The Damned Scribe

PART 5 Text: “Hey hun, hope you’re doing alright. Just wanted to let you know, Mikey’s cough got a lot worse. Let me know what I can give him. Thanks <3” The text from Jim, the one from yesterday. I saw it while I was working the floor. Didn’t think anything of it. Didn’t have […]

PART FOUR Emptiness. That’s me. I’m a shuffling ball of nothingness, void of feeling in my arms and legs. An empty space where Cynthia should be, but instead, there’s just this husk wearing her name tag, her blood-splattered scrubs. Her face. Where a smile should be, there’s just nothing. Typically, when a shift like this

PART 2 I rush toward the restroom, passing by the halls, orderlies, and doors full of patients. My stomach churns violently, and I barely make it to the bathroom door. As soon as I open it, I vomit, spewing all over the mirror. The reflection of my insides is now grotesquely painted outside. I feel

PART ONE The doors are heavier than I remember. My arms strain against them; they bar my passage, but I’ve already lost too much time. I put the weight of my body into the steel. They do not give. But neither do I. I’ve gone round for round with death over the lives of my