After The Fall by Megan Glock (best thriller novels of all time TXT) 📕

It was Grady holding the phone. He didn't look angry like he had during their previous encounter. Instead, his expression was more... doleful. "It's the hospital."

* * *

Dayton's lungs burned as he burst into the hospital, all but collapsing against the receptionists desk. Anne was there again, looking at him with that same mournful look that Grady had had. "He's fine." Dayton said. It came out as more of a demand than anything else. Dakota had to be fine.

Anne didn't answer, but looked over Dayton's shoulder before looking down at whatever she'd been doing before.

Dayton turned. Dr. Kwoski stood. He looked tired and disheveled, "We lost him for a almost two minutes." The doctor informed. He made his way down the hallway, motioning for Dayton to follow; he did, wordlessly.

A massive sense of relief washed over him, but the adrenaline still lingered. He could feel himself shaking and he couldn't make himself stop.

"Like I told you before," Kwoski began as they came to a stop beside Dakota's room, a nurse was tending to him. "You're dragging things on. A coma lasting this long, there's very little chance he'll ever wake up."

Dayton refused to look at Kwoski, instead keeping his eyes locked on his brother. He knew Kwoski was right, some part of him did, anyway. Most of him wanted to punch the doctor in the face, scream at him and order him to fix Dakota; to make everything better. Of course he knew that was irrational and wouldn't do any good. But God, he wished it would. "Give me until the end of the week." He said quietly. His eyes stung as he felt the prick of tears, daring to come out.

Kwoski put a hand on his shoulder, "It's for the best." He assured, but it did little to make Dayton feel better. Kwoski left, and the nurse soon after.

He stepped into the room and over to the bed, looking at Dakota. "Asshole." He said, having difficulty getting just that out without his voice cracking. "I'm too young to be having a heart attack, so quit scaring me like that." He added, petting the dusty blonde hair atop Dakota's head.

"I'm the asshole?"

Dayton wondered if having imaginary conversations with his comatose brother was mentally unhealthy. Though he banished the thought quickly. The conversations made him feel better so it couldn't be that bad.

"You're the one that's going to let me die." Dakota continued.

Dayton grimaced, "It's for the best." He said, mimicking Kwoski from just minutes before. He thought maybe saying it out loud would convince him of that, but it really didn't. It felt like he was lying.

Dakota didn't respond and they sat the rest of their time together in silence.

Dayton was dreaming, he knew that. Though simultaneously, he didn't. It was that weird dream logic that he could never quite explain. He wasn't himself, either. At least, not him in the present. He was himself when he had been younger- ten years old to be exact. The scene was familiar, though different from the original in some aspects; he stood in the grassy field behind his old house, next to the large pond that he remembered playing in often during the heat of the summer.

"Dayton!" Someone squealed, running passed him and jumping into the pond and splashing in. Dakota, at this point being seven years old, emerged from the water, waving his hands. "C'mon!"

Dayton smiled and dove in after him.

Someone shook Dayton's shoulder, waking him from a restless sleep. His body ached from the position he'd been holding while sleeping in the chair beside Dakota's bed. He looked up,

"You need to go home." It was Dr. Kwoski, unsurprisingly. He looked clean and refreshed, opposed to his worn appearance from before. He must have went home sometimes while dayton had been out. "Visiting hours are almost up."

Dayton stood, rubbing his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, alright." He muttered tiredly. It was dark outside the room's window and Dayton grounded internally, loathing the inevitable walk homje in the dreaded darkness. He pet Dakota's head one last time before walking out, Dr. Kwoski following after him.

The doctor escorted him to the front lobby, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going out just yet, "Next time you come in I'll have some papers for you to sign." Dayton must have looked confused, because Kwoski said next, "Papers about Dakota."

Dayton scowled at that. The insensitivity of the comment made the urge to punch Kwoski in the face all that more unbearable. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Goodnight, Dr. Kwoski." He said and walked out.The walk home was no less nerve wracking than any other time he'd walked home alone in the dark, but uneventful otherwise. It was dead in the lobby of the apartment building and Dayton journeyed up the stairs and to his apartment without disturbance. He would have eaten, but due to the fact he no longer had any food in his fridge, he just went to sleep, ignoring his roaring stomach and the awful pain in his head from lack of sustenance.

* * *

He really wasn't feeling up to work but here he was, detesting every godforsaken moment of it. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone either, but ever since he'd come in, Sarah had yet to stop trying to initiate a conversation with him. And, if he were honest with himself, sleeping was the only activity that seemed appealing at that moment.

He was seated at his usual spot behind the counter, arms folded on he surface and his head resting on his hands. Sarah was rambling about something that he didn't even try to listen to. He was tempted to just fall asleep again, but she probably wouldn't allow him to do that. He could only imagine she'd slap him if he shut his eyes for too long, for the fact he wasn't listening to her rather than the fact he was sleeping.

Sarah laid her chin on the counter, their noses almost touching as she looked at him. "You seem down," She said, "more so than usual." This was approximately the fifth time she'd pointed that out to him. "What's the matter? Did something happen?"

Dayton twitched, "It's really none of your business, so just stay out of it." He didn't want to snap at her, and it had come out a lot more hostile than he'd intended. There was no taking it back now that it had already left his mouth. He watched as as a pained look crossed Sara's features briefly.

She covered it with a look of indifference as she stood up, straightening her back, "Fine." She retorted.

Dayton sighed, trying to contain his annoyance. Sarah was a sweet girl, but she was a little too much for him at times. "Look, I'm sorry, it's just-"

"No." Sarah cut him off, "It's none of my business." She said indignantly, walking down one of the aisles and out of view.

He put his face in his hands and groaned. This week just kept getting better and better...

The door opened and stepping inside was Charlotte. She was dressed in a gray dress suit this time. She scanned the store until her eyes fell on Dayton. Once she spotted him, she came toward him in quick strides, her pointed shoes clacking against the wooden floor of the shop.

'Deja vu.' Dayton thought, bemused as he recognized the familiar setting from just the other day.

"Have you read it?" The blonde women asked as she came to the counter.

"Yeah, it was real funny," Dayton replied flatly, "and a real waste of me time. Thanks for that." He added, the sarcasm thick in his tone.

Charlotte looked shocked for a moment before frowning, "You think it's a joke, don't you?"

"Why wouldn't I think it was a joke?" He said bitterly. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, "If you're not going to buy something, you need to leave." He hadn't felt like talking to Sarah, he felt even less like talking to someone who'd decided to make a joke out of his brother's coma.

Her eyes narrowed, "You need to take this seriously!" She hissed, leaning forward on the counter.

"Take what seriously?" Both of their head whipped to the side to look at Sarah who stood close by, watching them curiously, like a small child catching her parents arguing. Dayton paused his thought track- that was a weird comparison, he reasoned. He shook it off and focused on the matter at hand.When neither of them answered her, her face twisted into a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "Right, none of my business." She muttered, walking away again, this time going into the back room.

Charlotte eyed the door Sarah had left through. "We can't talk here." She stated after a long moment of silence. "When your shift ends, we can talk elsewhere."

"And what make you think I'd want to talk to you?" Dayton asked, scowling at her.

"Because your brother is dying." She said curtly.

That took him off guard, though he wasn't sure why. She had written that sick joke of a contract, so it shouldn't have been shocking for her to pull the brother card out on him.

"And if he's gone, what're you going to do?" She continued in a quiet voice, "Your only purpose is taking care of him, isn't it? Once that's taken away, you'll have nothing; you are nothing."

His chest clenched and he balled his hands into fists. "Leave." He said through gritted teeth.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "I'll give you a day or two, then we'll talk." She said definitively and turned on her heel, walking out of the store.

Dayton put his hands on the counter, leaning heavily upon it as he let out a breath.

The words plagued his mind the entire walk home. He denied them with little conviction, because part of him knew she was right. Ever since their Mother left and their Father died, it was just him and Dakota. He had an obligation to take care of his little brother; after all, he had been the one to get him into the entire ordeal. If Dakota was gone... then that would mean he'd failed. He really had killed his brother.

The memory felt like a stab in the chest.

He went into the lobby where he found Grady at the desk, sorting through papers. The older man looked at him, a soft look on his face. That was the look of pity, Dayton knew that look well. He turned away and went up the stairs. He couldn't stand to be looked at like that. He glanced at a clock hanging on the wall in the hallway; 9:47pm. He had officially gone more than twenty four hours without eating and by the time he stepped through the door of his apartment, he was beginning to feel dizzy and walking in a straight line was proving of great difficulty. He took a bottle of water from the fridge and made his way to his bedroom, occasionally stopping to lean against something and focus his vision. It was a harder job that necessary to get all the way there.

Something crinkled under the weight of his foot and he looked down; it was that stupid contract again. With a roll of his eyes, he kicked