Sorry for the delay, guys! The real world has been crazy here lately... Anyways, here is the next chapter! Thanks for reading! Please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes...
It had become eerily quiet. The screams once resonating from the young man before, had now, ceased to exist. No doubt, he had passed out from the adrenaline and pain. Sam moved quickly and without hesitation. From the steady stream of dark, thick blood coming from his right leg, she knew the femoral artery had been severed. As her assistiant cut the pants from around the gaping wound, a spray of warmth hit her face. The taste of blood began to gag her as she continued. There was no time to wait for the surgeon, as he was working on another soldier that had been brought in at the same time. With her left hand, Sam applied pressure to the left side of the wound, widening it enough to allow room for her right hand to reach in and find the artery. The slickness of the blood made this impossible, rendering Sam unable to work alone. As she looked to the nurse beside her, the young woman joined in. As the nurse used both hands to open the wound, Sam grabbed a pair of hemostats and placed them between her teeth. Suddenly, the young man awoke with an ear piercing scream as Sam's hands entered the wound. The torn and shredded muscle from the mans thigh moved lightly around her wrists as she searched for the pulse from the artery. The screaming became quiet once more, after a few seconds, much to Sam's relief. With a quick glance up to the man's face, she saw how young he was. No older than twenty years old, his face was colored darkly from blood and dirt. The only light colors standing out were from the white teeth peaking out from behind partially open lips; and the whites of his eyes, now rolled to the back of his head. Finally, Sam felt what she had been searching for. The faint thump-thump from the heartbeat coursing through the artery vibrated through her finger-tips. Grabbing the two inch long peice of meat proved difficult, when covered in hot, slippery blood. As Sam managed to get a proper hold of it, with her left hand, she removed the hemostats from her mouth. With steady hands, and slow breaths, the artery was clamped off, stopping the blood flow. Relief washed over her to see the mans blood pressure slowly begin to climb from the dangerously low point it was at. As Sam looked up towards the rest of the hospital, dread twisted her insides. Blood flowed freely from the gurneys that lay in front of her. The concrete floor of the small hospital wing was now colored a deep maroon. Two gurneys infront of her, she saw the head surgeon adamantly giving CPR to another soldier. Slowly, he stopped. With dread in his eyes, he looked over to Sam and shook his head. Of the five souls that entered the hospital, only one had survived. Continuing to look at the carnage around her, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Upon turning around, she met the kind, green eyes of Matthew Davis. No words were exchanged between the two at first; Matt just pulled Sam into an embrace. His Army fatigues smelled of gunpowder, smoke and blood. His face was covered with smut and dirt like the others. Matt broke the embrace but still kept his hands on Sam's shoulders as he looked into her eyes.
"You ok?"
"Yea, I'll be fine." Sam looked over to the four gurneys now holding lifeless bodys.
Matt gave her a quick shake. "Hey, don't do that to yourself. You did all you could."
"It obviously wasn't enough..."
Before Sam could finish, she was interrupted by a faint whistling sound in the distance. It seemed as if an eternity passed in her head as she tried to decide what the sound was. Everything was quiet, almost as if time had stopped.
Matt's head had turned to face the sound. When he turned back to Sam, his bright green eyes were filled with pure fear.
"EVERYONE GET DOWN, NOW!"
With a loud and painful crash, Sam snapped awake as she landed on the floor. Tangled in her sheets and drenched from sweat, she climbed up and sat on the edge of her bed. Running her fingers through her hair, she looked over to her alarm clock. 03:24 glowed in bright red. She had been asleep for three hours. With a frustrated grunt, she stood from the bed and moved to the small bathroom, connected to her bedroom.
The cool water running over her body helped lower her body temperature and eventually the sweating ceased. It took a few minutes for the phantom taste and smell of blood to diminish.
This was almost an every night occurence. If it wasn't a dream about the attack, it would be some other horror her mind conjured up to haunt her from the past. Some terrible memory of a soul she didn't save, or the blood curdling screams from the ones she did.
After her cold shower, Sam moved downstairs. As she moved past the TV, she turned it on. Rifle fire and loud explosion sounds emitted from some old war movie that was playing on the movie channel she last watched. Quickly, she grabbed the remote and changed the channel. The local news station was playing a re-run of a college basketball game. Sam flopped on the couch and mindlessly stared at the TV.
An hour passed before she moved. Moving into the kitchen, she flipped on the light switch, which caused her a moment of temporary blindness. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she opened her cabinent and prepared her morning coffee.
The small, two story apartment was nothing special. The downstairs contained a living room, big enough for a couch and recliner, as well as a small kitchen. Once the coffee pot beeped, signaling the end of the coffee cycle, Sam fixed her coffee. Moving back upstairs, she made her way over to the sliding door that led to an outside balcony.
The balcony was the one part of the apartment Sam was thankful for. Facing East, it gave view to beautiful sunrises. Sitting down with her coffee, the sky was still black from the night. As she watched, a faint orange glow appeared at the horizon. As Sam sipped her coffee, she watched the rising sun paint the dark night sky with orange and pink hues. Sunrises always brought her a small portion of peace. As she watched this work of art create itself in front of her, Sam's mind wandered in to unfamiliar territory. Pictures of beautiful landscapes and buildings flooded her mind as she remembered Dr. Lecter's cell. 'I bet he would kill to see this right now...' She felt a twinge of pitty as she remembered he would never witness a sunrise like this, ever again.
Getting into her truck, dressed and ready for work in her black scrubs, her eyes fell upon the photo sitting on her dash. The familiar green eyes, from the dream, stared back into her own.
As Sam approached Dr. Chilton's office, she was pleased to find the door shut, with no light shining through the crack at the bottom. She was in no mood to try and hold a conversation with an egotistical, conniving boss this morning.
Down in the lower-ward, Sam found Barney, once again, looking over his clip board. As he opened the gate to allow her to enter, he greeted her with a welcoming smile.
"Good morning, Sam. You drink coffee?" He gestured over to a small coffee pot sitting on one of the counters.
With a smile, Sam moved over to the counter and proceeded to fix a cup.
"So, what's the first part of my daily tasks?"
Barney handed her a roster with all of the patients names and info.
"You can start by doing the morning rounds. Just do a walk-through and check that all the patients are in their cells and alive. Not that we expect anything to be amiss, its just standard procedure."
With a loud, shrill buzz, the security gate opened, allowing Sam to exit the station. She jumped slightly as the gate slammed shut behind her. Without Barney, the ward seemed much, much more intimidating.
Passing the cells, most of the inmates were still sleeping. The few who were awake, watched her pass infront of their cells with malace and hate in their eyes. Some even reached out towards her, the same as the day before.
Dr. Lecter was awake and alert, sitting on the side of his bunk. The sound of footsteps drew his attention away from one of his drawings on the wall.
As Sam stepped in front of the cell, she was met with the penetrating gaze of Dr. Lecter. She watched a smirk spread across his lips as he slowly stood and moved towards the glass.
"Good morning, Dr. Lecter." Sam inwardly cursed as her voice cracked as she spoke.
"Good morning to you as well, nurse Brodie. Taking the usual rounds this morning? I trust all is sound?"
"Very much so. Most of the inmates are still sleeping."
"Pity. I could use some excitement. It is rather dull, day after day, sitting here, watching the paint chip away from the walls."
A few minutes of silence passed as Dr. Lecter waited for Sam's reply. As he came to the conclusion that she had nothing to say, he decided to change the topic. As he looked into Sam's eyes, he noticed how they were slightly blood-shot and dark circles had formed under them.
"It seems you didn't sleep very well last night. Something on your mind?"
Sam let out a long sigh as she looked down at her clip board to avoid his gaze.
"I'm a bit of an insomniac sometimes." Her answer was short and blunt.
Dr. Lecter could tell he was pushing his way down a path that Sam didn't like to travel down. A smile crossed his face as he decided to press on.
"But it's not just insomnia, is it? Something in your head keeps you up. What is it? Dreams?"
Anger flashed in Sam's eyes as she looked back towards Dr. Lecter. No one had ever so bluntly made conclusions to her sleepless nights and it enraged her that this man, who knew nothing about her, seemed to know everything.
Amusement sparked inside Dr. Lecter as he savored Sam's reaction. He knew he was right and decided to keep pushing.
"You know, you should really talk to someone about these dreams you have. It's not good for ones mental health to keep these things locked up."
Sam remained silent as she stared into Dr. Lecter's maroon eyes. Heat was rising up her neck, causing her face to flush.
"You know," Dr. Lecter nonchalantly looked down to his finger nails as if looking for dirt. "I once had a very sucessful practice of my own. I think it would be good for both of us, if you would accept my help."
As he said this, Sam scoffed. "You, are a very bold man, Dr. Lecter. I appreciate the offer, but I must politely decline."
A frown spread across Dr. Lecter's face as his voice dropped to an icy hiss. "You can't run away from this. One day, it will break from within the walls that keep it at bay, and it will slowly begin to consume you and everyone you hold dear. I've seen it happen many, many times."
Silence passed for a beat before Sam looked down to the floor. Dr. Lecter's words cut deep- so deep, tears stung her eyes, threatening to fall. As she looked back at Dr. Lecter, he had a wry smirk playing across his lips. He thought he'd won. Thought that he had broken her and was waiting to claim his prize.
"You are right. It will consume me. Hell, that's already begun. I live my life day by day, thinking about how broken I've become. How fucked-up in the head I've become. But you know what? I lock that shit down, square myself away, and move the fuck on. I keep keeping on. It's all I can do."
She paused to take a shuddering breath before continuing.
"I don't feel like speaking to someone I don't know from Adam, or doesn't know the first fucking thing about me will help. So, as I said earlier. I must decline."
Before Dr. Lecter could get out a word, Sam turned on her heels and strode off.
'Mighty bold, Ms. Brodie. Mighty bold indeed.' Dr. Lecter smiled as he shook his head and sat down behind his desk. 'This will be quiet the challenge.'
Sam arrived home from the hospital around 6. As soon as she walked inside, she hung up her keys and kicked off her shoes. Dr. Lecter's voice echoed through her head. 'It will slowly begin to consume you and everyone you hold dear.' "If you only fucking knew, Dr. Lecter... If you only knew." Sam headed up the stairs leading to her bedroom.
Upon entering her room, she moved towards her closet and opened it. Military uniforms took up most of the space, limiting the amount of civilian clothes to a few shirts and a couple pair of jeans. Bending down towards the floor, her hands felt the cool metal of an old, green ammo can. With a small grunt, she lifted it and made her way over to her bed. As she sat down, she placed the box on the floor between her legs and opened the lid. The box was filled to the top with old pictures and other trinkets. The first thing that caught her eye was a small black box. Upon opening it, she was staring at her Purple Heart Medal. The engraving on the back was short and to the point. 'On behalf of the United States Government, we would like to thank you for your commitment and sacrifice to your country.' Sam sat flipping the coin around in her hands for a few minutes before returning it back into the box. Almost out of reflex, her hand made it's way up to the scar above her eyebrow. As she was preparing to put the ammo can back into the closet, a small red photo album caught her eye. As she retrieved it, she laid back on her bed as she began to flip through the pictures.
Sam was taken back in time to her earlier days in the Army. Pictures of her standing on the inside of a Blackhawk helicopter, in mid-flight, smiling like a devil. Another picture showed her and the rest of her platoon doing push-ups, without a doubt being punished because of someones fuck up. As Sam flipped through the pictures, she found herself smiling and laughing at all of the memories.
Suddenly, the laughter ended and the smile faded as she came to a picture of her and Matt. They were 7 years younger, standing beside each other with their arms draped around one another, smiling into the camera. Sam could remember this moment like it was yesterday. It was the day they graduated basic training. She ran her fingers over Matt's face as tears began flowing from her eyes.
With dried tears stiff on her cheeks, Sam stood and walked down to the kitchen. Upon opening the freezer, it was bare besides a few bags of frozen vegetables and to her relief, a bottle of Tullamore Dew Whiskey.
A few hours later, she had polished off the bottle and was fully ossified. In times like these, Sam's mind was her greatest enemy. Alcohol was the only weapon she possessed that had any effect in silencing her thoughts for a while.
Standing from the table she was sitting at proved to be quite the challenge. After a few feeble attempts, she was up and moving towards the stairs. "It will consume you! pfft. Consume this, Dr. Lecter." Once Sam reached the stairs, she realized her mistake. Getting drunk downstairs, when her bed was upstairs was a bad idea. Taking a deep breath, she took the first step. Not feeling the hard wood from the stairs under her feet, she knew what was coming. With a loud thud, her right eye met with the railing of the stair case. At this point, Sam was thankful for the brown water flowing through her veins, as she hardly felt the impact. "Goddamn fucking bullshit ass bitch!" The air was fillled with slurred lines of colorful language as she vented her frustrations.
Not trusting herself to try the stairs a second time, she decided to sleep it off on the couch. As she drifted to sleep, Sam was thankful that the copious amount of alcohol allowed her to fall into an immediate, drunken slumber.
