Almost over ...

The greenish lump moved.
It blurted out an unearthly groan.

The woman rose and verged on the surgical table.
She wiped the smelly liquid off the wobbly mass
and returned to her desk.

Her eyes rested on the stained piece of paper she had found.
'Kevin, day 15:
- green progressing, more liquid, ...
- Exitus'

In the background an olive chunk floated in a glass tube.

She beheld the thing, then her patient.
"Doctor Monster!", she hissed, rising again.

"Almost over, dear."
The lump roared, wobbled frantically.

She filled a syringe, injected her husband,

the killer of her first-born son.