But my legs were trapped.
My ribs were broken.
My only weapon was timing.
So when the pillow came down, I counted.
One.
Two.
Her hand pressed harder over my mouth.
Three.
Four.
Her breath shook, and that was how I knew she was enjoying it.
Five.
Six.
The edges of the room blurred.
Seven.
The monitor beep sounded far away.
Eight.
“Goodbye, Elena,” she whispered.
Nine.
My thumb found the button.
Ten.
The door burst open so hard it hit the wall.
Vivian jerked backward with the pillow still clenched in both hands.
For one bright, frozen second, nobody moved.
The investigator in the doorway raised his phone.
The second went straight to the side table.
The third stepped between Vivian and the door.
“Move away from the bed,” he said.
Vivian’s face drained.
It was not fear at first.
It was offense.
She looked insulted that anyone had interrupted her.
Then she saw the phone recording.
Then she saw my hand, still holding the alarm.
Then she understood.
Adrian appeared in the hallway behind them.
He stopped so suddenly the nurse behind him nearly ran into his back.
His eyes went to the pillow.
Then to his mother.
Then to me.
“Elena,” he said. “What did you do?”
It was such a stupid question that I almost laughed.
I had done nothing compared to what they had tried.
I had lain still.
I had breathed shallow.
I had counted to ten.
The investigator at the side table lifted Vivian’s purse and opened it with gloved hands.
“Do not touch that,” Vivian snapped.
Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Inside the purse was a folded copy of the life insurance amendment.
The yellow sticky note was still attached.
My signature line was marked.
But this time, it was not blank.
Someone had signed my name.
Adrian saw it before Vivian could explain.
He put one hand on the doorframe.
“Mom,” he whispered.
Vivian looked at him with a fury so naked it made her whole face older.
“I did this for you.”
That was when the room changed.
