Just for you opinion....(how was this story written?)?

He told me one last story. He used his aged, ruined voice like an old man’s hands to pick the lock on his past.

The heavy rain beating violently against the glass window was not the only thing that prevented me from hearing him clearly. It was a strain to lean forward, towards the hospital bed as he spoke through the oxygen mask. Despite the late hour, he had called for me to his side and this could only mean that he was certain he could not get through the night.

My hatred for him seemed to have vaporized when I peered into his sad eyes which mirrored my own sorrow. After all, he was my uncle and only remaining relative alive .I should carry out his dying wish in return for the years I took refuge at his home.

“I apologise for the way I have treated you in the past,” He said, before he turned his face away from me. I wasn’t prepared to forgive him until I saw a tear appear at the corner of his eye and roll down his cheek. Unable to see a dying man so tormented, I said” Uncle Jerry, please don’t cry, I understand you had to be harsh with me and I forgive you.”

Much to my surprise, he grabbed my wrist and with such determination in his voice he cried,” you don’t understand! Your boyfriend did not choose money over you. It was I who prevented him from meeting you. You can’t marry a lowly guy like him.”Too shocked for words, I could only shake my head in denial as my lower lip began quivering and tears gathered blurring my vision. I tried to pry myself from his grasp as he continued to stare into my eyes. His glace was cold and it seemed to draw the life force out of me and convert it into his strength.

I wanted very much to run away .Now I had more reason to hate him. In a final attempt, I managed to break free from his clutches but tripped over a wire before crashing to the ground.

He stretched his bony hand in my direction and I desperately backed up against the wall trying my best to increase the distance between the two of us. His breathing grew heavy and his chest rose and fell rapidly then his eyes rolled backward until only the whites could be seen. Froth was emerging from his mouth and his body jerked sporadically .All at once, he suddenly laid still.

“Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep...!”The machine produced a piercing continuous sound and a green line flashed across its screen .I inserted the plug back into the socket and the oxygen levels jumped from zero back to an eighty percent.

Nurses and doctors flocked to the scene. Someone guided me out of the room and said something in a soothing voice similar to my mother’s when she tried to comfort me every time I awoke from nightmares.

I had everything: Wealth, happiness, the love of my life and a loving family. Until that fateful day, of my parents’ death when he robbed me of all I had. In spite of his vicious deeds, everyone thought it was kind of him to look after a poor orphan .He was a mastery of trickery and had managed to deceive everyone. Soon, he grew accustomed to the power and dominance over people that wealth had given him and claimed full dictatorship over my every move.

When his mood was sour or I happened to make a silly mistake, I had to be “disciplined” with a cane. The marks from the wounds he had inflicted upon me still remain even though years had passed.

Now I no longer have to fear him for he is gone forever. Should I feel guilty for what has happen? Was he suffering all these years because he regretted his actions? Looking back, I do recall certain times when he seemed to show real concern for my wellbeing. I know I hate him but why do I feel the similar sensation of the pain of losing someone dear to me. Watching him lie motionless on the hospital bed, I came to a shocking realisation. I had loved him, treated him as a substitute for my dad and he in turn had cared for me but expressed his feelings in a twisted way.

How was I to tell him I am sorry when his soul has already departed for the other world? If only this discovery had been made earlier...