Paul stood by his bed, throwing his things into a duffel bag. Charles Kramer’s diary was buried on the bottom. There was no way he was going to forget that. He had a very strong feeling that book was the reason Nurse Fitch was so interested in him, and he wasn’t going to let her get it.
His legs gave out a shriek of pain and he sat down quickly, grimacing as the stitch on his side tugged from the sudden motion. He knew he shouldn’t be on his feet, but he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand being in that room for one more second with that psycho so near by.
"Now you know you shouldn’t be out of bed." Nurse Fitch’s voice was a soft whisper.
The woman stepped into the room quickly, closing the door quietly behind her.
"Get the hell out." Paul tried to stand, but his legs didn’t want to work with him.
"Is that the way to speak to someone whose just trying to help?" The nurse stopped, crossing her hands over her rather large, sagging breasts. She took a step forward, picking up Paul’s chart. She glanced over it. "You’re so young, so healthy." She looked up at him, smiling. "You’ll be perfect."
Nurse Fitch threw down his chart and charged, her hands aiming for Paul’s neck.
He reacted as quickly as he could and swung his bag out, catching the nurse on the side of the head. She went sprawling, and crashed into the wall on the opposite side of the bed.
Paul was on his feet, the adrenaline kicking in, dulling the intense pain from the ripped stitch in his side. He threw his bag over his shoulder and darted for the door. He could feel the warm blood starting to drip from the wound.
He made it into the hallway, but his body caught up with him, and a shock of pain made him stumble. He screamed, falling to the floor.
He could hear Nurse Fitch getting up, groaning in pain. He couldn’t stay there. She would be after him in a second. He tried to get up, but couldn’t. So he did the next best thing. He started dragging himself down the hall, towards the large swinging doors that led into the waiting room.
"Help me!" He screamed.
Nurse Fitch entered the hallway, a small cut on the side of her face trailing blood down her cheek. Her hair was a mess, strands trying to escape the tight bun on the back of her skull. She smiled, pulling the scalpel from her pocket.
"I am trying to help you Paul." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. She giggled.
She slowly stepped towards him, her eyes locked on him as he tried to pull himself away.
"What the hell are you doing?" A young orderly emerged from the nurse’s station, and ran towards them.
When he was close enough Nurse Fitch turned around, her hand slashing through the air, the blade of the scalpel slicing a thin line across the orderlies throat.
"Stay out of this!" She shrieked.
When the young man fell to his knees, a red river flowing from his neck Nurse Fitch grabbed the young man’s shoulder, running her hand through the stream of blood.
She moaned, rubbing the red liquid on her face, her neck, her chest. She was lost in the throws of passion.
Paul watched on in horror as the young man fell to his side, his skin pale, his eyes wide. Nurse Fitch looked at Paul, her face painted in the orderlies blood.
"You’ll make me so pretty." She laughed. "Your youth, your vitality will be mine young man."
She took a step towards him, scalpel raised, ready to strike.
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