you're mine

She watches the bed where the old woman lies. Gaunt. Haglike. Trapped just this side of death. The nurse tries to feel compassion, and instead feels disgust.
Might as well be dead already.
Then the cracked, leathery mouth moves, barely. Just a muscle spasm, a twitch. Surely?
But there it is again, faint movement, a formless, breathless word.
Trembling, she places her ear to the cold lips.
“…you’re… mine…”
A gnarled hand closes over her wrist.
The nurse wakes. A familiar face stands over her.
Her face.
She cannot move.
The body that used to be hers smiles. Walks away.