Free The Poison Morality by Stacey Kathleen Page B

to let him go tonight on his birthday.  They were tearfully saying their goodbyes to Liam but he was already long gone and Oliver tried to remember that when the sadness choked him.
    Both the parents looked at him.  There was no need for them to speak and gently, peacefully, Oliver unhooked Liam’s feeds and the machines.  The beeping sound slowed and when he flat lined, Oliver turned off the monitor, taking mental note of the time.  Placing a hand on each parent’s shoulder, he squeezed in acknowledgment and walked out of the room, the sobbing inside louder. 
    “Did you do it,” Camille’s soft voice whispered, she cradled the crucifix in her hand, she knew what was going on, and she was Oliver’s right hand in the hospital.  She was the faith equivalent to his science.
    Oliver leaned against the wall a few feet from the door, listening to the sorrowful sounds of despair; he was used to those sounds.  He was exhausted but patient.  “Yes,” he was clearly upset; his face revealed sadness, the corners of his mouth turned down slightly, and his hand rested on his chest.  He was dressed in a casual shirt in jeans only having come for the family inside, his weary face showed his dedication.
    “It hurt the heart don’t it, when the young ones go.  But he not suffering anymore,” she put a hand on his arm for comfort that didn’t come.
    Camille closed her eyes and whispered a prayer.
    “Yes, it does,” he waited, his head down, thinking a small prayer of his own then after she kissed the crucifix and crossed herself, “Aren’t you praying for Liam a little too late?”
    “That boy with God now,” her Caribbean escaping through with her words, “he’s with the source of love.  I’m praying for the parents cause only part of them died tonight and they are not fortunate as he is.”
    “There’s nothing to be said to them, nothing can be done but what they asked me to do,” he shook his head, “I hope I never have to do that again for any child,” Oliver ran his hand through his hair, tousling it and shoving his hands in his pockets.
    “You did the right thing.  I pray for you too, Doctor,” she patted his arm.  “No matter how you’re trained or taught nothing prepares you for it.  Pronounce him and go home, get some rest.  I know you’ve been waiting for them,” she nodded indicating the couple inside. 
    Truth was he wanted Sophie more than he wanted to go home.  As bad as he felt he needed to check on her, he didn’t care if she did resist.  Liam’s death pushed the need to see her to the forefront.  After the gloom of this day, he needed some light.   The balance had been shifted and he needed to find balance again by finding Sophie well.
    “When they go, I’ll take care of the rest.”  She squeezed his arm and he nodded in agreement and rounded the corner back into the room.  The parents didn’t acknowledge his presence, heads down on the bed clutching the body that was their son. 
    Scribbling the time of death on the chart and as quiet as he could, he paused looking at the pale, freckled face of the boy.  It was times like these that he was glad he wasn’t a parent but he also realized the twelve years they had with him were the most precious they would ever have.
    In the lounge, Oliver put on his coat, his emotions weighing heavily on him when he heard her behind him.  “I bet you liked turning that boy’s life off, didn’t you?  Like a switch,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that.”
    He turned to see Jacki, hands across her chest, the sarcastic smile exposing white teeth in contrast to her dark skin, her black eyes glaring at him.  He squinted at her, “Excuse me?”
    “You heard me.  I know you like playing God.”
    Oliver just relaxed, unclenching his fists that became an automatic reaction to her presence, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him anymore angry than she already had.  “He had no life anymore and we all have the potential