Walls Between Us

bonus: circle of life [CARTER'S POV]

C A R T E R

I can picture the last bits of memories that he might be thinking of as he remains still on the bed, his one hand clutching mine tightly.

The room is shrouded in an aura that signifies that death is close. It is so close that even the servants are crowded outside the room, watching with remorse on their faces as their master takes his last breaths.

Grandpa's health deteriorated more and more over the months. His figure is pale, bony, and limp on the bed, his pupils fading in and out. A white dress shirt and cotton pants cover his body, made of the softest materials. Vance Bell's power and dominance have descended to being this shade of a man. The room smells sickly, with a pungent scent in the air that is making everyone cover their noses.

"My...son..." Grandpa chokes out, the pupils turning to look at me from a peripheral vision.

I squeeze his hand. "Yes, Grandpa. I'm your grandson."

"No..." he mumbles through chapped lips. "My...son...Parker. Where's...he?"

A lump forms in my throat, knowing that the son he is referring to is my son who is clueless right now as he sleeps in his room.

"He's...sleeping, Grandpa," I utter in a gravelly voice.

"Ah...let him sleep. He's...so...small..." Grandpa continues, sounding like he is struggling as he tries to form each word. "His mother...his beautiful mother was...crying when...when he left early. He...he fought with me...told me he didn't want my...my money. Grace...my lovely Grace...tried to stop him...He didn't listen."

Grace, my late Grandmother. My Dad was their only child so right now, he seems to be losing himself in a memory of the day my Dad left this place, leaving him and his family behind.

"Yes, I know, Grandpa," I say softly.

"You...know..." he sighs. "Can...you tell my son...if you happen to meet him that...his parents are waiting. Tell...him to come home. He...doesn't have to...be so upset. What...will he eat? How will...he survive without...someone to look after him? He...he can't be sleeping all the time."

"I will, Grandpa." I press my lips to his bony white knuckles, closing my eyes.

The servants informed me a while ago, raising me from sleep that Grandpa wasn't looking good. The nurse said he wasn't going to survive the night. I rushed here while Amaya watched as if she was deciding whether to follow me or stay put. She is due anytime now.

"My...Parker...He's young..." Grandpa resumes speaking with the remaining of his strength. "His...mother worries...she cries. She has...locked herself in the room above. She...won't speak to me. I'm worried...She's weak of heart. What if she has a stroke?"

Grandma died from a stroke in that very room that he is mentioning. He wasn't there when it happened. She had locked herself in that room, upset with him for making Dad leave. She didn't talk to him again.

All of that happened years ago. He is losing every bit of his sanity in these last seconds.

"I'll tell her to come out, Grandpa. You don't worry."

I reach forward to rub the tears that are constantly flowing from his eyes, down his cheeks. He squints, blinking at me as a flash of recognition lights up his pupils.

"Carter..." he says. "My...my grandson."

The lump in my throat grows as I hold his hand tighter. My eyes burn the more I watch the dazed look on him. He looks confused, broken, and out of place in his own body.

I don't recall ever hating him anymore. Death is such a strange situation. It lets you hold on to nothing but grief. I have had my share of deaths — my mother's parents whose car ran off the street right into a lake, my Mom's death in the accident that occurred because of me, and the cancer that took my Dad. I never had the chance to know Grandma Bell but when I found out that she had departed, I felt the familiar pang of losing another family.