Some People Suck at Murder Pt. 2
When she reached the sporty little dodge neon, she climbed inside and broke down into tears. She didn't know how much time had passed. She could only gauge by how much sweat had penetrated her paper scrubs. It wasn't until a co-worker tapped on the glass giving her a start that she'd had any presence of mind to make any observation of time at all. She opened the window trying to inconspicuously wipe the tears and smudged mascara from her face. "Are you alright? What are you still doing here?" the fellow nurse inquired. The feigned concern in the forced inflection of her voice was clearly discernible to Victoria. She knew those saccharine tones all too well. She was a master of the art. "Do you need me to call someone for you?" Oh, no" Our nurse replied in an equally sugary tone. "I'm alright, it’s just one of those days, you know." I was just heading home. I'm fine really." She insisted. All the while she was fumbling for her keys and attempting to regain some measure of composure. She closed her window kind of waving to the other nurse in a half thankful, half dismissive gesture before backing out of the parking space. The scene was almost too sickening. "Now I know where they get the fodder for those hospital soaps." She mentally scoffed as she sped out of the parking garage.
On the drive home she tried not to think about the day gone by or the one to come. She entered her apartment and smiled. Her smile segued to a huge grin that twisted and broadened. Suddenly, she was giggling, snickering then cackling. "Hahaha. Jesus. I'm cracking up. Literally! Some people need to be put out of their misery. It was the right thing to do. For fucks sake. "Then there was a cheerful humming as she sauntered to the kitchen to feed her Yorkies.”Dahlia, Orchid. Let's eat, my darlings."
But was it the right thing to do? The question kept haunting her as well as the face of poor Mrs Collins. Victoria couldn't get the horrible imagines out of her mind no matter how much she tried to convince herself that what she did was a good thing. All of the stories you hear about peaceful passing and drifting away. What a crock of shit! Why did she even take that stupid job? She should've stayed in the ER. "At least the people that expire in that department aren't my sole responsibility or my doing." She muttered out loud to no one though a bit under her breath at the latter part.
Images of the day kept flashing back into her mind's eye. The stealthy way she'd prepared. Saving up the extra morphine from old Mr. Thompson who's so out of it he'd never notice whether he's getting actual drugs or saline. She'd been so proud of her self. Pfft. Until the time came. Shaking her head in disgust as she recalled that fiasco. When she injected that so-called "Hospeace Cocktail" Mrs. Collins started seizing, gasping and reaching out for her. Tears were streaming down her face. What happened to the drifting off to sleep? She was turning blue. Gasping between breaths. "Oh dang it. Tori, you idiot. You mixed up the syringes." She began to piece the events together. She must have injected the potassium first! Fudge. It was just moments but those moments seemed like forever. The look on her face was still haunting her. She remembered covering up her head with the blanket which only made things worse. The lady must have been afraid. She started flailing around trying to call out in that t awful weak cry. Her tiny voice. "vicky, vicky... help me... what's happening.."
Victoria shuddered as she remembered. She despised being called Vicky. She despised Mrs. Collins. She just wished she'd just die already. He well laid plan wasn't working. That had made her even angrier. She'd lower the head of the bed. That would help the situation. That's when she covered her face with the pillow and put all of her weight onto it, drowning out that frail, weak little voice. That tiny voice that belong to condescending, rich bitch, Mrs. Collins whom had called her "vicky" all those times. Mrs. Collins whom couldn't even die right. One of the nursing assistants walking by the room just as Mrs. Collins had begun to release her bowels all over herself, the bed and Victoria's left shoe. Victoria had to feign that she was fluffing a pillow. My god! How lame was that? Who does that?? But she couldn't have her coming in to offer assistance, with a murder! She mentally smacked herself in the forehead, rolling her eyes as she recalled her own idiocy. That's when Victoria felt the first lurch in her stomach since she'd arrived at home and what a lurch it was. That wave of nausea nearly toppled her. She staggered to the bathroom blowing small breaths through her pursed lips a tactic which usually staved off her emesis. Victoria put a cool washcloth to the back of her neck and relaxed for a moment but the wave began to rise again when the smell returned. Ugh. As a veteran RN with a cast iron stomach, she had never remembered being made ill by a smell in her entire life. Her left foot curled and recoiled involuntarily with the memory of this afternoon's particulars.
At that moment remembered how that stupid, stupid woman just kept hanging on. She hadn't felt sorry for her at all. All that she felt, she felt for Jordan Collins. She couldn't stand seeing her husband cry. That poor broken, Godlike man left all alone with that baby. She knew there would be another Mrs. Collins along any moment to console him. "I wish I could be the one to take his pain away." There it was finally. She had vented. She remembered the truth. She wanted HIM. "Oh GOD. How selfish. “She whispered. “Did I just murder a woman for her husband?" What did I do? I'm so screwed. They're gonna know." She cried like she had not cried in so long. Hard heavy ugly cry wails. Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Her stomach cramped and knotted. Victoria coughed until she made herself throw up tears and phlegm.
There was repeated knocking at the door. The twin Yorkies were dancing around in circles barking. The stern voice outside kept calling out over and over. "Miss Matthews? Miss Matthews? Open the door. We need to ask you a few questions. Miss Matthews?" Victoria composed herself, freshened up her face to greet her callers because what she was hearing from the other side of the door was. "Mrs. Collins, Mrs. Collins, will you open the door please?"