The Nurse

By Ryan Fallis

I could tell Jonathan was dead before he even hit the ground. His body lay cold and limp. His eyes gazed longingly into mine with nothing but a flicker of artificial light reflecting off the gentle blue center. The carpet beneath him, now officially his deathbed, was turning from tiny tuffs of white and cream into an ocean of blood soaked sponges. What a mess.
I needed to think of a plan and quickly. Damn, I had bloody handprints on my dress. This called for some detergent, rug shampoo, and plastic. Lots of plastic. I quickly changed into a black and blue pantsuit to make myself invisible to the naked eye out in the night air.
I wrapped body up in about twenty plastic garbage bags and hauled it into the trunk of his car. I thought to myself, ‘Why would this patient come to my house to kill me?’
Oh no, He wouldn’t fit in. I couldn’t put him in the backseat; someone would see something. There was only one thing I could do. I grabbed a hammer and gave his legs a few good hard whacks until I heard the crack of bone. I then folded his freshly broken legs around his head and slammed the trunk shut.

As I slowly reversed the car out of the driveway, I could feel my head throbbing with outlandish thoughts and blasphemous confessions. I reached down and flipped on the radio. Ah yes, the smooth styling of Kenny G. I felt much more relaxed now.
I left the station on smooth jazz as I drove down the freeway for about half an hour until I came to my childhood play spot. It was even more voluptuous in the moonlight. The gray tombstones, the granite angels, and the large family crypt on the very edge of the property.
I delve my hands into my pocket and pulled out the chunky brass skeleton key I had had for years. I then snatched the body from the truck and carried it to the crypt.
I opened the door with the key and looked inside. The long hallway of stairs that led downward was very dark and was almost non-existent if it weren’t for the full moon light that grazed the cold, black stone. I lyed the body in front of me and gently jabbed the body with my foot. Gravity took the work from there. The corpse tumbled down the steps like a sack of old potatoes, into the darkness.
I listened as each stair pushed him even further downward.

Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

Finally, the echoes stopped. I pulled out my large pocketknife and carved another niche on my tally number scarred arm. I adore the sound of slicing flesh.
After the bleeding seized, I shut and locked the crypt door. Kissing the stone doorway, I whispered, “Goodbye Jonathan.” He, he, he. I ran to the car, drove away from the scene, and got ready for work.

* * *

“Now Harry,” I scolded. “I need you to take your medicine.”
He looked at me with disgust. “Why don’t you take your medicine?” he murmured to himself.
“Henry!” I snapped. “I am not a patient here at St. Martin’s Asylum, I am a nurse.”
“Just leave me alone”
“Harry, you don’t have a choice.”
“Neither do you.”
“Take your pills!”
“Mary.” said a voice from behind me. I spun around to find myself face to face with my superior, Anna. “Now Mary, here you are. We’ve been searching everywhere.”
“Ah, Anna.” I happily blurted out. “Harry is refusing to take your medicine.”
“That’s not your job Mary, it’s ours.” she sighed. “Now let me take you back to your cell. No more nurse games for you.”
I screamed angrily in her face. “I want to be a nurse! You don’t know a true hard worker when you see one. All you ever do is hire people who don’t care, like the new guy.”
Mary took me by the arm and with some hard work, placed me in my cell. I watched her through my little window walk to another nurse passing by.
“Have you seen that new male nurse we hired on yesterday?” asked Anna.
“Which one” countered the other nurse.
“The new one, Jonathan.”