I married an old man to save my sick father
“I know you hate me, Clara,” Julian heard himself again, but this time he spoke as if he were bent over me. “I know you see in me a monster, an old, rich freak who buys foreign daughters.” But I’m dying. My memory is falling apart. Alzheimer’s eats everything – her voice, her laughter, her formulas, even the way she tied my tie. I can’t let Catherine die a second time.
His voice broke.
“If I can’t keep it in my head, I’ll keep it in yours.
My breath stopped.
The pills.
Nights without sleep.
Foreign memories.
He didn’t put me to sleep.
He was recording me.
