Master stays in bed motionless except for the almost unnoticeable rise and fall of His breaths that fill His chest. A small 20’’ by 20’’ room, walls painted pale white ( as instructed), a twin sized hospital like bed, a blank tv screen, a monstrous refrigerator, a full kitchen (for myself to use for all His needs), a half eaten chocolate gelatin pudding, and the continent beeping of the heart monitor. He is the only one I know, only one I met, yet He is dying. Why am I here?

I try to understand life as much as I can but do not know what “life” means. I do not know how to live, I wasn’t instructed how to do that. My purpose has been to serve and protect until the monitor no longer beeps. What do I do when it stops? Does my time end? Is my clock ticking? Am I intertwined into His dying moments? I do not know what it means to feel but a screw feels loose. The possible outcomes are, what I assume, haunting and terrifying for others that are in my position.

It has been 2 hours 37 minutes and 48 seconds since He has spoken to me last. I was told, “Zetra retrieve the morphine and start the IV again,” to which I immediately acted to His wishes. He has been in bad shape for the past year (that’s as long as I can remember, when I was brought here) and he hasn’t gotten any better or any worse. The condition he has is known as cirrhosis of the liver. I understand that there is little I can do, but I cannot betray my Master, I was made to serve for these times. Without Him I would be nothing more than a toaster and some screws. Some time goes by and His body lays motionless, cold, pale, his breaths become more shallow and irregular. I cannot help with anything else as I wasn’t made to fix, I was made to help ease His pain. He lets out a strange gasp for air and looks at me and then stops. The monitor broadcasts a noise I have never heard before ——silence– complete silence.

I stay in the room with Master for many hours, time goes by quickly as I compute all scenarios possible. I till over many sleepless nights of what has gone wrong. Was my care inadequate? Did I do something wrong? What do I do now?

It’s been about a week since the death of Master and nothing has changed. I remain in the seat I was in when He died and have not moved an inch. I don’t know how to do anything without His commands. I stare at His body, beautiful, serene, at peace in the beginning but as the days grew longer so did His decomposition. Within the first few days His skin is starting to flake, it has a certain sheene to it that was not there before, the body is stiff and hasn’t moved at all (even when I touch His sacred body). On days three to seven He seems to have gotten larger (almost double in size), there are occasional noises of gas rippling through Him, and many flies, maggots and other sorts of insects are beginning to wander towards Him. I try to keep the pest away to give Him the best treatment I can, it’s what I was made to do. I don’t know how to do anything else.

It has been another seven days, day fourteen since Master has left me alone, since I have waited for my next purpose. I move only to try and make his passing more pleasant and enjoyable for His soul. He was a devout man and believed in a higher power of God saving Him in another life. These days have gone slowly, I have started to lose track of time; only counting the days because of the sunrise from the window that allows a glimpse of the reds, oranges, and yellows that illuminate the skyline. I have lost all hope for myself and have no reason to keep on living but I believe that Master has another plan for me; I just need to find it. I made a commitment to be with Him until He was completely gone and cannot leave until he has left this God forsaken room for good. I need to see that He has left me in order to leave Him. Afterall I considered Him my Father; I see him in the same light that Jesus saw God.

On day fourteen His body began to deflate, to lose the increased size. I was unaware that this would happen. His body began to regain normal size by day twenty, but His teeth ( all shiny white and perfectly placed within his mouth) along with his nails on both hands and feet ( which I kept trimmed) began to fall out slowly, one by one, dominoes in a line taking each other out. Around this same time liquids began to flow out of Him from every hole imaginable, His mouth, nostrils, ears and eye sockets were especially filled with strange colored liquid reminiscent of reddish green brown wet clay. The liquid gently marched out of His body and onto the now yellow brown bed, which is no longer the pearl white it originally was. The image of Master has started to escape me, His once cheerful gleam now just a pile of flesh, bones and liquid that is unidentifiable, unsalvageable. I know that I can no longer provide any sort of support for His body, but I cannot leave just yet.