Diana Daniels.

Beep! Beep! Beep! A cardiograph sounded as it charted the beat of a weathered heart. The porous green walls of the segregated ward seemed rather foreshadowing of death as dark shadows clutched at them like claws. Gibbous moonlight crept through the slanted blinds and stripped the linen of a lone bed where a motionless patient lay. She slowly cupped her mouth and rattled her chest with a cough that filled her palm with blood. Any remnants of colour were drained from her skin and she became a porcelain doll with her large eyes and single expression.

“Doctor, doctor! I need a doctor in ward E immediately!” called a panic stricken nurse when she made out the subtle decrease in cardiovascular rhythm. Sweat beaded her forehead and her clammy fingers struggled to jot down the inspection on her clipboard. The adolescent girl had been caretaking the patient as per an internship to put on her curriculum vitae and was still new to caregiving.

She had read up every detail about her patient: Diana Daniels, a voracious businesswoman and vastly known name in the fashion industry. She had conceived a boy the previous week and suddenly fell violently ill. Doctors said she was afflicted with a pathogen no amount of medical or scientific research could discern, thus they could not procure any counteractive measures to save Diana's life. Not only was she on the brink of death at 27, her husband Dwayne Daniels lost his life in a motor vehicle accident on his way to her on the day she was expected to give birth. Her still unnamed baby boy was doomed to be orphaned from even before his birth.

The story was a touching one and gave the girl incentive to make every passing day a better one for her patient. Fortunately the illness was not contagious and so she could treat Diana as she would any other patient. Work associates and close friends came and went into Diana's ward, the most frequent visitor being hers and her late husband's mutual lawyer. They would chat at great lengths about what she assumed to be her will and such proceedings.

“Sophie.”

She heard her name and immediately looked up. Diana's face was hard to look at: sunken cheeks, hollow and dark circles around her eyes, wrinkled blue lips and small black veins etching the path to death on her face. It was a sharp contrast to the beautiful face that had been admitted just a few days ago,“Yes ma'am?”

“Please co—” a second dry cough scrapped Diana's throat and more blood filled her palm and stained her sheets, “—please come closer.”

With her heart racing, Sophie complied and strode over to her bedside, put the clipboard onto the cardiac table and crouched to take her clean hand. She took Diana's cold, bony hand in two of her own very warm and fleshed hands, “I'm here ma'am.”

For the briefest of moments Diana was quiet as she seemed to process whatever it was she required from Sophie. Sickness really was a cruel thing. One that settled in a person's body and destroyed them from within. Sophie wished she could locate this pathogen and rip it from Diana's body. It was really hard to watch such an admirable person crumble.

“You've taken such good care of me and made the stay worthwhile,” she began slowly with this distant, glassy look in her eyes, “I really wish our paths could have crossed sooner and elsewhere because there's so much we could have gotten done together,”

“In this sorry state all I've managed to do was cause you tr—”

“—Don't say that!” Sophie softly commanded and cut her short. The way Diana spoke in that moment was painful enough, so having her belittle herself was one blow too much, “I came here with caregiving in mind. This is my choice and I won't let you badmouth yourself over my personal duties.”

Diana let loose this painful chortle as she smiled, “Yes, I know I was amazing, but that's all over now. I'm leaving you with something precious and ask that you give it as much care as you've given myself.”

Sophie's brow creased in confusion, “Huh? Why me?”

“You'll understand soon enough.” she said and looked at their hands, “Please forgive me in advance for making this decision without having consulted you first.”

“Ma'am, you're not making sense,” responded a perplexed Sophie. Was death rattling her wits?

“Does anything in this life ever make sense?” Diana asked. Her voice was distant, as though she had been thinking aloud. That's when Sophie saw the first tears rolling down her cheeks and felt her brittle grip tighten on her hands.

Sophie could not answer. Nor could she understand why Mrs Daniels's grip had become so stiff until she looked up to see her foaming at the mouth. Instant panic shoot through her body like static and she got to her feet. She gently peeled her fingers from Diana's and was now aware of the rapid beeping of the cardiograph.

Once untangled, she wanted to burst through the double doors and into the hallway but just then, a middle aged man in a white coat made his appearance. He was pulling on the last of his latex gloves, “I came as soon as I cou—”

His eyes widened the instant he saw the froth at her mouth, “—Sophie get me a 2 milligram narcan shot immediately and then leave. You were urgently requested by Mrs Daniels's lawyer in the waiting room.”

The doctor hustled over to Diana's bed and took the hand Sophie had been holding. It was a professional, firm grip. He turned it over and when Sophie handed him the injection, he tried to plunge it into Diana's cephalic vein but the needle bent in contact with her skin, “What?”

As Sophie turned to reluctantly walk away, she heard the heart monitor hasten and then out came a heartwrenching scream from Diana. She also saw the doctor throw his needle aside and move back a bit to avoid being struck as the patient thrashed about violently. Tears rimmed Sophie's eyes as she pushed the doors open and slowly walked away. Just several places away, the screaming seized and a sharp, agonal breath left with Mrs Daniels's life. Sophie's heart felt the serpentine coil of grief over her heart as she walked on.