1 The Cold Hand Of Death

The night was cold, and the atmosphere was thick with fog. A lanky figure suddenly appeared at the hospital. Vengeance was interred in his bones, and his bulgy eyes spoke of rejection. He trudged into the hospital's lobby like the grim reaper himself; hands crossed behind him and eyes fixed. He held a bouquet of flower behind him which fluttered with his black regalia. He waddled like someone who was probably trying out his first murder, but no one stopped him. Few ticks later, he walked through the left wing of the hospital, avoiding gazes and loonie-loos everywhere. Then he reached out for a young doctor.

"Hey young man, I am Henry Bruce, and I seek Ellen." His eyes blinked more than twice every second.

"May I know who you please?"

"I'm her husband's brother. Just got a call from the hospital…'

"Oh, I'm so sorry about your brother." The young doctor cut him in before he could continue his introduction. "Room 45."

Henry turned around, feeling the conversation was over. That night was not about him or anyone in the hospital except Ellen. As soon as he had got to the exact room that was stenciled with the imprint "Room 45", Henry walked in stealthily, latched the door behind him and sighed heavily. He could see Ellen on her sick bed, lying down like a lost soul. He thought of the years she had called him lazy, unproductive, and useless.

He smiled.

Then he walked closer. This time his pace was faster than when he had entered the room. He moved closer to Ellen who was still on her sick bed, with his hands still clenched behind him.

He placed the flower on the white duvet that covered her chest like a wreath on a Memorial Day, then aimed for her neck. Henry wanted so many things that night. He wanted to see Ellen struggle, he wanted to see the look on her face if she ever opened her eyes before she's strangled to death of course. He wanted to tell her that he was the mastermind behind their crashed plane or just whisper some to her lifeless body.

Everything suddenly felt choke. Ellen felt her body being pinned into the bed but wasn't sure what was happening. She tried lifting her hands but all to no avail. Finally, she opened her eyes and was greeted with the most horrific sight ever. She saw George's uncle standing close to her with his hands clasped on her throat. She struggled, but he was stronger. Nothing else was important at that moment – not the fact that she had never trusted Henry or had expected something like this from him sooner than now.

However, her breath ceased.

Her eyes turned in like someone undergoing an exorcism. She gasped, kicking her legs in the air, but no one could see her let alone help.

Henry, on the other hand, tightened his hands. He made sure his strength didn't dwindle.

When he noticed her struggle had stopped, he lifted his hands and sighed a sigh of relief.

"The companies are mine now." He smiled. 'no one will ever know what had happened, or hear about this."

"And don't be sad in heaven, I will place your boy with old Murphy."

That night, Henry turned around and left the hospital. He knew things had changed and that it was just the dawn of a new beginning.