Chapter 5 - The Blindness of Blood

I stared at my mother, the jar still hovering between Warren's hands and the plastic bag. Her breathing was shallow, rapid, her frail chest rising and falling beneath the faded floral blouse she had worn for three consecutive days. She looked like a ghost walking through her own funeral.

"Mother," I said, trying to steady the tremor in my voice, "when was the last time you drank this tea?"

Bernice scowled, her thin lips curling into the familiar sneer she reserved exclusively for me. "About an hour ago, before I went out to check the mail. Not that you care. Sterling spent hours researching holistic treatments for my high blood pressure. He spent fifty dollars on those herbs! Unlike you, who couldn't even give him a small loan when his business ran into difficulty."

"His business was illegal sports betting, Mother!" I snapped, the anger finally breaking through the terror. "And this isn't chamomile! Look at this!"

I thrust the insurance documents and the invoice toward her. The white pages fluttered inches from her face. "Sterling took out a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on you three months ago. He forged your medical clearance, and he bought concentrated cardiac poison to lace into your morning tea! He is killing you, Mother!"

Bernice slapped the papers out of my hand. The sheets scattered across the linoleum floor, drifting against the dusty baseboards.

"Lies!" she shrieked, her voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical pitch. "Jealous, venomous lies! You have hated your brother since the day he was born because your father loved him best! You fabricate these disgusting slanders because you want to turn me against my only son!"

"Bernice, look at the signature!" Warren stepped forward, his voice firm and commanding. "That is your forged signature on a policy that pays out two million dollars strictly to Sterling upon your sudden death from cardiac arrest. And look at your hands! Look at how you're shaking!"

Bernice looked down at her hands. Her fingers were trembling uncontrollably, her nails showing a slight bluish tint beneath the cuticles—classic signs of digitalis toxicity causing peripheral hypoxia. But instead of fear, her eyes hardened with stubborn, delusional defiance.

"I have heart palpitations because Elaine stresses me to death!" Bernice shouted, clutching her chest. "Sterling loves me! He called me last night from Pennsylvania! He said he's coming back today with five thousand dollars to pay off the mortgage arrears! He told me he loves me!"

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"He's coming back today?" I froze, the air leaving my lungs.

Bernice smiled a smug, spiteful smile, completely oblivious to the shadow of death hanging over her head. "Yes. At five o'clock. He's coming home to take care of me. And I told him that as soon as he walks through that door, I am signing over the deed to the property into his sole name so you can never try to evict us again."