A Eulogy to my Love

If you had warned me of this tragedy, of the unforeseen inhumanities of what I have and will do, I would have 1) Not believed you, and 2) Would have been appalled at the great lengths I had violated my duty and right as a doctor to ethically serve the sick and injured.

It's not that I had malicious intent, not truly. I have saved hundreds of people, worked day and night to help people! I never would intend to do such a thing; you have to believe me!

Oh, that annoying bitch of a maid we hired. Milly always coined the term "Cleaning Assistant", loathing the word "maid” as she found it "degrading". I always abided by this, but as of late there has not been a proper way to describe the horrid person that Minerva was. Minerva, our loyal maid who had worked with us since we set the foundation of this very house, had attempted to accuse her master of a crime so insulting I had to do something about it.

My dear Milly, you will frown on me once you realize what I had done. Minerva was going to call the cops and try to frame me! I may be an innocent man, but an accusation this extreme might as well be as bad as me committing the crime anyway. My career would be ruined, my reputation brutally tarnished, and you, my love, would be taken away from me like the innocence of a child.

I executed my response to Minerva's actions very meticulously and beautifully. If the situation had been different, perhaps you could've even been impressed.

I am no forensic scientist, but I knew the extents I had to go to prevent any evidence from being left behind. The cleaning supplies I kept stocked in the basement made any cleanup easy - but other evidences would prove to be difficult.

It was dreadfully cold outside, and I had noticed the morning before that the gutters I used to empty your catheter had leaked, leaving yellow icicles hanging from them like fangs. When Minerva had announced her plan, I knew what I had to do.

Of course, I grabbed her on the spot and did what I could to sedate her gently. I originally wanted to take an anesthetic and sedate her, a smooth way to handle the situation. Perhaps if I had spoken about this, I could've convinced Minerva to comply instead of what really happened. I had to throw her onto the hardwood floor of my cellar - My cellar! My cellar! - and swiftly hit her in the back of the head with a half-empty bottle of rum. She was instantly unconscious and had splattered blood all over my liquor and cigars.

Perhaps fueled by rage over this mess, I dragged her out of my cellar and into the living room. Even with the large windows we had installed, my dear Milly, nobody was about to see what I would do.

I left Minerva's limp body on our living room carpet as I retrieved one of the icicles and easily sank it deep into her leg, severing several tendons and rendering her unable to walk. The tip of the icicle began to melt easily in the warmth of her blood, and sure, it contained traces of your genetic code, but who would think it was you? My dear, it would be so incredibly rude and outlandish for an officer to blame you for such a crime. It would be impossible for you to do such a thing. You are too kind, too gentle, too tolerable of people even like the traitorous Minerva to do this.

I had no time to address the mess in our living room. I know how much that room meant to you, and you furnished and decorated it well, but everything had to go in the morning.

Then, I dragged Minerva's body down into the basement amidst the cleaning supplies and tied her to a chair with the wires that were running through the house. I had ensured these wires were heavy-duty and well protected, it would be difficult for them to break and fail. I took these wires and wrapped them around her ankles and wrists to secure her to the chair and wrapped one through her mouth like the bit of a horse to secure her to the backrest. I had to leave her then because I had to administer your medicine.

My heart glows when I see you, inflates in my ribcage that's just too small for the wealth of feeling I have for you.

I cannot believe Minerva would attempt to accuse me of Medical Malpractice.

I walk over to you, careful not to trip the wires and tubes throughout the room. It's a shocking sight, I know.

I cradle your cold cheek, looking down at you with a full chest and light spirit. I wish I could hear your voice, but I had to remove all your teeth three months ago because they had rot. The sickness had shown itself in your tongue, I had to remove it. I know how you cried when you saw your smile disappear, but I love you, nonetheless. My dear Millicent, you will always be beautiful to me.

I administer the medicine through the IV by your bedside. A cocktail of painkillers and medicines to tame your suffering. You cannot speak, and you can barely do much but blink when you have the spirit, but I know this is better than an untimely death. This virus has been cruel to you.

I lift the blankets and check the catheter. I can't believe it's been five months! I recall how ashamed you were when the virus had spread to your bladder, and I had no other choice. You could barely walk on your own anyway, even with my help the loss of your legs was a harsh adjustment.

Oh, and how I wish I could hold your hand. It was so small in mine, and so soft. I remember the grief that ransacked me when I realized the decay in your beautiful fingers and had to remove each one along with the palm. You couldn't play the piano anymore, and you were bedridden with no consistency but the noises of the medical machinery around you and my care.

I was suddenly feeling better today, oddly optimistic, but felt horrible that I couldn't properly feed you. You are unable to gesture or ask for it, but I always kept a supply of liquified cheesecake that I could feed orally just for you. However, I had noticed in the last few weeks that whenever I tried this, you nearly choked to death on it. I am still unable to find evidence that the virus had spread to the muscles in your throat, but regardless I had to resume feeding you only through a tube in your little stomach. Sometimes I feed the liquid cheesecake through the tube for you, praying somehow that you can taste it. Today I did so, along with your dose of nutrients and various macros.

After checking the other machinery and your stats, I sat beside you and gazed upon your still, solemn face. Oh, I wish I could see you talk and smile and laugh again. I wish I could take you out to the Wisteria Tree and see your hair ripple in the wind. You had the most beautiful blonde hair; I can still remember it's hue even six months after you lost all of it. Even the hair on your eyebrows and eyelids and arms and legs are completely gone.

Nonetheless, you are alive and breathing with me - even if it's through a breathing tube - and I love you so, so much. Even with you limbless, motionless in our king-size bed in our bedroom now full of tubes and wires and machines, I still love you, Millicent, as much as the day I promised I would make you my wife.

"I love you." I said, over the sounds of the machines in the room.

I nearly jumped with joy when I saw your eye open slightly, just for a moment. Barely, I saw the dimmed glacier blue of your eyes before you shut them again.

I wish I could stay longer, but I had a mess to dispose of.

I returned to the basement, and by then Minerva was awake and bleeding all over the floor. Her eyes were wide, and she was attempting to speak through the wire in her mouth, but all that came out was garbled nonsense.

I sighed, seeing the crimson mess that was her leg, and decided to pull out a medical bag from one of the nearby shelves and try to fix her up. I lifted her skirt and tried to dab the wound with some gauze, eliciting a whine from her. However, I realized this task was far more daunting once I saw the sickly purple tint that was spreading in her flesh, making her wound turn black.

"Well," I said, looking Minerva in the eye. "You've been infected with the virus. As a doctor and medical professional, I'm going to have to take appropriate measures to prevent the spread to the rest of your body."

There was a moment of silence, Minerva surely in shock of what I just said and processing what I would have to do.

"Don't," Her voice was strained, her words muffled and soft by the wires obstructing her jaw and tongue. "You touch me. I'd rather die."

I had Minerva's leg on the floor shortly, along with all the blood her body was willing to offer.

Minerva had stopped screaming halfway through the process, I was thankful since I hated hearing her voice. But as I sat in the silence, something dawned on me.

Throughout that amputation, I wasn't motivated by the duty to save her life as a doctor - but was rather driven mad trying to inflict pain and revenge on the woman who tried to ruin my life. I hadn't even bothered to administer painkillers or manage the blood loss. I was focused on removing her leg and making her regret her accusation. I had performed malpractice to the degree of murder, and I had willingly done so without a second thought.

So, now I had to get rid of the body.

With no other options, I dragged the body and severed leg up the stairs, out of the bloody living room, and towards the Wisteria Tree in our backyard.

Dear, I cannot apologize for this. An awful thing, I know! That beautiful tree is the mark of our home, our love, of my engagement to you forever as my lover and only. But the town knows how much that tree means to me, and who would think that I would bury Minerva under the tree? Who would even look for the body? With the characteristics and origin of this virus still unknown, trying to find the body was a suicide mission. If I was ever a suspect, and the authorities tried to investigate the backyard, all I had to say was that an infected raccoon had died by the tree, and they would never know. A clever plan.

I was lucky that the ground wasn't frozen solid yet and had the body in the ground by the time the neighbors were home from work. And in time for me to administer your medicine again.

However, when I returned a haunting sound was resonating from your room.

I was up the stairs and in the bedroom as fast as I could and was shocked to see the monitor for your heartbeat revealing a flat line.

How had this happened? Your stats were fine, I had administered everything on schedule. You even had the energy to open your eyes and look at me. How? How? How?

I hurried downstairs to the basement to grab my medical supplies. Perhaps I can save you, there has to be a way! I've resurrected many patients before, I have to- I have to-

As I reached the bloody mess where Minerva died, I found my culprit.

One of the wires was severed into two. Judging from the saliva that hung from the line like laundry, it was the very wire that I shoved into Minerva's mouth.

I followed the wire back up the stairs, to the bedroom, and to the very machine that was helping Milly breathe.

The grief that snatched my body was so brutal I had no rational thought in mind other than to rip the rest of the wires and tubes in your body and cradle you in my arms. But as I cried and wailed like a child, holding you like my life depended on it, I found myself disturbed. I couldn't bring myself to believe that what I held was you, or could be regarded as human at all.