It's beyond me why I ever chose to be a doctor. It wasn't fun listening to screams of patients as we tried to save their lives. It wasn't fun to fight with stubborn people to try to make them take their food. And it certainly wasn't fun spending countless hours in the emergency room, unable to stop no matter how much my body begged me. In short, it sounded like absolute agony.
But honestly? The feeling that you get when you tell their families and friends that they will be okay was indescribable. It gave me a sense of pride knowing that I had been able to save another life, a life that otherwise would have been lost. The pay was great too; I never had to worry about my bank account taking a hit, but I suppose I did it in order to save lives.
When I was five, I watched helplessly as my mother passed away right before my eyes. I couldn't do anything at all, except scream for my mother to hold on, to wait until the ambulance arrived. The ambulance was too late. I couldn't help but think, what if I had the medical knowledge to save her? So from that day on, I vowed to myself, I would become a doctor and save lives.
The eight years in medical school was grueling and drowned me with student loans. It was all worth it in the end.
I told my neighbors and pretty much anyone in the neighborhood to come to me if an emergency happened and there wasn't enough time to get them to the hospital. Just for that, I prepared a room in my house. I never had a chance to use it. Until tonight.
"See you tomorrow!" I shouted at Mer, the receptionist. She gave me a short save in return before turning back to answer the ringing phone. I walked through the sliding doors and out into the cool night breeze.
It was the perfect night. Stars littered the sky. The half moon shine brightly as I took my stroll near the river. I didn't live too far from the hospital so I always walked home to enjoy the scenery and the night breeze. I stopped at one point to stare at my reflection in the water. A girl with a round oval face stared back at me, her black locks framing her face. Her chocolate brown eyes portrayed innocence, though I could not fathom why since I had seen so many deaths.
I was jerked out of my thoughts when I heard a grunt. I turned my head, my eyes scanning the vicinity for the source of the sound. Hesitantly, I stood up, brushing the grass off of my jeans. I slowly crept forward, scared that something was going to jump out at me. I took another step forward, my foot coming in contact with something warm. I shrieked, jumping backwards. All I got was another grunt in return.
I analyzed the figure lying on the ground. I saw the odd angle his arm was at and knew it was broken. Almost instantly, my medical instincts took over. I moved closer to the man, crouching down so I could analyze his injuries.
So far, I spotted a broken left arm, a bullet wound, and scores of injuries all over his stomach and back. Taking off my backpack, I unzipped it and rummaged through it for some of the medical supplies I stored in there. I grabbed a wad of gauzes, pressing it down onto his bullet wound to staunch the flow of blood.
"Let me take you to the hospital," I said, reaching for his arm, the one that wasn't broken. To my surprise, he swatted my hands away. He helped himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the tree for support. His good hand pressed against his wound.
"No hospital," he croaked, "They will find me there." I didn't question who "they" were, the fact that he was going to die if he didn't get any treatment was far more pressing than satisfying my curiosity. I reached out once more, this time he did not swat my hands away. Whether it was because he didn't have the energy to, or because he was finally admitting that he needed help, I didn't know. Regardless of why, I slipped my arm under his right armpit and slowly eased him up. His right arm was draped over my shoulder and I grunted at the added weight.
He was tall. Even if he was kind of slumped over, he still had at least a head over me. One could imagine how tall he is if he was standing up straight. I made sure my hand was pressed to his wound, even though he made a small noise of protest. I ignored him. I wasn't going to let him bleed to death just because it hurt when I added pressure to his wound. He could deal with a little pain.
Slowly, we hobbled our way over to my house, which thankfully wasn't too far from here. I didn't have the energy to half carry him any further. With his height, he weighed a lot. Plus, from the brief outline I could make out in the dark, he was all muscle. Muscle, unfortunately, weighed more than fat.
"God you're heavy," I muttered as I fished out my keys. I left him propped on the wall to my house as I unlocked my door and pushed it open.
"You're just weak," he murmured. I reached for him again and hauled him inside. I shut the door and ushered him to the room I prepared for cases like this. At least it was of use.
I pushed him down onto the bed, quickly taking off his blood soaked shirt. I was careful to not hurt his broken arm too much. I injected morphine into his system and while I waited for his body to become numb, I grabbed my medical supplies. I slipped on my gloves and my white coat. I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail and I quickly went to work.
For the next couple hours, I worked on taking the bullet out of his wound and stitching it up. It was messy work and something I had only done twice before, but I had to risky since he was too stubborn to go to the hospital. Once I was finished, I wrapped his wound up with a clean bandage. Next, I began to set his broken arm straight, wincing as I heard the sound of bones grinding against each other. I fastened a splint to hold his arm in place. He was going to have to go to the hospital for a cast; there was no way around it. I didn't have the supplies for that at home. I gently set his arm down as I worked on the various cuts that he sported across his body. I tried not to get distracted by his toned skin or lean muscles, but I was a single woman and I couldn't help to let my eyes wander since he wasn't in life threatening condition anymore.
It was four in the morning when I finished. I pulled the blanket to cover up his chest and left the room. I pulled off my latex gloves, discarding them in the trash as I passed. I tossed my coat into the washer. I headed to my bedroom to grab some clothes before I went to take a shower, washing the day's grime off of me.
As I let the hot water pour down on me, the medic in me couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten those wounds. The bullet wound was obvious, but where did the broken arm come from? His numerous scratches and minor wounds probably came from running through the woods and falling down because of imbalance. There was no way he was losing so much blood and right in his mind. Tomorrow, I vowed, I was going to force him to the hospital to get a cast and a blood transfusion. He had enough blood to live right now, but he wouldn't be able to do much without more blood. Unless he counted falling down as a result of dizziness doing something.
After my shower, I returned to the room to check up on him. He was still peacefully sleeping. I quietly shut my door and crawled into my own bed. I needed sleep for tomorrow; I had an early shift, much to my dismay. Letting my tiredness catch up to me, without putting up much of a fight, I let darkness wash over me.
Instead of waking up to the annoying beeping of my alarm clock like I always did, I woke up to the sound of heavy footsteps outside of my room. I immediately rolled out of my bed and burst into the living room where I saw the guy from last night slowly making his way to the front door. I was surprised he could walk, let alone stand up.
"Where the hell are you going?" I asked, my voice ringing clearly throughout the empty house.
At the sound of my voice, his movements halted. Without turning around, he answered, "Away from here. I live a dangerous life and I will not drag you down with me." If his wounds were anything to go by, I knew he lived a dangerous life yet knowing that I decided to save him anyways.
"You need to go to the hospital," I said, walking so I was right in front of his face. I tilted my head up so I could see his face clearly. "You need a cast. I bet you're feeling dizzy and you're only standing out of sheer adrenaline. Look, I'm going to work. I could get you patched up at the hospital personally. No questions, I promise." He stiffened at the mention of hospitals.
"Thank you for saving my life but I refuse to go to the hospital. I will take my leave now," he said firmly. He tried to step around me, but my hands shot up to his shoulders, holding him in place. If he was at full strength, he would have most definitely shove me aside but he wasn't. I had to take advantage of that.
"Look here tough guy," I started to say, "You think you're all high and mighty and invincible. If you do not get that properly treated, you're going to be lying on your deathbed very soon. I saved your goddamn life, the least you could do is be a bit more complaint."
"My friends will be worried if I do not show up at the meeting spot. One of them is a doctor, he will fix me up," he said with his eyes closed, "I am not ungrateful. It's just that if I do not get going, they will find me here. I do not wish to endanger you." There he goes again with the "they" will find him. Fine. I'll let him have his way.
"Fine do as you please. But I spent five hours patching you up. No strenuous activities, get lots of rest, eat some food, and you better not be lying about your friend," I said, rattling off orders like I had done a million times. I received no reply. I headed to the kitchen, grabbing the first food I saw, which happened to be some bread. I swiped a bottle of water as well. I went back to the living room, genuinely surprised to see that he was still there. I shoved the food into his good arm.
"Eat," I commanded. Since he chose to stay behind rather than leave when he had the chance, he was going to deal with my bossiness a little longer. "If you change your mind, I doubt you will though, stop by the hospital." With that, I turned and left the room, ready to prepare for my day.
I cleaned the room where he had been. I pulled the sheets, blanket, and pillowcase tossing them into the washer before I started the load. I took fresh white sheets out of a closet and placed them onto the bed, tucking the corners under the mattress. I placed another blanket on top of the bed and put another pillowcase on the pillow. Satisfied with the current condition of the room, I headed off to mine own where I got dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt. I ran a brush through my hair, hastily pulling it up into a ponytail before exiting my room.
He was still there, gobbling the last of the bread I gave him. He drank the last of the water before tossing the bottle into a nearby trash can. Sensing someone behind him, he abruptly turned around, his body immediately stiffening and entering into a battle stance. When he saw that it was just me, his posture relaxed a bit, but not entirely.
"Thank you," he said, before he strode out of the front door, as confidently as a man could with a broken arm and a gaping bullet wound in his abdomen.
A/N: Hey guys, hope you're enjoying this story thus far. If you're a reader from CC, this is what you know as Option 2, please see my profile for more info on that. It's been a couple of months and I still haven't finished this story...but I'm going to go ahead and post this anyways. Because, at least for CC, reviews became a great motivation and I finished that story in 3 months...
Anyways, I don't actually expect much feedback for this particular story. I don't think it's as good as CC is and most of the story is driven by dialogue. But I just got through writing the "turning point" in the story so we shall see what will happen.
I'll post every time I get through writing another chapter, that way there won't be a long hiatus in between updating if I run out of already written chapters. I know I hate that so I try not to do that.
Well, thanks for giving this story a try and I will see you next time. :) Let me know what you think about this short chapter.