White City Murder Expo
Chapter 45
I am very enthusiastic about my new business, and I am waiting for the harvest to complete each order seriously. In addition to drug delivery, I have also developed a door-to-door consultation service, which of course is only provided privately to those "loyal old customers", That is to say, the subjects I chose, and gave them some special medicines to relieve symptoms-needless to say, they were all harmless and useless placebos.In order to make the imaginary effect more obvious and to consider my follow-up plans, the medication is often given in the form of injections. I hope they can get used to this treatment as soon as possible, and when faced with the fatal injection Accept it meekly and calmly, as always.
My efforts have basically paid off as expected.Over time, they gradually began to trust me, and that attitude could not be overstated.People who are sick are weak.As a doctor, the more silent, hurried, and solemn you are, the more you will be taken seriously.I always warn myself not to have any unnecessary interactions with my objects. If I know any of them, or even feel pity for them, I must give up him, otherwise accidents may happen.
"Dad, what is this?"
One day, Butcher pointed to the little box on the coffee table and asked me.
"Have you seen what's inside?" I asked him back.
He hesitated and shook his head.
"You've seen it, Boots."
Butcher lowered his eyelids in silence.Oh, I guessed it right.I don't know when Bucher's eyes that made me feel oppressed disappeared. Now I look directly into his eyes, but I only see blue.
I patted his stiff shoulder and said, "There's nothing to see here, just some little notes. Now, open the box and give me one of those."
Butcher seemed confused, but complied.He took out a ball of paper, spread it out, and when he was about to read the content on it, I stopped him and just brought the ball of paper with a person's name written on it.
"Who is this?" Butcher asked.
"A deceased patient of mine."
He looked like he wanted to ask something but held back.I didn't want Butcher to live in suspicion and anxiety, so I took the initiative to say to him: "I have often had nightmares recently. I visit their graves, and I hope these old friends can help me drive away the ghosts that bother me."
Butcher didn't seem to believe all of this, but he was obviously more relaxed. In many cases, we only need to hear a reason, whether it is an excuse or not.I am still willing to do such a simple effort to maintain a relationship. After all, until now, I still have expectations for Butcher's future.
The truth is, that name belonged to one of my patients.He's still alive, but he's about to die.The reason why Butcher is not allowed to say it is because I have to forget the name as soon as possible after the matter is over, otherwise it will cause trouble in my life.
From this moment on, I will no longer call him by his first name, just call him number one.No. [-] is a widower who suffers from tuberculosis for many years. He has two daughters who are married to other places.Number One was a grim little old man who didn't like me as much as the other patients, and seemed to just have to depend on me, and was vaguely annoyed and ashamed about it.Wouldn't it be too challenging to pick someone like this for the first time?If he resists...
If he resists, I'll smash his head off.
After making up my mind, I knocked on the door of No. [-] room with the medicine box as scheduled, then took out the key from under the carpet, and opened the door.
Number one was sitting in a wheelchair, leaning against the window to bask in the sun. When he heard me coming in, he only tilted his head slightly, and then coughed violently.I waited for a while until his breathing had calmed down before I stepped forward and helped him wipe the saliva from the corners of his mouth with the handkerchief pinned to his collar.In doing so, fingers accidentally touched his skin, which was very soft, sagging, rough, and gave off an old smell.I couldn't help trembling, he looked up at me, panting heavily, and gave me a look, maybe he thought I disliked him; it wasn't like that.I excused myself to wash my handkerchief, and left for a while, the sound of rushing water covered up my accelerated heartbeat.Evidently, my heart was not completely peaceful.And the touch of that moment almost baffles me, when I touch a fragile life, the pity that almost awes and the tyranny of everything rises at the same time.If I had to describe that feeling, it was like pinching a moth that was still struggling from the window with a handkerchief. I could feel the thickness and shape of life between my fingertips, and I didn’t dare to pinch it hard. This kind of hesitation is not Out of fear.
But just like I would crush a bug to death in the end, the moment of panic passed quickly.
I hung his handkerchief on the window sill, paying attention to his health as a matter of routine.He's had a worse cough lately.
"Another shot of codeine," I said, looking up at him for his opinion.I could tell he didn't remember what codeine was, he just didn't want to admit it.He deliberately looked at me suspiciously, but it was just a bluff, trying to deter me, so that I would not dare to deceive him and bully him.This is really pitiful. When I think that one day I will be so dazed and terrified, desperately erecting weak thorns to defend myself, I feel that I will immediately lose hope of continuing to live.
I never force them to do anything, especially for a person like No. [-], only his own choice will not make him feel rebellious.I waited patiently, my eyes were empty, and my mind was wandering.
After a stalemate that hardly counted as a see-saw, he said, "Okay."
Codeine is an opioid addictive drug that can be used to relieve pain or cough, although there are more stable and safer alternatives, it is still correct to use in this situation.However, what I value most about it is that it can easily kill if enough injections are given.
I smeared his cubital fossa with a cotton swab soaked in alcohol, took out the injection, drew a full syringe of medicine, and pushed out the excess air.While doing this, he turned his head away from looking.
"We're ready to go," I said, inserting the needle into the skin. "Remember? I told you last time that drowsiness and a slow heartbeat are likely to follow, and that's normal."
He frowned and snorted out of his nasal cavity to show that he knew.
The liquid medicine was slowly and steadily injected into the subcutaneous area. I pulled out the needle and used a cotton swab to hold down the injection port until the blood beads no longer ooze out.No. [-]'s breathing changed from slow and difficult to rapid and heavy, and his pupils shrank, which was slightly different from last time.It seems that the difference in dosage will also affect the manifestation of adverse reactions.He was obviously uneasy about his physical condition. I held his hand and rubbed the skin of the back of his hand repeatedly with the pad of my thumb, believing that it would bring relief and relief.
"Don't be afraid of me." I said gently.
I always remember his instant stiffness after hearing this and the frightened eyes he turned his head to show, so I stopped saying this sentence to others later.
My efforts have basically paid off as expected.Over time, they gradually began to trust me, and that attitude could not be overstated.People who are sick are weak.As a doctor, the more silent, hurried, and solemn you are, the more you will be taken seriously.I always warn myself not to have any unnecessary interactions with my objects. If I know any of them, or even feel pity for them, I must give up him, otherwise accidents may happen.
"Dad, what is this?"
One day, Butcher pointed to the little box on the coffee table and asked me.
"Have you seen what's inside?" I asked him back.
He hesitated and shook his head.
"You've seen it, Boots."
Butcher lowered his eyelids in silence.Oh, I guessed it right.I don't know when Bucher's eyes that made me feel oppressed disappeared. Now I look directly into his eyes, but I only see blue.
I patted his stiff shoulder and said, "There's nothing to see here, just some little notes. Now, open the box and give me one of those."
Butcher seemed confused, but complied.He took out a ball of paper, spread it out, and when he was about to read the content on it, I stopped him and just brought the ball of paper with a person's name written on it.
"Who is this?" Butcher asked.
"A deceased patient of mine."
He looked like he wanted to ask something but held back.I didn't want Butcher to live in suspicion and anxiety, so I took the initiative to say to him: "I have often had nightmares recently. I visit their graves, and I hope these old friends can help me drive away the ghosts that bother me."
Butcher didn't seem to believe all of this, but he was obviously more relaxed. In many cases, we only need to hear a reason, whether it is an excuse or not.I am still willing to do such a simple effort to maintain a relationship. After all, until now, I still have expectations for Butcher's future.
The truth is, that name belonged to one of my patients.He's still alive, but he's about to die.The reason why Butcher is not allowed to say it is because I have to forget the name as soon as possible after the matter is over, otherwise it will cause trouble in my life.
From this moment on, I will no longer call him by his first name, just call him number one.No. [-] is a widower who suffers from tuberculosis for many years. He has two daughters who are married to other places.Number One was a grim little old man who didn't like me as much as the other patients, and seemed to just have to depend on me, and was vaguely annoyed and ashamed about it.Wouldn't it be too challenging to pick someone like this for the first time?If he resists...
If he resists, I'll smash his head off.
After making up my mind, I knocked on the door of No. [-] room with the medicine box as scheduled, then took out the key from under the carpet, and opened the door.
Number one was sitting in a wheelchair, leaning against the window to bask in the sun. When he heard me coming in, he only tilted his head slightly, and then coughed violently.I waited for a while until his breathing had calmed down before I stepped forward and helped him wipe the saliva from the corners of his mouth with the handkerchief pinned to his collar.In doing so, fingers accidentally touched his skin, which was very soft, sagging, rough, and gave off an old smell.I couldn't help trembling, he looked up at me, panting heavily, and gave me a look, maybe he thought I disliked him; it wasn't like that.I excused myself to wash my handkerchief, and left for a while, the sound of rushing water covered up my accelerated heartbeat.Evidently, my heart was not completely peaceful.And the touch of that moment almost baffles me, when I touch a fragile life, the pity that almost awes and the tyranny of everything rises at the same time.If I had to describe that feeling, it was like pinching a moth that was still struggling from the window with a handkerchief. I could feel the thickness and shape of life between my fingertips, and I didn’t dare to pinch it hard. This kind of hesitation is not Out of fear.
But just like I would crush a bug to death in the end, the moment of panic passed quickly.
I hung his handkerchief on the window sill, paying attention to his health as a matter of routine.He's had a worse cough lately.
"Another shot of codeine," I said, looking up at him for his opinion.I could tell he didn't remember what codeine was, he just didn't want to admit it.He deliberately looked at me suspiciously, but it was just a bluff, trying to deter me, so that I would not dare to deceive him and bully him.This is really pitiful. When I think that one day I will be so dazed and terrified, desperately erecting weak thorns to defend myself, I feel that I will immediately lose hope of continuing to live.
I never force them to do anything, especially for a person like No. [-], only his own choice will not make him feel rebellious.I waited patiently, my eyes were empty, and my mind was wandering.
After a stalemate that hardly counted as a see-saw, he said, "Okay."
Codeine is an opioid addictive drug that can be used to relieve pain or cough, although there are more stable and safer alternatives, it is still correct to use in this situation.However, what I value most about it is that it can easily kill if enough injections are given.
I smeared his cubital fossa with a cotton swab soaked in alcohol, took out the injection, drew a full syringe of medicine, and pushed out the excess air.While doing this, he turned his head away from looking.
"We're ready to go," I said, inserting the needle into the skin. "Remember? I told you last time that drowsiness and a slow heartbeat are likely to follow, and that's normal."
He frowned and snorted out of his nasal cavity to show that he knew.
The liquid medicine was slowly and steadily injected into the subcutaneous area. I pulled out the needle and used a cotton swab to hold down the injection port until the blood beads no longer ooze out.No. [-]'s breathing changed from slow and difficult to rapid and heavy, and his pupils shrank, which was slightly different from last time.It seems that the difference in dosage will also affect the manifestation of adverse reactions.He was obviously uneasy about his physical condition. I held his hand and rubbed the skin of the back of his hand repeatedly with the pad of my thumb, believing that it would bring relief and relief.
"Don't be afraid of me." I said gently.
I always remember his instant stiffness after hearing this and the frightened eyes he turned his head to show, so I stopped saying this sentence to others later.
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