sugarcoating { bells/hyacinth ; blitz }

hyacinth.

She made her rounds and retreated to the break room for a cup of coffee – blacker than the night sky, and stronger than any drop of liquor on her tongue. Exhaustion was kicking in too early for her tastes. It made her grumpy and more aloof than usual. Her patients didn’t deserve to suffer because of her late night responsibilities, so she chugged the coffee as quickly as she could. Caffeine wasn’t healthy for the hands; her anxiety would rise to a mountain’s peak and her hands would tremble, but there were no bodies scheduled for the day. In that sense, she was free.

One measly sandwich later, she wandered back into the halls and checked on their youngest patient. She was a weak and pale piece of porcelain, but a few days from now the color would return to her. It was not an illness a little bit of nurturing and rest couldn’t cure. It was just a matter of waiting.

Instincts jumpstarted her heart the moment she heard a terrible scream. The worst possibility lodged itself into her brain – Peacekeepers. One had finally come to claim her. They had turned their back to her, grown tired of her, and wanted to see her suffer for her family’s misdeeds. She knew the scream belonged to one of her sisters.

They’re going to hurt her.

She grabbed a scalpel and raced into the corridor. If she was going to face execution, she might as well leave a mark. She knew which blood vessels bled the most. She had a fighting chance. A million in one, but it was a chance.

It was little Belle who bolted up to her, panic-stricken.

”What? What is it?”

hyacinth.

”I killed someone, Hyacinth.”

She set the scalpel down on one of the nearby trays. Murder meant an eliminated threat, so there was no imminent danger, no reason to panic. Her heart settled itself in her ribcage and she listened to the tremors in her sister’s voice. She had murdered one of the patients. An accident, no doubt. Poison disguised as treats and beverages were the usual way to ensure the transformation from a medical bed to a death bed, but she had evidently drugged one of the healthy ones.

This meant jeopardy to their name and reputation. This meant a cover up, a clean-up. They had to wipe everything off of the record and dispose of the body.

Unless someone decided to harvest their organs too.

”First we have to lower our voices. We can’t be screaming about this in the halls,” she said, eyes darting from door to door, wondering if anyone had overheard the commotion. It was impossible to ignore such a piercing scream.

She wanted to sigh. There was no way to punish an accident, and no reason to scold somebody who might have an anxiety attack. They had to be calm about thus. Hyacinth had to be the angel of reason.

”Show me the body,” she said.

She wished Eirlys was here.