore a sadness he had never seen before. It was a sadness that came from beyond the grave.

Kate hardly remembered her childhood, apparently, trauma did this to you. She could only remember specific moments, everything else was always gone from her mind. Apparently, depression shrinks the frontal love in the brain, making memory worse. Both these factors could have been what made Kate forget it all, but nothing was certain-- only theories. Call them core memories if you will, but Kate's grandfather's funeral was one of those memories. It was too... beautiful, too grand, too pointless.

"It made me realise that grief is selfish. What good does it do for the dead? What good is it for them to be buried in an expensive coffin with bouquets of flowers? They get nothing out of it, they're dead after all." She shrugged as she smiled sadly. She took a breath before continuing on bitterly, "You should've loved them while they were still alive, if you did then it wouldn't be so sad."

Fyodor's eyes widened slightly as he took in the true weight of her words. She thought death was selfish, but not for the normal reason. He agreed with her. Grief is selfish of the living to do. Funerals, mourning, grief-- they're only for the living, the dead don't care. Death was final, that was the end of that life. Fyodor now knew Kate thought that way as well. People shouldn't be so selfish as to only care about those people after their death, they should have cared during their life. He understood.

"You're not dying though, I just gave you your medicine." He shook his head with a smile. He placed a delicate kiss on her forehead and stood.

"I've got to work, I'll be back to check on you at supper." He reassured her before he left. However, Kate didn't feel reassured, in fact, she felt worse for some reason. She had this unshakable feeling that everything was about to get worse-- so much worse. This anxiety couldn't be discarded nor could it be justified. She would simply have to wait until something happened in order for her to strike in just the right place.