Free The Poison Morality by Stacey Kathleen Page A

that’s a potential future husband, answer it, don’t keep him waiting.”  Putting the book back in the bag she stood.  The medicine on her cut started to wear off but she wanted to take one last walk through Queen Mary’s Gardens before the rain came.  “Time is the only real enemy.  Don’t keep him waiting,” the man repeated.  The mobile chimed signalling another message, saying her goodbyes to the man, knowing she will probably never see him again. 
    He looked at her and saw a woman incapable of doing something he himself had a hard time doing during wartime but like him it was survival.  It was different of course, there was no war, just making a living.
    On a bench by the fountain, the evergreens lined the perimeter of her favourite part of the grounds; she listened to the succession of messages.    Listening wasn’t commitment of any kind.  First they were just to ask her out again and to make sure she was alright.  And then the messages turned more urgent, worried about her cut and that he had not heard from her, to just a plea to call him to let him know she was okay.  Courtesy dictated she should call him, he had done her a tremendous favour but he witnessed and that made him a potential threat.  Once home, she unloaded the books, she found an eclectic mix, all of which seemed interesting but ironically one of the books she picked up was about World War II.
     

Chapter 7: Playing God
    Oliver called Sophie and left messages, using the excuse of her cut to check up on her, she had not rung back.  The corridors of the hospital were quiet, Oliver stood looking out the window in the direction where Sophie had ran into him, the pavement darkened and slick from the mist of rain that fell all day.  Drops hung from the bare branches of the trees and people walked hidden with their umbrellas, colourful in contrast with the drab.  The day had started warmer and brighter but by the time he had come to the hospital it had turned gloomy, like his mood.
    A gasp came from behind him.  Liam’s mother was hiccupping from hours of crying.  The twelve year old’s body gave up the fight for life; his parent’s hopes of his waking had dissipated a week ago when Oliver told them there was no more brain activity.  It was the machines doing all the work now.  His mother wept, never leaving his side until she absolutely had to, sending the father on errands and he just obeyed her like a zombie.
    They were struggling with the decision to take him off life support.  When asked, Oliver promised to do it for them if that’s what they chose but the decision was a long time coming.  He almost wished Liam would go on his own so they could all be spared this moment. 
    Yet it was an honour that they trusted him to do it, his rapport with them strong.  Any of the doctors or nurses could but they wanted him.  Never had he been asked to “pull the plug” and he never had to before when necessary so he lingered; trying not to be intrusive but available. 
    There was no free time since he had been on call for them.  They were told to call him anytime; that he would be there as soon as possible and today was the day.  It was his day off, he was going to go visit Sam and his family but this was more important and they understood the sacrifices made for his patients.  They would still be there, alive and well.
    Although death was common in this ward, it was completely different when it was a child.  Adults he could handle their deaths, sometimes they made their decisions, they weren’t like children.  Children never knew how not to hope, not to lose faith, not even when the inevitable loomed before their short lives. 
    They were not jaded yet by life’s ups and downs, happy times and desperate times.  Perhaps it’s because they had just come from the other side and not of this world long enough to become scared but the parents, how they were tormented and Oliver was pained along with them.
    They had decided