3WW: Dissolve, Trinket, Zest

He clasped his daughter’s small, cold hand; his wrinkled brow furrowed. ‘She’s trying to kill me,’ he murmured.

‘What?’ his daughter chuckled. ‘She’s not trying to kill you. She wouldn’t do that.’

‘She is. I know it.’ He played nervously with the trinket around his neck. ‘I abused her when we were younger. I know you didn’t know that. We kept it from you. And now she wants to get me back. I know it.’ The last word trailed from his cracking voice.

‘Dad, you didn’t abuse mom. You’re just having one of your episodes.’

‘No!’ he yelped. ‘Don’t you remember the bruises? She was afraid of me. She tried to shield you, keep you protected. But now she has me in her clutches. She wants me dead.’

‘Dad, look, you didn’t abuse her. You didn’t abuse me. The doctor said you’d have these attacks. Just rest.’

‘I had such a zest for life before I married her. I was popular. I was strong. I was uninhibited. Some might say I was unstoppable. Then I married your mother and wasn’t those things anymore. I was trapped. Like I am now. In this house. In this bed. At her bidding, I have to lay here in this bed. I’m not sick. She and the doctor are colluding. She’ll get my insurance money and run off with the doctor. That’s it. That’s what’s happening. She’s going to kill me and sell the house and run off with the doctor.’ He started shaking in the bed, gripping the mattress as if holding on for dear life.

‘I’m going to get mom.’

‘No, wait. She’s already done it.’ He glanced at his side table. ‘Do you see!’ he yelled, ‘do you see! There.’ He pointed to a glass of clear liquid. ‘I knew it tasted funny. I knew it. She dissolved the poison in my drink. I am dying. My insides are burning. I am sorry.’ He ceased shaking and sat listless, his eyes closed.

His wife entered. ‘What’s all that noise?’ she asked.

‘Oh mom, you have to put him in a home. You have to. He’s completely lost it.’

‘Am I trying to kill him again?’ she asked wryly.

‘It’s not funny. You have to.’

‘C’mon honey. Let’s let him rest a bit. I'm just gonna make him comfortable. Why don't you go downstairs and get a drink. I'll be down in a sec’. Her daughter left the room. She sat next to her comatose husband and spoke sweetly while stroking his hair, ‘I’m not gonna kill you honey; that would be too kind.’ With that she walked from the room and closed the door behind her.