Chapter One
Five Years Later
A/N Heyyyy guysss sorry I haven't been on here to update lately but let's see how everyone likes the first chapter! If you do, please comment and vote :)
Gunshots could be heard at the battle front. Men were crying out and the wounded were coming to our hospital’s doorstep to be treated. That was our purpose, to heal dying soldiers. Our war hospital consisted of eight nurses, my sister, and me. It was a small hospital, but we had enough knowledge and skills to treat anyone who came to us. After our mother died in a war and our dad was captured by the Terrorists, we knew that we had to devote the rest our lives to heal those who would sacrifice their lives for our country.
For as long as I can remember, our country has been at war with Iran and their Terrorists. Some say the war will never end, that our two countries are so different that we will never see eye-to-eye. I believe that one day, there will be no more sorrow, and no more pain. Right now, however, it is a different story. The Terrorists charge with blood thirsty looks in their eyes, and the need to kill. I do know, though, that one of those men out there fighting with the Terrorists may be my father, so I always accept Terrorists into our hospital. I would never miss the chance to one day see my father again.
My sister, Talia, is the brightest young girl I have ever known. She knows the names of thousands of herbs and how to make them into remedies for my patients. She recorded each one of them in a journal that Mama gave her when she was only five years old. She loved working with Mama in her herbal garden. You could see the joy on her face, soaking in the knowledge her mother was giving her. But Talia was never the same since Mama died. She never has that same joy on her face. She has not even said a word since that day. I try to get her to talk sometimes but it seems like she does not have the will to do so.
Even though she has not spoken, Talia has done wondrous works at our hospital. She manages to get by, but I worry that she does not deal with the pain the way that she should. Everyone at the hospital tries to help by talking to her and giving her encouraging words, but her only reply is a nod or a smile. Maybe she thinks that Mama was the only one who truly understood her and that there is no point in trying to talk again. Whatever I try to say to her never seems to work, so I pray that someday her emotional scars will heal and she will talk again.
Talia and I live in a small room atop the hospital. We barely manage to get by, because all of the donations (though few) that we get, go towards helping our patients, but they deserve it to the furthest extent. I see so much bravery as I walk down the stairs every day to see the men and women who have risked their lives to better their country. It tears my heart in two to have to tell devastating news on occasion like, “I’m so sorry sir, but we could not fix your leg, and you will never be able to walk again,” or “Madam? I’m so sorry I have to tell you this, but the bullet went straight through one of the main arteries of your arm, so we have to cut it off.” In those moments, seeing the looks on their faces when they hear that news is almost unbearable. I look at them with the utmost respect when I realize what must be going through their heads in these times: “So this is my payment for protecting my country?” “Do I really deserve this after all I’ve been through?”
It makes it all worthwhile, though, when we can deliver good news. When they can say “Hallelujah!” to the Lord because they are alive and well; that is what makes my job worth it. It makes me feel as if this is really my purpose in life.
~
“Hey! I need help over here!” I shouted to whatever nurse I could find, “Give me some more gauze and put pressure right here- and don’t let up!”
I had a man that was bleeding to death right before my eyes, and it was up to me to save him.
“Hurry, clean up the blood around the wound. I need to find the bullet that went in there.” I frantically looked around at the two nurses that were now aiding me, my friend, Lakisha, and a more elderly nurse named Aasera. They cleaned it up as well as they could, and I started searching around for the bullet.
There it is! I picked it out from the flesh. Now I just needed to stitch it up.
“Shira, this man is losing blood fast!” Lakisha yelled.
“Yes, I know,” I said, slightly irritated. “Get me a needle.”
The other nurse hurriedly retrieved a needle.
“Keep cleaning the wound! I need to see it when I stitch it up,” I ordered.
“Shira,” Lakisha nervously said, “Do you think maybe I could stitch it up? You’ve been training me for so long and –,”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “You may. I believe in you.”
Aasera came back with the needle.
“You ready?” I asked calmly, although inside I felt slightly nervous.
“Yes,” Lakisha replied, “Let’s do this.”
I started cleaning up the blood around the wound. When it was clean enough to see the wound, Lakisha started stitching it up. With some words of guidance from me, our operation was a success. I breathed a deep sigh a relief.
“Great job, Lakisha. I knew you could do it,” I said, congratulating her on a job well done.
“Thanks, Shira. But I did have a pretty good teacher,” she said, grinning.
I nodded in appreciation. “Well, it’s pretty late. I think we should get some sleep. Do you wanna sleep over tonight?”
“Yeah, thanks,” she gratefully said, “I think it’s way too late for me to drive home. Plus, the darkness scares me.” She glanced around.
“Yeah, it scares me too,” I replied. “Come on up. I need to go to bed.” I yawned loudly.
“It sure sounds like you do,” she giggled.
“Yeah, yeah. You won’t be laughing tomorrow morning when we wake up at the crack of dawn,” I said, yawning again.
We walked up the stairs onto the second floor. Talia was already in our room, sleeping. Our “house”, as some may call it, was situated on the second floor of the hospital, as before stated. The kitchen and dining quarters occupied one room, our bedroom occupied the second room, and the third room was our study and hangout room. We also had a one person bathroom, which was a pain to share at times; the toilet would only flush if the faucet was running, the shower would only run when the lights were off and the toilet was not flushing, etc. We got by though, and were grateful that we did have a roof over our heads, when so many did not.
“I think we have some sleeping bags around here . . .” I drowsily said as I searched for one. “Aha. Here it is.” I handed her the sleeping bag and she placed it beside my bed. “You can borrow some pajamas too.”
We put them on and climbed into our bed and sleeping bag. We were silent for a few minutes when Lakisha broke the silence.
“Hey Shira?” She said.
“Yeah?” I replied, already half asleep.
“Do you believe in true love?” She asked.
“I don’t know . . . why?” I asked back.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s because I just see what my mom and dad have and I want it so badly,” she stated.
“Do you think your mom and dad have true love?” I questioned.
“Oh, yes,” she said dreamily. “I see it in the way they look at each other, and how my dad strokes my mom’s hair in bed each night. When my dad got sick, my mom was right by his bedside all the time, nursing him and reading him stories. I want that someday. I just wish we knew what guy was really our ‘soulmate’ or ‘true love’. I mean, he might be around me all the time, and I don’t even notice him. Maybe he’s staring me right in the face and I just don’t know it.” She paused for a moment. “But you didn’t answer my question: Do you believe in true love?”
“I guess I do. I just don’t know if it’ll ever happen to me. And . . . and I guess your parents have it but how will I ever know if my parents had it? I just wish I could know how much they truly loved each other,” I confided, a tear slipping down my nose and onto my neck.
“Oh, Shira . . . How could your parents not have true love? I mean, your mom gave up her life just to find your dad. That’s the greatest love there is,” she said comfortingly.
“Thanks. I know you’re right. And I couldn’t bear to think of it any other way,” I said, grateful I had a real friend that I could confide in.
“And it isn’t any other way.” She warmly smiled. “Now let’s get some sleep. We’ll have a lot of soldiers to heal tomorrow, like always.”