20
Katherine languished in a dark basement, barely kept alive on watery
gruel.
Her untreated shoulder wound festered, filling the air with a sickening stench.
At first, she screamed for help, but her cries echoed in the emptiness.
Despair crept in, leaving her utterly alone.
I wondered if this was how I felt after death.
When she’d suggested cutting off my mother’s medical care, I’d felt that same crushing hopelessness.
On Terry’s next visit, Katherine was barely lucid.
Too weak to beg, she lay on the floor, her eyes vacant.
“Weren’t you the one unafraid of death, Katherine?”
“Didn’t you say you’d sacrifice anything for those I love? Well, here’s your
chance.”
Terry’s voice was chillingly calm.
He set the basement ablaze.
wail.
Katherine’s screams pierced the air, more haunting than any banshee’s
But death didn’t come.
Katherine survived, her body a map of severe burns. Terry placed her in a nursing home, where her skin endlessly scabbed and cracked.
She was sentenced to a lifetime of conscious agony.
I watched it all unfold, having anticipated this outcome.
Witnessing this karmic retribution, I felt my spirit lighten, if only a little.
