Whatever It Takes {MxM} *COMPLETE*

{3} - Beautiful

It had been almost a week now since the night nurse had rushed into Andre's room and albeit, reluctantly, saved his life by shoving a mask to his face and giving him the medication he needed to stay alive.

After Wanda had so callously dismissed his pleas for help, she had heard his wail of despair and something in her had snapped, broken open, allowing guilt to override any other feelings she had towards the situation and him.

If it was to come to light that she had disregarded orders to ignore the patient's every call, she would be canned for sure. She needed this job to see her son through his last year of college. Without the money it provided, he would have to drop out. She couldn't let that happen.

Which was why she had made sure no one saw her enter Andre's room with the tank of oxygen to help with his breathing, the full bottle of Percusset to help relieve the pain which wracked him and the small bag of diapers and blankets he would need for his hygiene.

She already knew the normal routine when it came to this patient. He was only attended to when Michael, the head doctor on the floor sent word that Brookoff would be on site for his weekly rounds. Thus, why she had made sure to bring a whole bottle of painkillers. He wouldn't have to call out at night any more.

She just hoped he didn't overdose in his quest to feel relief.

Lifting his head, she had shoved two pills into his mouth and forced them down with water while holding his nostrils so he'd have to swallow them. Then, she had put the mask to his face and turned the damned tank on full blast, praying he would start breathing steadily instead of just barely.

The process was grueling and tiresome for just one person but she was too afraid to ask for help, the threat of losing her job looming over her head. Once done, she had waited for his breathing to normalize and he was able to move so she could help him into the chair by his bed.

Andre just sat in the chair, watching her, wondering why now after all of her mistreatment of him, she would suddenly want to come to his aide. Was it because she knew he would die otherwise and on her watch no less or because someone had sent her?

He doubted the latter since no one here really cared whether he lived or died. Wasn't that just oh so very nice and Christian-like of them? They venerated a god who so loved the world, yet they hold only hatred in their hearts.

Jesus must be crying his ass off right now. He thought to himself.

Ripping the filthy sheets from the bed, Wanda had replaced them with freshly washed ones then helped him out of his gown and feces infested diaper, cleaned him with wet wipes and replaced those with clean ones making him feel so much better now that his defecation was wiped off his chafed flesh.

"Do you know how much trouble ima get into for helping you, you spawn of satan?" she asked him as she helped push his arm through a sleeve. "I swear if you tell anyone I was here, Imma come in here and end you myself. Count on it ya hear?"

Andre simply looked at her through the teary eyes of a grateful man. He knew she was no uncaring soul. She felt she had to degrade and abuse him because everyone else did so but he knew that deep down, she cared about what happened to him. She cared for human life no matter how wrong she felt his preferences were.

"God bless you, Wanda." He'd wheezed out, his voice dry and hoarse. "God bless and keep you safe. Thank you so much."

And with that he had broken down and cried his eyes out, his body trembling and shaking with each wracking sob, grateful for another day to live. He cried because although he was resigned to death, he realized he also wanted to live.