Chapter 11 - Room 312
The room smelled of antiseptic and rain. Thomas lay propped up against a stack of crisp white pillows, an IV drip taped to the back of his bruised hand. Without the grime and the shadows of the crawlspace, his face looked startlingly frail, his hollow cheeks accentuating the striking resemblance he shared with Mark.
He turned his head slowly as the door clicked shut behind Sarah, his deep blue eyes fixing on her with a quiet, melancholic curiosity.
"You came," Thomas rasped, his voice sounding slightly stronger than it had earlier that afternoon.
"I had to," Sarah said, remaining near the door with her hands folded tightly in front of her. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a ghost trying to learn how to breathe again," Thomas replied softly, offering a faint, self-deprecating smile. "The doctors say my lungs are damaged from the mold, but I'll live. Unlike the last twenty years."
Sarah walked closer to the bed, pulling up a metal chair and sitting down. The silence between them felt heavy, laden with unsaid words and shared grief.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said, the two words feeling entirely inadequate, yet all she had to offer. "I didn't know, Thomas. I swear to you, if I had any idea..."
"I know you didn't know, Sarah," Thomas interrupted gently. "Mark was always good at building walls. He built one around me in the dark, and he built one around you, making you believe he was a good man."
"Why didn't you try harder to escape?" Sarah asked, the question burning in her mind since she first heard his voice. "For years, you could have broken through the floorboards sooner."
Thomas looked down at his thin hands resting on the white cotton blanket. "I tried, the first few years. But every time I scratched at the wood, Mark would walk above me, talking to his clients, smiling, living the life he stole from me. After a while, the dark became my only reality. I lost my mind for a long time, Sarah. I forgot who I was."
"And then Lily was born," Sarah whispered, realization dawning on her.
"Hearing her little footsteps overhead... that was the only thing that woke me up," Thomas said, a tear finally escaping his eye to track down his weathered cheek. "She gave me a reason to crawl back toward the light."
Before Sarah could respond, the door to the hospital room swung open abruptly, revealing a sharp-eyed woman in a tailored navy suit holding a thick leather briefcase.
May you like
"Mrs. Dawson?" the woman said briskly. "I'm Thomas's court-appointed legal counsel. We need to talk about the estate."
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