Prologue:

This was the time in her life that she fell upon books as a way to escape; to forget the horrible images of rotting flesh, the sickening smell of dying men, and the screams for mercy. Yes, books had become half of her world—the better half. She sat in her quarters, being released from the hospital for the night, reading of far away places about heroism and spouts of courage. None of which she had at the moment.

The book lay open on her lap; the words becoming blurry and undecipherable because sleep was causing her eyes to feel heavy. She unconsciously brushed her hand over its smooth skin.

Earlier that day, the doctor had left her two bottles of wine, and each night she would ceremoniously pour herself a small proportion and carry it back to the night table, where she spent most of her time reading, and sip away. The wine was a treat, and though she knew it was wrong, she looked forward to it. Just like a book, it was a good way to escape.

Tomorrow would be another gruesome day at the war hospital. She would go about her day cleaning, sewing, and bandaging wounds; some fatal, some not. Nurses shuffling, doctors commanding, patients begging. Those are what her days consisted of. Then, at the end of the day, she would scrub her hands clean of crimson blood and even though they appeared to be unsoiled, she could always see the stains forever etched into her skin.

She had learned to travel around the hospital with an indifferent attitude. A mask always adorning her features.

She had also learned the 'Golden Rule' of the hospital:

Never, ever, get attached to a patient.

Little did she know that she would be soon violating that rule and everything it stands for.

Well, I figured that this could turn out to be a nice Shiznat story. Tell me if you think I should continue or not...whatever.

-Blue IV