Killer - an Angel of Death?

Hospital Visiting Hours Are Over

The time was late enough that during their rounds the nurses said good night and dimmed the lights, and just like any other night at the hospital, the exact time didn't matter. Time had already lost its meaning once every day became the same routine, designed to keep you alive, yet it felt like you weren't even living. Now it was time for her to close her eyes, laying there listening to the faint beeps that monitored her heart, almost as proof that she was still alive.

Just as she'd started settling in she heard the door open, someone entered and closed the door behind them. Even in the dim lights that white doctor's coat was very visible, it was what she saw when she turned her head towards the door. From the heavy footsteps as he approached her she knew it was a man even before he towered over her, looking at and adjusting something on the monitor. It only brought minor confusion, perhaps the nurse had failed to mention that he'd be coming by? They were always in such a rush. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing and eventually he spoke.

"How was your day?"

Polite small talk, only he didn't sound interested nor did he wait for an answer. Instead he started speaking at her, not to her, calmly recounting his day. She barely paid any attention, tiring work and even more tiresome coworkers, a self-absorption she'd noticed in other doctors as well. He was moving things around as she patiently waited for him to finish so that she could go back to trying to sleep.

That's when he pulled out a syringe from underneath his coat and put it down in her bed, she could clearly see it but had no way to reach it. She felt him cover her mouth with something in between her mouth and his hand, that muffled her eventual cries for help, with the rest of them drowned out in the hustle and bustle of the busy hospital.

The calmness of his voice hadn't changed at all, making his words all the more eerie as he started recounting his previous victims, all injected with poison. How much they'd struggled, or not, how long until the poison eventually had stopped their heart and put an end to their lives. She tried to kick the syringe off the bed, only to fail, as he assertively held her arm to the metal bar while wrapping the tubes around both. With her other hand she was frantically trying to find the button to call for help, but to no avail as he'd already moved it from her reach.

Nothing she did seemed to be able to shake his calm and assertive ways, as he picked up the syringe she could only watch in horror. She'd already known that she wasn't going to leave this hospital alive. She'd come to terms with the fact that these were her final days, weeks, months. She'd even wanted it to be over, so why now? Why did she so desperately want to live now that her end was in sight?

Her heart was racing, but the beeping that she'd listened to earlier still sounded the same. Not that she paid it any attention, all her focus was on the syringe as he injected its contents into her IV and his calm words that caused more alarm than they were soothing.

"I can't promise that this won't hurt, it most likely will, but it'll all be over very soon."

Even as he put the empty syringe back into his pocket, she fought to stay alive. With his free hand he was checking her pulse, it was racing, then became irregular before he couldn't feel it at all. Her body had become limp, and the beeping continued as he calmly packed up the rest of his belongings, then left the room, leaving behind only the coat he'd put over his attire.

By the time the monitor warned the staff that she'd flatlined, he'd already left the hospital. Taking a break in the otherwise empty smoking zone looking back at the hospital. When he pulled out his pack of cigarettes he softly laughed and muttered barely audibly under his breath.

"Smoking kills, and so do I."

He sighed as he lit the cigarette and inhaled. It wasn't even funny, the absurdity of it all, but you had to laugh at something. How else does one fit into this mindless world?

From the outside you couldn't even tell that someone had recently died, but it happened all the time. The woman whose death he was responsible for was just one of the many deaths they'd seen that day, he knew that. Eventually he put out his half finished cigarette and started walking back to his car. Just like any other night.