DYING DECLARATION
Chapter One
SHE LOOKED PITIFUL.
She was a plain woman with a prominent nose and an everyday face,
made even less memorable by her refusal to wear makeup. She had stringy
black hair, puffy eyes, and skin blotched with red marks where she had nervously
clawed at her neck. She made no effort to stop the tears from running
down her cheeks and dripping on Joshie's head. She hugged him closer to
her chest, rocking gently in the recliner and humming softly, stopping the
motion only to wipe her child's forehead with a cool, damp washcloth.
She placed the washcloth back on the arm of the worn recliner and kissed
Joshie on the cheek. She felt his little body twitch back and forth in a way
that mimicked the rocking of the recliner. She resumed her rocking. The
twitching stopped.
The little guy was so hot. Motionless, almost lifeless, except for a quiet
moaning. His pain was her pain. And it was doubled by her helplessness, her
inability to stop the relentless march of the fever or to combat its devastating
effect.
She could no longer bring herself to take the temperat ... read full excerpt from Dying Declaration ebook
