Something doesn't feel right. A low, persistent hum of unease has been sitting in my gut all day, and I can't quiet it. Have I left a clue at the hospital? I mentally retrace my steps for the hundredth time. Is it the closet, the IV, my exit? No. It can’t be that.
Victor is still in a coma, five days after I gave him that special cocktail. The news was exactly what I wanted: both Esther and Ethan lost their minds when the doctors delivered the sudden, unexplained diagnosis. Esther visits him once a day, same as before, but she only stays ten or fifteen minutes. She just sits there and talks at his still form, probably complaining about how inconvenient this all is, before leaving.
Ethan has only gone once. With his company's sales plummeting, he’s reportedly a powder keg, snapping at ev
