From the corner of my eye, I saw Phoebe stiffen.

“Wait,” her voice rang out, startling the poor nurse, who almost dropped the syringe.

“What is that?”

“C…Cefoxitin,” she stammered.

“Are you quite sure you know the difference between Cefoxitin and Ceftriaxone? They teach you to check medications before administering, don’t they?” her lips curled in disdain.

The nurse nodded silently.

“And we don’t actually like stray nurses to administer stray medications. Could you please discard that stuff, bring a sealed vial of Cefoxitin and administer it?” her voice was ice.

“I can’t waste it,” the nurse sounded angry.

“We’ll pay for both vials,” Phoebe’s voice was sweet and deadly.

“Who are you to stop me from doing my duty?” the nurse snapped.

“The patient's family, who has the right to information and the right to refuse a medication. I hope your hospital allows those stuff.”

“Yes, but I need to do my job, get out of the way,” she pushed past Phoebe, reaching out to disconnect my IV.

But before she could even touch me, Phoebe grabbed her collar and dragged her away from me. Then she shoved her to the wall. Phoebe wasn’t strong enough so the nurse staggered back a few feet, opening her mouth as if to scream.

The syringe hit the wall, the medicine spilling on the floor.

“One scream, and I would bring the director here and get you dismissed from your job.”

The Phoebe standing in front of me was no longer the genial girl I had known. She was the incarnation of fury as she stood there, fiercely blocking the way of the nurse, I wondered why I had ever doubted her strength.

Phoebe’s mother must have heard the commotion and hurried into the room. She froze at the door on seeing the scene.

“Phoebe, are you mad?” she screamed.
“Mom, let me handle this before she gets away,” her voice was cool and composed.
My mother was the next to hurry through the door and she stood there, her jaws dropping. Phoebe ignored her, turning to the nurse.

“Well then, let me tell you a story…”

“Phoebe” her mother interrupted. “Enough is enough.”

“Mrs. Wellesley. Stay away from this. Phoebe never does anything without a reason, or so I have heard,” my mother interrupted. The look on the face of Mrs Wellesley was priceless.

Phoebe gave a grateful look and continued...

“So, I actually want to be a nurse when I grow up and say one of your relatives, maybe your mother is under my care. One day, a stranger grabs me and thrusts some money into my hands, wanting to know about a patient. Though sworn to secrecy, I am lured by money. Then he offers me more money to administer a medication that your mother is allergic to, instead of the one prescribed by the doctor,” she says, carefully scrutinizing the nurse whose lips were trembling. “My conscience pricks. I refuse. They threaten to kill my family. I finally agree to give a medication to your mother and since she’s allergic, she dies of anaphylaxis. I’d gladly pass it off as another medication error! Your mother is no one to me.”

There was a collective gasp from mothers and I still struggled to get a grip on the situation. The nurse seemed to be shaking and she had blanched considerably.

“But suppose you saw me talking to the stranger, plotting the death of your mother,” she continued with a pause. “What would you do? No one would believe your claims. Would you like to see your mother die? Obviously, this could happen to anyone anytime. Don’t you think so?” her voice was cool, but I could see her eyes. They were strained and lifeless.

And that was it, the nurse dropped to the floor, breaking down completely.
“Yes,” she wailed, clawing at her face, “Yes, I had been lured by money and when I refused, he had threatened to kill my family. I had done what I had to do to save them.”

“And what was it that they told you to do?”

“Give him Ceftriaxone instead of Cefoxitin which the doctors had ordered. He is allergic to Ceftriaxone,” she pointed an unsteady finger at me, “But believe me, I never wanted to do it. I was forced and so I came here with the syringe loaded so that no one could…”

There was a sob and my mother threw herself at me, wrapping me in a hug.
Phoebe’s face contorted with anger and her mom stood motionless at the doorway.

“Describe the man,” Phoebe demanded.
And as the descriptions unfolded, I immediately knew who he was.

“Paul!” I exclaimed. “But wasn’t he in jail?”
Phoebe gave me a weary nod and took out her phone from her pocket.

“Thank you for your confessions, Miss.” she shut the audio recorder. “This goes to the medical superintendent. You should actually have sought help from higher authorities before daring to commit a murder. There is law and there are the police. There are people who would listen to you if you plead."

“But…”

“I have nothing more to say except that I would personally scrutinize each medication administered and we need to shift Daniel to another hospital. He isn’t really safe in here,” venom poured with each word from Phoebe’s mouth.

I shuddered as I realized how close I had been to death. Had Phoebe not been here, I would have been gone by now.

I closed my eyes, trying to fight back the emotions welling inside me. I had never been able to save her from danger, but she always had my back.