The place reeked of mayhem and burnt coffee.
It was October 1977, and the screams from the maternity ward rang through the hallways, sparsely occupied by caffeine drugged fathers, wandering from coffee machine to room, and back to coffee machine.
Genene Jones; newly appointed paediatric nurse clocked in for the night shift. She kept busy, welcoming child after child with internal disdain veiled by etched smile. This, her routinely mask had kept her darkness well hidden. But as night grew darker and nurses took to office, the hallways emptied with the caffeine no longer working its remedy on the fathers in ward. Mothers and new born babies rested too in rare and much needed quiet.
This was nurse Jones’ moment. She scanned the hallways before access to room one, no one in sight. Upon entry she approached the bed of the three day old, asleep and content. She took in the little girl’s nearly new-life scent, held her tiny hands in hers and kissed her cheeks… a potential last goodbye.
Tears streamed down nurse Jones face. She felt guilt but not enough to stop her from what she was about to do. She reached into her pocket and took out the hidden pouch.
The edge of the sword spoke of death like a glorified sacrifice… in this case the tip of a heparin filled injection. The little girl remained eyes closed as Jones tapped at the needle she was soon to administer. She took in a deep breath and prayed for forgiveness from a God she blamed for her .
But just as she was about to deliver the deadly dose, the little girl opened her eyes. Golden was the look in her eyes, no malicious intent. A godly awakening and a last call for Jones to do not what she was about to do.
And for a moment she questioned her choice. She had been here before… this moment several times before, but this time she wasn’t going to let doubt or that gaze of born innocence stop her from what she was about to do.
Soon she’d cross the threshold, as the power of putting the little girl’s life in mortal peril and thrusting herself into the role of hero overtook her moral compass.
And so she administered the lethal dose.
‘Code Blue’ sounded nurse Jones. Alarms blared! Parents and children alike awoke. The nurses rushed and found nurse Jones trying to resuscitate.
Just on time….
Little Alessandra survived. All hail nurse Jones for a job well done.
Hail nurse Jones. New rush born! A rush that shaped the formation of Genene Jones, the angel of death.