As the sun begins to fade from existence, five protectors are chosen. Their unique blood type is thought to help the Earth regain its strength. Aryn, a prominent surgeon, is unaware of the fateful gift that flows in her. She carries the same blood t...
•ARYN• "Memories are more than events of the past. They're the perfume of the future."
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Blood dripped from the scalpel onto the freshly polished white floor. Its echo accompanied the steady beep of the monitor. Seconds froze as I glanced around the room watching focused eyes twinkle behind goggles. My hands froze. I raised them to check if energy pulsed through them. The pungent scent of blood dispersed through the air yielding green light. Monitors spoke of the fate of people outside the door. The soft-white gloves abandoned tears of blood. The dark stain on them reminded me of the ominous feeling of the past. It wasn't the first, nor the last time they would change to red.
The operation room was dark, except for the focused surgical lights. The staff stood silent, listening in terror to the beep of the monitor. This wasn't a moment of comforting, but rather a determining moment. I announced the time of death, and the only consolation I gave was the tone full of empathy.
What is Guilt? Some define it as an act of committing a crime, and the conscience constantly opposing your act while it can. However, when it can't, the conscience leaves a bitter feeling that can never be destroyed.
However, in my case no crime was committed. But that bitter feeling was still there. This was the guilt of promise speaking- the promise I told the dead patients's relatives. That is, everything will be fine.
Gulping down the guilt, I embraced the last bit of faith and proceeded. My courage weakened as the door magnified slowly like a squeezed sponge. When my lips pronounced the truth, the family went into an eternal loop of sadness, not ready to accept any of the words.
"I couldn't save him. I apologize."
There were many relatives standing and each expressed his disbelief in ways they thought would absorb some of the sorrow. The father cried, the mother collapsed and the grandparents sat down on the nearest set of seats drenched in tears. Distant relatives dropped a tear or two and began their prayers. Those with the strongest faith cried but felt selfish, because they knew that he'd be in a far better place.
My feet walked past the family, with nothing left to do. I became a general surgeon despite knowing that death at times is inevitable and so is the guilt of promise. I've been warned about the restless hours of work and that this career accepts no lies, and at some point- some people told me stories about Doctors who committed suicide. But I always had one response.
"You won't be saying that when you need me."
However, no one told me or -could describe- the feeling of seeing the patients improve and smile after years of suffering. It was as if seeing wilted flowers growing again after a storm. This reward, and this smile was the compensation I waited for.
