The Angel of Death

They say love makes people do crazy things.

But no one ever said it could make you kill.

There once lived a woman not a queen, not a celebrity, not even someone you'd recognize in a crowd. She wore a nurse’s uniform, walked hospital halls like every other ordinary nurse. Her name was Kristen Gilbert.

But people remember her by another name: “The Angel of Death.”

Now wait. Before you run away thinking this is just another serial killer story let me tell you, this one’s different.

Because she didn't kill for power. She didn't kill for money. She killed for love.

Yeah. You read that right.

Kristen was a nurse in a veterans' hospital. She was quiet, polite, a little intense, but no one ever thought she was dangerous. Just… serious about her work. Some patients even liked her. She knew what to say. How to smile. She was that type of woman who always looked like she had a secret but you’d never ask.

But behind those soft eyes and that calm voice… was someone deeply obsessed. Not with fame or attention, but with one man.

That man worked down in the hospital morgue. He handled the bodies — zipped up the dead, tagged their toes, wheeled them away.

His name was James.

And Kristen she was madly in love with him. The kind of love that doesn’t make sense. The kind that eats you alive when the other person doesn’t even know you feel that way.

She wanted to see him. Every day. Every night. Just a glimpse of him was enough. His voice. His smell. Even the way he walked it was enough to drive her heart wild.

But they didn’t work in the same ward.

She was up in ICU… And he was way below, with the cold and the corpses.

So how do you see someone who only shows up when someone dies?

You see where this is going?

Yeah.

Kristen started pressing the needle.

At first, it was small. Just a little extra dose of adrenaline here, a bit of potassium there. Her patients would go into cardiac arrest totally unexpected. Panic would rise. Nurses would shout. Alarms would scream.

And the moment a patient flatlined… she would call the code.

And guess who came running?

James.

Tall, serious, wearing his morgue uniform. He would push his stretcher down the hallway, not knowing that somewhere behind the curtain, Kristen was watching with her heart racing, cheeks burning.

This was her moment.

For just a few minutes, he was there.

He’d look at her. Sometimes say her name. Maybe nod. Maybe nothing. But for Kristen, it was enough. Her soul would light up. The cold silence in her chest would warm just a bit.

Even if a life had just ended, for her something felt alive.

That’s how far she had fallen.

She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not really. That’s what she told herself.

This isn’t murder, she whispered once, wiping a tear behind a curtain. “This is love.”

She believed it. With all her heart.

Love isn’t always hearts and flowers. Sometimes it’s blood and needles.

And night after night, bodies kept dropping. Old vets who were recovering suddenly gone. People who were talking yesterday dead by morning.

Staff started to notice. Doctors whispered. Why were deaths always happening on her shift?

But Kristen kept going. Because she was hooked. Not on killing. Not even on control. She was addicted to James.

The morgue man. Her secret Romeo in a world full of dying Juliets.

Sometimes, when you’re in love, the world blurs. Right and wrong don’t matter. All that matters is them.

You want them to look at you. To stay. To see you.

Even if they don’t love you back.

Even if they don’t know you’re the reason someone died.

If I could just see him one more time...

One night, someone caught her staring.

A junior nurse saw her standing by a dead patient’s bed still, silent, almost… smiling.

That’s when the suspicions exploded.

An investigation started. Charts were reviewed. Vials tested. Her track record wasn’t just bad it was terrifying.

Four confirmed deaths.

Twenty others... suspicious.

Kristen was arrested. She said it was all lies.

James? He was stunned. He had no idea.

He didn’t even know she felt anything for him.

So what do you call that?

Madness? Obsession? Or love in its darkest, most twisted form?

Some people send flowers to the ones they love. She sent bodies.

Kristen now sits in prison. Life sentence. No chance of parole. They say she doesn’t talk much. But once, during an interview, someone asked her:

"Why’d you do it?"

She looked at them. Her eyes glassy. Her lips trembled.

And all she said was:

"You wouldn’t understand. He had the most beautiful eyes."

Sometimes, love doesn’t save. It destroys.

And sometimes… even angels wear scrubs and carry death in their pockets.

Because the heart is a strange place. And once it breaks — it’ll do anything to feel again.

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