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I paled. I knew what that meant.
She was dying.
Her husband had beaten her to death.
“Mrs. Jenkins, I can give you some morphine for the pain, if that’s all right with you.”
She glanced at me. I gave her a small smile and a nod, which seemed to reassure her, and she nodded at Doctor Adams.
Moments later, he came back holding a needle, and I held her hand as he injected it into her left arm.
“That will ease the pain, Mrs. Jenkins.” He looked at me. “I trust you’ll stay with her until she’s asleep.”
I nodded stiffly, and he left. I turned to Lucia with a smile fixed on my face. “You should feel the effects soon.”
“I know … what he meant,” she whispered in a croak. “It’s all right. I don’t want … to be in pain … any longer. This is … for the best.”
My lip trembled as I blinked back tears. I patted her hand, awed by her bravery and saddened by her statement. “I will be here,” I told her simply, trying to keep the emotion from my voice.
“Thank you,” she replied.
She died forty minutes later as I counted the last beats of her pulse.
* * *
“You’re late.Only whores return so late to their homes. Are you a whore, daughter?”
After the evening I’d endured, the last thing I wanted was to come home to find my father sitting in the armchair under candlelight with a bottle in his hand.
“Hello, Father.” Emotionally drained and my soul bruised, I couldn’t listen to his insults. I acknowledged him but walked past the living area to the stairs.
I heard him clink his bottle on the table loudly before I heard his boots stomping toward me. His hand gripped my wrist, pulling it from the banister of the stairs and tugging me back down. I stumbled, using my other hand to balance against the wall, and gasped at the pain in my wrist.
“Don’t you walk away from me when I’m asking you a question,” he spat. “This is my house, and I don’t want a whore living under my roof. Where have you been?”
“At the h-hospital.” I replied, stammering as my heart galloped in my chest.
“Liar,” he shouted, and my ears rang.
“I’m not. Y-you can speak to my w-ward Sister and c-check. I was staying with a p-patient until she p-passed.” I was shaking now. The fury in his eyes frightened me like he never had before.
“You let a patient die? What kind of useless nurse are you?” He scoffed and finally let go of my wrist.
“I didn’t—” I began, but immediately stopped.
Did I let her die?
I could hear her struggling to breathe. I wanted to get the doctor, but she wanted me to stay with her. Could Doctor Adams have done something if I had called for him sooner? Could I have done more? Was it my fault she died?
The thought took my breath away, and I placed a hand on my chest.
As if sensing my vulnerability, he pounced. “Who was she?”
I shook my head, not supposed to discuss patients outside of the hospital.
He didn’t like me denying him; he reached up, grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled, dragging me down so he could stand domineeringly over me.
“Tell me,” he growled.
