Time Of Death...11:44

This short journal entry was formed immediately after I had responded to a call A few blocks from my station.

Time Of Death...11:44

When the tones drop, my heart never fails to sink into my chest. Mistaken for eustress, I feel Epinephrine unexpectedly place her lips on the back of my neck, and kiss. Her lips remain cold as I feel the electricity shoot down my spine, she makes her presence aware once more, and my conscious mind demands focus.

As I stare into the black box of wires and circuitry, yet again, the tones speak sorrowful. "Medic unit 1, medical-aid, bravo response. 30 year old female, 1144 confirmation". The words ring throughout my skull, ricocheting throughout the walls of my consciousness. Focus catches a hold, and tears the imprinted words from their place, as focus rightfully claims asylum, and plunges the words deep into the dark of my subconscious, awaiting their inevitable return.

We rush towards the rig and equip ourselves. Hit the lights, and sound our call to those around us. Become aware, blast the sirens, burrow past those who are present in the midst of their better days, and arrive to those who can't remember the last time they witnessed them. We arrive on scene to find our presence had been long awaited. It always feels, long awaited. The faces above and beneath the staircase leading to this small povertous apartment, display that of a familiar expression. Gravity becomes merciless, pulling their hearts to the cold cement, along with their posture. Failing to remain neutral, focus retreats to their subconscious, as sorrow slowly sinks its claws into the back of their eyes, and buries its feet. It is unquestionable, it is here to stay.

We climb the cement stairs, the endless climb to meet with that familiar face we all meet sooner than later in our profession. The cloaked, sunken face of Death. Cardiac monitor in hand, and emotion forced out the door, we feel his presence lurking behind as we enter her room. The silent story begins, as her aura paints it's picture. Into the dark abyss beyond Death's hood, I can feel his eyes slowly burning a hole through the back of my neck, burning away the lingering print once left by Epinephrine’s lips. I step over the medication scattered at her feet, and struggle with focus as he forces me to into view. I feel Death place his cold hands on the sides of my head, and force my eyes onto what lay before us. A crinkled flower, swept away in the comfort of her blankets.. She lay quiet and still on her side, as pill bottles mimic her position at the foot of her queen mattress. Emesis sprouting from her cyanotic lips like a waterfall, and settling on her cheek. She lay in a beautiful dress, as jet black and thin as her lifeline
.

Death follows us with his gaze as we step closer to reveal the certainty of his work. I unravel the cardiac leads as focus watches close. The icy cold adhesive finds its way to her chest and hugs her skin as I press down. We turn to our monitor, and lean in to view our results. The unforgiving shriek of sharpened nails dragging across an unseen surface bursts from inside. Death sweeps in, reaching in close, he drags his claw in a flat-line across our monitor's screen. She is gone.. and Death made it clear. We pronounce in Death's name, and concede to his practice. "Time of death.. 11:44".