The Bleeding Heart - short story

Sandra smiled warmly at the frail shell of the elderly woman in front of her. Her eyes scanned her wrinkled skin and frizzy gray hair, showcasing her beautiful hazel eyes. Out of all the residents at the retirement facility, she definitely adored Elizabeth the most. “How are you feeling today?” asked Sandra. “Lovely, dear. My headache from last night has subsided,” replied Elizabeth with a warm smile. Sandra loved Elizabeth’s company. She relished listening to her childhood stories, reading the newspaper to her, and painting her nails. To her, Elizabeth was like the mother Sandra couldn’t spend her adulthood with. The life Elizabeth lived was very calm and quiet. Elizabeth didn't need money to be motivated; all she ever needed was the embrace of her family. Sandra loved gazing at the monochromatic pictures on Elizabeth’s dresser. The photographs displayed a bubbly young woman in trousers, with a bright smile.

On the bus ride home, the raindrops trickling down windows of homes reminded Sandra of her mother, who would have been Elizabeth’s age if she hadn’t lost to cancer eleven years ago. She got flashbacks of her mother, holding her hand while walking through the woodlands close to their family home. Even in the hottest summers or coldest winters, they’d go to the woods and collect a bounty of plants, fungi, and flowers. They were carefree days. Sandra’s smile emerged from cheek to cheek as she pictured her mother holding her up in the water. Her smile quickly faded, however, as her flashbacks skipped forward many years to the last time she ever felt her mother’s soft hands. She remembered the rhythmic beating of the heart monitor and the frail body lying in the hospital bed. Watching her mother slowly touch the gates of heaven was the hardest thing Sandra ever had to do. Tears rolled down her eyes as she was still imagining it. “Last stop!” said the bus driver, which brought Sandra back to her senses. She got off the bus and walked home with only her wandering mind with her.

The sky was clear, and there wasn’t any rain or clouds in sight. Sandra pushed Elizabeth outside in her wheelchair for a dose of sunshine. “This feels nice,” said Elizabeth under her breath. Sandra sat on a wooden bench next to her and held her delicate hand. “Isn’t the feeling of the sunlight on your skin pleasant?” asked Sandra. “Yes, dear it is. But it isn’t enough,” Elizabeth replied. “What do you mean?” asked Sandra, who asked the question but deep down knew the answer.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, then began; “Many years ago we had a dog, his name was Carl. Scruffy little thing he was, but he served us well as a loyal pet. He always looked out for us. That’s what you do for the ones you care for isn’t it?” “Of course,” said Sandra, nodding in agreement. “But there came a day,” Elizabeth continued; “When Carl was old and in pain. He didn’t have the life he deserved.” Sandra watched a tear navigate its way down Elizabeth’s wrinkled cheek before falling onto the woolen blanket below. “He needed us to do right by him, dear, that was the least we could do. The day the vet ended his suffering was filled with sadness and relief. Sadness to lose our friend but relieved that he could rest in peace. We were happy that we could do that for him.” As Elizabeth uttered those last words, she lifted her head to Sandra and set her foggy gaze deep into Amelia’s eyes. Intense, unmoving. Sandra felt Elizabeth’s frail hand grip hers. Elizabeth’s voice trembled as a whole troop of tears descended down her cheeks while saying, “I’m not really living anymore, Sandra”. Sandra embraced Elizabeth’s frail, quivering body, as a mother would embrace a child.

“It’s okay, Elizabeth. You’re okay,” said Sandra, thinking she needed that reassurance. She knew the falsity of her own words. Upon realizing Elizabeth did the same, she quickly added a truth to help pull Elizabeth back from the darkness; “It’s your birthday in a few days, isn’t it? Now that’s surely something to look forward to!”

Elizabeth didn’t respond. Perhaps words couldn’t reach her mouth. She composed herself and stared off into the distance. During the following weeks, Sandra couldn’t get Elizabeth’s words out of her head. Elizabeth was different after that day. She refused to even get out of bed. Her spark extinguished.

“Happy Birthday Elizabeth!” Sandra announced as she entered Elizabeth’s room. Elizabeth turned her eyes towards the nurse, wearing a glittery cone-shaped hat on her head, happily presenting a pink cupcake with a candle. Elizabeth’s face remained still and empty. Even so, Sandra wasn’t deterred by her empty stare. “This is for you,” said Sandra as she placed the cupcake on Elizabeth’s bedside table. “This is a special family recipe. My mother taught me how to bake it. It’s quite delicious if I do say so myself!” Elizabeth managed to force a weak smile before slowly turning her head and closing her eyes. Sandra bent forwards and whispered to her ear, “It would mean the world to me if you tasted your cake, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams.” Sandra stroked Elizabeth’s hair before turning towards the door, humming Happy Birthday as she left the room. Her happy tune could be heard disappearing down the corridor until Mary was left only with the tick-tock of her old clock and the soft glow of her birthday candle.

Dicentra, or the Bleeding Heart, is a soft pink beautiful but deadly flower. One small piece of this angelic blossom is enough to open the doors to death within twenty-four hours. Sandra remembered her mother warning her every time they passed the spot where the killer resided in the woodland, hanging on a tree, swaying to the wind.

Sandra’s phone buzzed on the kitchen work surface amongst the bowls, spoons, flour, and other evidence still remaining from Amelia’s baking frenzy. She had decided that dishes could wait, but a hot bath could not.

Amelia ignored the rude intrusion of the phone and heard the voicemail alert. She let out a satisfied sigh as she rose from her steaming sea of bubbles. Amelia stepped out of the bath and wrapped a warm towel around her. She studied the strange outline of her reflection hidden behind the condensation on the mirror. The lack of features revealed a shadow staring back at her as she brushed her teeth. Looking down to spit, as her head rose back up, she dropped the toothbrush in shock as she stared wide-eyed at the words that had emerged out of nowhere on the mirror in front of her; ‘Thank you! It’s just what I wanted.’

Sandra stepped back and took a breath as a knowing smile began to migrate across her face. “You’re very welcome, Elizabeth. Happy Birthday.”

She turned and walked over to her phone. As Sandra listened to the voicemail, delivering the news that Elizabeth had passed, she enjoyed, for the first time in her life, a feeling of power and purpose, of love without regret. This, she thought, was only the beginning.

The End