Cane's POV
The first thing I felt was the weight. My body was a stone slab, sunk deep into the mattress. It took everything I had just to turn my head a fraction on the pillow. The room was dim, the way it always was. Empty.
My heart, that old tired muscle, gave a dull thud of disappointment. Stephanie. Her face, her touch, her tears—it had all been so real. The most real thing I'd felt in years. But it was just a dream. A beautiful, cruel dream my dying brain had cooked up to torture me one last time.
A hot anger, weak but sharp, flashed through me. I was so sick of this. Sick of being a prisoner in this useless flesh. I could hear everything, understand everything. I saw Josh's shoulders get heavier every week. I saw the light fading from Jolina's eyes. I heard Mabel and Henry whispering about money, about medicine, about how long I could last. I was a burden. A piece of furniture that needed to be fed and cleaned.
