*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2241349-Retribution
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Triv
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2241349
Story with the words - grey skies, elements, a violin, and massive
Urvasi eased off on the pedal. Trees and vehicles flying by began to crawl as she cruised down the main street. She spied a vacant spot and deftly maneuvered her car into it with a sigh of relief.

The hospital loomed to her left, and the gloominess of the building matched the ominous grey skies. She took out the large duffel bag from the back seat. A quick adjustment of her sari and hair, and she was inside.

She permitted herself a thin smile of familiarity at the receptionist who made no move to talk to her or stop her. A simple wave sufficed as she headed to the elevator on the sixth floor reserved for the rich and the excessively sick.

At the door, she peered in, hoping to see a change—no such luck. The behemoth of a man in the bed lay supine with the multitude of tubes running out of him to various essential fluids. The day nurse looked at her and shrugged.

“I don’t know why you keep at this Urvasi. He will never come out of the coma. It’s six years today. Why do you do this?”

Urvasi gave Jency a withering glance. The nurse left, shaking her head.

Carefully and tenderly, she took out the shaving kit and began lathering the old man’s face. In a few minutes, she had liberated the visage from the fuzz, and she sat back with satisfaction.

The man’s massive chest continued heaving up and down, akin to musical notes repeated infinitely. Mesmerizing and hypnotic. Those were the only signs of life from the horizontal human.

Nature’s elements decided to cut loose. The skies opened, and the room darkened. The thick glass panes prevented any audio from seeping in, but the water drops made valiant attempts to enter through the unyielding glass.

A violin lay in the warm confines of the bag. Urvasi took it out and began to play the melody that only she and the patient knew. Eyes closed, she was soon lost in her music.

Three quick beeps plucked her from her melancholic reverie. She sprang up from the chair.

Blank, open eyes greeted her. Urvasi quickly pressed the button to summon medical help. There was no mistake. Her determination had won.

In a minute, the room filled with white suits and instructions. Urvasi tried to peer in through the mayhem. He was blinking now in some confusion.

Jency turned to Urvasi.

“Hats off to you. It looks like he is out of danger.”

Urvasi nodded and stepped out into the hallway. She had waited for this day. Now that it had come, she didn’t know how to process her emotions. Her throat felt dry, and her legs were shaking.

Steeling herself, she walked to the expensive coffee machine, a common sight on this floor. A few sips of the hot fluid steadied her. Time went by, and she didn’t know how long she sat there with her now cooled coffee. Her mind began to clear, and she walked back to the room, measured, purposeful, and composed.

All the staff had left, and the digital devices displayed healthy signals. Color had returned to the man’s face. There was a marked difference from what she was accustomed to for so many years.

“I heard you cared for me the entire time.”

Urvasi almost jumped at the deep voice; strength and confidence returned.

“Yes, sir,” she mustered.

“But who are you? Why do you care about me?”

Urvasi pulled the chair next to the old man. Gently, she took his hand in hers, and it felt like a large slab of meat.

“I’d like to tell you a story, sir.”

Confusion reigned on the man’s face. He indicated she should continue.

“Do you remember Urmila?”

He quickly withdrew his hand. A strange look came over his face.

Urvasi leaned over the get the violin leaning against the glass. Rain continued to attack the glass with renewed vigor.

She turned slowly, savoring every moment.

Wordlessly, she began to play the haunting tune.

The man shuddered, and a look of horror replaced all other expressions.

Urvasi paused.

“She was my mother, and I watched from my room as you strangled her.”

A tear of terror broke forth from him.

Unperturbed, Urvasi continued.

“I have been plotting to kill you for many years, and when I finally had everything planned out, you got into an accident and went into a coma.”

He tried to press the button, but his body was too weak to move.

“I cared for you, knowing you would wake up one day. After all, what fun is there in killing a comatose man?”

Mouth frothing and body twitching, he lay there. Helpless.

Urvasi’s voice remained calm like she was giving a talking to an errant child.

“I learned about what they’re pumping into you and also what would put you out of your misery when you awake.”

The duffel bag had not finished sharing its contents. She pulled out a thin syringe packet and a small vial of clear fluid, still intact after all these years.

He mumbled nonsense words as Urvasi smiled and watched as the syringe filled up.

“Don’t worry. No one will know that it’s a murder. Just like you covered up my mother’s killing.”

Urvasi looked for a vein like a dedicated doctor would do. His eyes betrayed his abject fear, but there was nothing he could.

“There! All done. You’ll be gone in the next fifteen minutes, and they will chalk it down to the fact that the heart couldn’t take your sudden revival.”

Urvasi walked to the door and turned back one last time.

“Goodbye, Father.”
© Copyright 2021 Triv (triv at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2241349-Retribution