Straightening up, I feel numb. This patient probably fell out of bed and no one heard or helped her. Maybe she would’ve died even with help, but either way she was alone, and I can’t help but feel bad for her.
My mind wanders to my father. He abhorred situations like this and that’s exactly why he spoke out. He risked everything by opposing the commander, yet he did it regardless. I hope I possess his bravery, his compassion, and his belief in the dignity of others. Moments like this test my resolve to the core, though. I look at the lady lying before me, and the indecency of her plight makes my neck tighten and my nerves edgy. I turn in one swift motion and bolt back to the nurse’s station.
“She’s rotten, isn’t she? Nasty old hag. What did she want this time?” the head nurse asks.
“She didn’t say a word…” My voice trails off as I try to suppress my emotions.
“Well, did you at least change her linens?”
“No.” I take a step forward and look her full in the face. “She’s dead.”
“Oh. Well, she’s better off stiff.” Her lips draw down in a look of dismay. “I guess you’ll need a new patient, then.” She flips through her charts like nothing happened. I wonder how she does it.
“Give her Alyssa,” a quiet voice from behind her says. “I need a break.” A nurse with silky, black hair peers from behind the charge nurse. She pulls her hair back from her face, revealing an orange brand—gluttony—which distracts me, and I want to punch myself for judging her by the color of her brand.
“I’m not sure she can handle her.”
“She needs someone to take care of her, and I’m not going to do it,” the quiet girl says. “I can’t.”
“Okay, she’s all yours.” The charge nurse points toward a wooden door at the end of the hallway. “Room six.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I’m not thrilled about meeting another patient after the last one turned up dead.
“She’s sick,” the head nurse huffs.
I get the feeling I’m missing some crucial piece of information and she’s not willing to give it to me. So I shake it off and stand straight before putting my hands on my hips. “I’m not going anywhere till you tell me. You can’t expect me to just walk in there and pretend I know what’s wrong.” The head nurse gives me a stern look. “Please.”
“There’s nothing we can do for her except try to keep her comfortable. Her pain is difficult to manage. Sutton’s trying everything he possibly can, but there isn’t enough morphine here and the commander won’t allow us to have more medicines since it’s all for sinners anyway. What she has now is all we have left. So we need to make it last until she—” The quiet nurse chokes on her words. “Until she dies.”
I’m still as a statue, hardened like stone. They want me to take care of someone who’s dying? My heart sinks into my stomach, churning with anxiety.
“She’s too weak to get out of bed, so you’ll need to give her a bed sponge bath, and please, whatever you do, make sure you don’t drop her IV bag. If you do, the gravity will cause her blood to go back up into the IV line and possibly into the morphine bag, which will dilute it and make it harder to administer the correct dosage.”
The charge nurse describes the IV, what it looks like, where it hangs, and how it enters her veins. And she says not to touch her blood no matter what. My head spins with the newly acquired information.
“Whatever she has lives in her bloodstream and it’s lethal.” The dark-haired nurse hands me a paper. It reads like a tombstone, her name carved in black letters on the thin sheet of paper.
I can do this. Just go in, check her, and get out. Hopefully, she won’t want a bath or her linens changed. I knock on the door three times, drop my hand to my side, and that’s when I feel just how badly my body is shaking in anticipation.
“Go away,” Alyssa croaks weakly. I ignore her request and walk in, closing the door behind me. There’s a sheet hanging from the ceiling, which I assume is for her privacy, but it blocks my view of her and, for a moment, I’m thankful.
“Alyssa?” She doesn’t answer me and the fear of the unknown seeps into my bones. My palms sweat and my heart thumps with anxiety, so I stay behind the curtain. “I’m Lexi.” Still nothing. I bite my lip. “The nurses asked me to come check on you and see if there’s anything I could do for you.”
Please don’t die on me. Please don’t die. I clench my eyes shut, grab the sheet, and move it to the side. I exhale, pushing out all the fear that’s trapped in my chest, then open my eyes and look at her.
I gasp.
Alyssa’s eyes snap open. She gives me a blank stare and makes no attempt to talk as she turns her head toward the window. Her skin’s so thin it’s almost transparent, and her dry, cracked lips are the faintest shade of pink. She has crystal-blue eyes that contrast the dark circles underneath them, and her dirty-blond hair lies in silky threads across her makeshift pillow. Enclosed around her neck is a yellow brand for greed.
She glares at me. Her body trembles as her fragile finger points toward the door. “Get out. Now. Leave me alone.” She pulls the cover over her head.
I can’t believe it. Alyssa’s just a child.
She lies in a bed that swallows her whole and she curls up with a thin white blanket. Her head rests on a rolled-up towel and her eyes remain closed. I’m unable to look away, but out of the corner of my eye, I spot the folding chair across from her bed. I tiptoe over to it, slide down, and as soon as I sit, the darn thing makes an awful squeaky sound. I jerk forward. I feel light-headed as reality settles in, and I feel my insides squirm in panic. My eyes blur with heartbreak. I close them, and after a moment, the sensation fades, and I glance her way one last time.
I bolt from the room and close the door behind me before sliding down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest in exasperation. It’s not the kind of patient you want to take care of—ever. What hell this girl must be going through, knowing she’s going to die alone, just like the lady down the hall. Pain squeezes my chest tight.
The dark room envelops me. When I look up, he stands at the foot of the bed. His face is hard and cold. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. Knowing I can’t call for help, he sits next to me. His hot breath overpowers my sense of smell, and the callouses of his hands scratch my skin as he touches my arms. I cringe, but his arms wrap me up like a small child. I tense up and wait—the unknown, always the unknown. I don’t want to die, but at the same time, I wish I were dead.
“Lexi, can you hear me?”
I open my eyes and Sutton hovers over me with a worried expression. He reaches around my shoulders and helps me up. “You’re drenched with sweat. Are you all right?” He glances around for a nurse. “Amber, please grab my stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. At the nurse’s station.” The auburn-haired nurse Cole often talks to grabs his things and hands them over with a sour face. “Did you eat anything today? It could be your blood sugar—”
“I’m fine. Trust me. I get these dizzy spells occasionally and sort of check out for a while, but I always come around.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to focus. “Please just let it go.”
His expression softens as he kneels in front of me. “I can’t let it go. I’m a doctor, remember?” He pushes his hair off his forehead. “I’ll find a way to make them stop.”