I call Diane, the senior nurse who trained me. She picks up on the first ring even though it's 3 a.m. "Which room?" she asks. When I say 14, there's a long silence. "Don't let the cat in," she says. "Whatever you do tonight, keep that door shut."
I keep the door shut like she said. But around 4 a.m. I hear Mr. Avery calling for help, weak and scared. The cat is still outside. If I open the door to help him, I break Diane's only rule. If I don't, I'm leaving a dying man alone.
I can't leave him to suffer. I open the door. Marrow shoots past my legs and leaps onto the bed. Mr. Avery goes calm and still, his pain melting away, and he passes in his sleep within the minute. The cat looks up at me, satisfied. I helped the man, and I helped the thing too. I still can't decide if I did right.