The Cutting Edge

Caroline Busey slowly made her way down the deserted hall of Merlin Bay Hospital, her rubber soled shoes echoing softly off the linoleum floor. It was her third patrol in the past four hours, but it was quiet, and when it was quiet, it was boring. The Emergency Room would have some life, but with the visiting hours over in the main building, and the nurses gathered in the breakroom between their rounds, Caroline knew she had the place pretty much to herself.

Michelle Westhouse lay in the hospital bed, oblivious to the presence above her. Her complexion pale, she looked fragile and small against the many contraptions around her. Caroline almost changed their mind, almost walked away to focus on someone else. However, with the limited number of similar cases, Michelle had to be the one. With a steady hand, a miniscule cut to two bags, it was done. Walking quickly out of the room and around the corner, she slowed to a steady pace. By the time the fluid ran out, and the oxygen stopped going to the lungs, she'd be far removed from the area, and once again, suspicion would fall elsewhere.

At 3:18am, the alarm sounded in room 427, Michelle Westhouse. Everyone responded, and everyone tried to revive her, but unlike the other two cases, Michelle never came to. Her death was pronounced ten minutes later, and a full investigation would come to play.

Caroline stood in the doorway, and glanced over the crowd. Once determined that she could be of no help, walked back to her desk to write a report. As she sat down, she pulled out her penknife, making sure that there was no plastic or telltale moisture. She hadn't wanted Michelle to die, she had just wanted to liven up the quiet night, just like before. Now that it happenend, however, she felt a thrill, and knew there'd be a next time.