The hospital room was dark and gloomy on that wet February afternoon. Grandma silently laid in her hospital bed. The ventilator wheezed every time she would take a breath. My family and I sat in silence thinking about the decision we would have to make soon. Those thoughts were soon interrupted when the man in the suit walked in.
He was a tall, slender guy. He had white hair and white, bushy eyebrows that stuck out. He glanced in my direction, and then toward my dad and mom. No one spoke until my dad stood up. The man began to talk, “Hello, Roe family, my name is Stephen. My wife, she's a preacher. She was up here a couple days ago.”  The man’s voice boomed in the quiet hospital room.
“Ah, yes your wife is Sandra, correct?” my dad whispered. The man nodded. He began walking towards my dad. My dad met him halfway and extended his hand. They firmly shook each other’s hand then my dad stepped back and took a seat in one of the many chairs in the luxuriously furnished hospital room. The man went over to my grandma and rubbed her arm up and down. Then he paused right at the bend in the arm and stayed there for a few seconds. He then continued to rub her arm. Once he stopped, he turned around and sat down.
Grandma had one of the nice rooms that the hospital gives to the people who don’t have very long to live. It had two couches, at least four chairs, of course, the hospital bed and a huge bathroom. It also had a window with a view that somehow made you feel trapped. Wall after wall. Rocks after rocks. Car after car. People crying in the windows of the other patients’ rooms who had just passed away. At least this room was semi-cheery, except for the fact that my grandma was suffering through some of her last days.
There was a long silence. The man sat in the chair across the room. His dark eyes were planted on me. I casually glanced at him every so often. He stared at me for which seemed like forever. Finally he broke the silence “Well, I guess I should probably get going, but before I leave, can I use this very convenient bathroom?” Stephen questioned. He got up out of his chair and walked to the bathroom. He proceeded to open the door and then he stopped. His knees buckled and he began to fall backward. My dad sprung out of his chair and caught him before he hit the ground. Dad laid him flat on the ground right in front of my feet. Stephen’s eyes rolled back into his head.
“Nurse! Nurse! Someone please hurry,”  my dad screamed. Three nurses came rushing in, probably thinking that my grandma had just died. Their eyes widened when they saw the man sprawled out on the floor. They bent down on their knees and checked his blood pressure. They waited until his eyes popped back open. While waiting on the nurses to check him out, I noticed something inside his pocket. It looked like a needle. At that time, I didn’t think anything about it. 
“Sir, do you need anything before we move you?” one of the nurses asked.
“Well, I need a few pillows so my head can be propped up. I am also feeling a little sick,” he replied.
“Okay, kids, let’s step out in the hallway since our visitor isn’t feeling very well,” my mom whispered to my brothers and me. We walked out of the room and to the lobby. We watched them wheel the man out in a wheel chair.
The next day my dad called home to say that my grandma had passed away. The tears began to flow down my face. He did something to her I just know it! He had to. There really wasn't a reason for him to come unless he wanted to do something to my grandma. She could have recovered. It’s all his fault. I never want to see him again. That’s it! He injected something into grandma when he was by her. That’s why he had a needle. It all makes sense now. I thought to myself as I was getting ready for school.
Days later, I was sitting in the tall chair watching people pass by me to view my grandma. I was in my own little world trying to get my mind off of this whole thing. My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. “I am so sorry for your loss, my dear,” the man paused. “I know that you know what I did to your grandma. You better keep your mouth shut, or you’ll be next.” I looked up and shook his extended hand, and looked at his face. The first thing I noticed was his eyebrows and his suit. The exact same one he was wearing on Sunday. He walked down to the casket and examined my grandma, probably thinking about what a good job he had done. He smirked and turned around, “Well, I do suppose I should go. I’ll return sometime. I promise I won’t pass out next time.” He chuckled and walked out the door.