Beep. Beep. Beep.

Every few seconds, the noise came again; three short bursts followed by a period of silence, then three short bursts again.

It had been repeating for so long that Evelyn couldn’t remember when it had started, or which machine it was coming from. Occasionally it was accompanied by the hiss of heated air through the ductwork above, or the raspy wheeze of her own breathing. Sometimes the murmur of conversation in the hallway added to the noises, the voices coming from unseen people who may as well have been on an entirely separate planet. All of it was the same, predictable, unchanging, and inescapable.

This is so tiresome.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

With another painfully dry cough, Evelyn struggled to roll from her side to her back. It was better to stare at the tiny black dots peppering the foam ceiling tiles than the grey wall of medical equipment and the ugly patterned privacy curtain covering the heavy door that they never fully closed no matter how often she asked. She was pleased that at least they’d remembered to turn the overhead lights out, although the room was never truly dark. The lights in the window from the parking lot far below, and more flooding in from the hallway through the gap under the door, made sure of that.

She let out a painful wheeze that would have been a sigh if her body had still remembered how to make gentle noises. Her eyes traced a familiar path between the dots in the tiles above. Sometimes, if the pain medication was dosed just a little too high, she could imagine that they were constellations instead of holes, and that she was lying in a field under a beautiful open blue sky instead of being trapped in a tiny grey room with only a single window to remind her that the outside world still existed, as it always had, without her.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to dream anymore, and hadn’t for some time.

She opened her eyes again and let out another long, rasping breath, hoping that after this one, she finally wouldn’t draw another. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed as her body automatically pulled in air once more in an increasingly futile action.

Since it's going to end no matter what I do... I'm tired of waiting. There’s no point in dragging it out any longer.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Why can’t it all just stop already? Why does this have to take so long? It’s already been days now since they told me. Shouldn’t it be over by now?

Just set me free already...

“Miss Barraster?” There was a crisp knock on the partially open door frame, then the privacy curtain was pulled aside. The friendly nurse whose name Evelyn had already forgotten was smiling as she entered the room in bright pink scrubs. “I've come to make you a bit more comfortable.”

Evelyn was proud of herself for not rolling her eyes as the woman tapped on the fluorescents at half-strength and headed over to the machines, clicking her tongue as she hit something that finally turned the beeping off. She moved to the sink to wash her hands.

It’s not her fault. She’s just doing her job. I'm plenty comfortable with all this morphine or whatever... They're just trying to make sure I die quietly without disturbing anyone else. My last roommate’s death was pretty awful to listen to, so I don’t really blame them. At least this infection landed me back in the hospital instead of that hospice center.

“Thank you,” she said out loud to acknowledge her.

The nurse looked away from the IV stand with a wrinkled forehead canceling out her strained smile. Evelyn gritted her teeth as she tried to look away without making it obvious she was doing so.

If I see that expression again, no matter who it's on, I'm going to scream.

“I'm sure... they'll get here soon. You know traffic has been so bad lately even at this hour with all the construction, and of course it's unseasonably cold tonight. I heard there might even be snow!” the nurse chirped with forced cheerfulness as she hung up a fresh IV bag and began to attach it to the tube leading to Evelyn’s withered arm. “So the roads might be iced over in some places. I’m sure everyone’s driving extra slowly for safety!”

Evelyn turned back towards her with a blank stare. The nurse’s face became even more awkward as she stammered, “I mean, y-your family is coming... right?”

No. No one is coming.

Evelyn turned her face back to the ceiling, blinking hard against the bitter tears forming. “I don't have any family.”

I don’t have anyone . I only had that small group chat online over the past two years. And I haven't told them I’m dying, either, so… I made even that kind of miracle impossible. Knowing that they could show up but won’t would hurt way more than knowing that they won’t because they don’t even know.

The nurse hesitated as she let the IV tube drop. Looking at her identification badge, Evelyn could remember now that her name was Hayden, and that this was her second week on the job. It was likely that she was going to be the first patient who would die in her ward. “I know it… it’s supposed to be soon. Miss Barraster, would you like me to send someone to be with you? We have a priest on call, or...”

I’d say I’d rather die than listen to more platitudes about moving on to a better place, but, well, I am dying, so that’s kind of pointless.

“No. I'd prefer to… to go alone.” Evelyn shook her head slightly. The unconscious action seemed to take an unusual amount of energy. 

Hayden seemed about to speak again, so Evelyn hurried to interrupt her, trying to sound soothing and at peace.

“Thank you. I appreciate all the work you’ve done for me.”

Ugh, this should have all been written down! Even at the end of my life, people still don't read the paperwork, they just do whatever they think a normal person would want.

She could predict the face the nurse was making again, she could even see it in the reflection of the window if she looked at it rather than the sky outside. The cloud cover was low enough to seem to reflect the lights from the parking lot below, and the nurse's prediction seemed correct—it looked like it might start to snow. Evelyn felt her face soften just a little at the thought.

Snow... That might be a nice final sight.