Smoke by Batool Hasan

“Please, make the pain stop. I can’t take another breath of this anymore.” Her raspy voice cracks as she gulps air between her words.

I stare at the morphine syringe between my gloved fingers.

Don’t make eye contact; it’s easier that way. 

The brightness of my white nursing uniform contrasts harshly with the dirty floor. Temptation races through my veins, and I lift my eyes to look at her wrinkled face bursting with exhaustion as she lies limply on the hospital bed. Thin strands of grey hair lay sprawled on her pillow like puffs of smoke framing her face.

I try to comfort her, “It’s okay; I’m going to make it stop. You won’t feel anything soon.”

I take a step closer and gently hold back the fabric covering her collarbones. Raising the syringe, I aim at the Subclavian vein. The shiny liquid enters her bloodstream as it empties from the syringe.

‘’Just try to breathe slowly, it’s over now.”

I remove the syringe and take a step back as Death takes one closer. I rush outside while stuffing the evidence in my pocket.

Don’t fear the Reaper.

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