Stelios- Cyprus
Niran- Thailand
Angelique- Seychelles
Tsvetan- Bulgaria
…
First proper chapter.
...
The screaming wouldn't stop. It attacked him from all sides and no matter how loud Stelios called out, it just would not cease. He writhed, clawing at his face as his half-asleep mind howled at him to do something.
With a cry, he sat up straight, panting as he finally realised it was just his alarm. He fumbled for the thing, sitting smugly on his bedside table, and switched it off, then he allowed himself a few moment to calm down.
Stelios' life seemed to be constantly ruled by shrill noises nowadays. If it wasn't his alarm, then it was his pager. And if it wasn't those things, it was a patient crying or a beeping hospital machine. It was a wonder he hadn't had a breakdown yet.
Not that Stelios didn't love his job, because he most certainly did! He loved being around people and fulfilling such a caring role. He loved hearing the stories his patients had to share, and there was never a dull moment in a job like this. Of course, the rose-tinted dream of saving lives and being a hero that had carried him through medical school had long since evaporated, and nowadays he simply focused on trying not to inadvertently kill his patients. Or fall asleep in the morgue. Again.
Besides, his work was all he had left since his brother's disappearance.
They still didn't know what happened to Heracles. No body had ever been found, and there was no evidence as to who had taken him, or even murdered him. All Stelios knew was that one day he'd left for work and never came back. Even the owners of the restaurant he'd worked at said he never showed up that day.
It had only happened a couple of months ago, and it still weighed upon Stelios' life like a raincloud, and he still clung to the hope that his brother would be found safe. Heracles had to be alive! He needed his big brother. It was Heracles who had encouraged him to pursue a medical career. Heracles who saved every penny to send him to university and make sure he had all the textbooks and stationery he needed. Stelios never realised how emotionally dependent on his brother he had been, until he was gone.
There was also that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The sly thought that threatened to drive him wild: that Heracles might have walked out on him of his own free will. Maybe he got tired of caring for his emotional younger brother, a job he'd had since Stelios was three. Maybe he couldn't take it anymore. Stelios refused to believe such an evil thought.
As well as plaguing his every living moment, Heracles' disappearance would also creep into his nightmares. The worst of them usually involved him being dragged away, screaming for his little brother to help whilst Stelios just stood there, frozen. Sometimes Heracles would be murdered before his very eyes. And still he'd do nothing.
He'd had one of those nightmares that night, which was why he'd been so spooked by the alarm.
Naturally, Stelios hated those nightmares. Not only did they bring his own fears to life- there must have been something he could've done to save Heracles!- but they came with a rather embarrassing side effect…
Stelios swore as he pulled back the covers. Yes, he'd done it again. The damp patch on his bed sheets glared back at him, and Stelios groaned as he climbed out of bed. He was a grown man! He shouldn't still be wetting himself over a few bad dreams!
He glanced at the clock to find he was already running late, and quickly stripped his duvet and mattress, leaving the stained items on a heap in the floor, along with the other mess that only came from working 10-24 hour shifts. He'd sort it out when he got home, because right now he barely had time to shower before starting work.
Stelios stumbled out of his T-shirt and boxers as he made his way to the bathroom, wondering if he would have to skip breakfast again.
…
Stelios burst out of the door, jogging down the garden path and leaping over the fence. He tried not to think about how he'd accidentally put the shirt of his blue doctor's uniform on backwards in his haste to leave. There was no time to change it now.
His plimsolls squeaked, slapping against the damp floor as he let out a string of curses. Late again! And now he had the shift from hell! Well, most shifts had a hellish quality in his profession: long hours with no time to pee or grab a bite to eat, let alone get five minute's rest. Still, he seemed to have taken care of the lack of toilet breaks already.
Stelios had to confess he was glad of the distraction. Running around after patients; getting barked at by consultants and surgeons; and being bombarded with nurses asking him to prescribe this and look at that chart and check so-and-so patient was still alive was certainly a lively distraction. As long as he was rushed off his feet and constantly tired and confused and occasionally terrified, he had no time to mourn his brother, or dwell on those horrific dreams. Those crippling, horrifying dreams.
Occasionally, there would be an odd nightmare, different to the others, that felt so real. It involved him lying in bed, completely paralysed as Heracles helped him drink red wine from a beaker. Then he'd stand up and walk away, and all Stelios could do in his drugged, fever-induced state was whimper helplessly as he left. He'd have asked Arthur what those dreams meant, but certainly didn't want to look foolish or weird in front of his rival.
Stelios shook the thought from his head as he ran. He didn't like to dwell on that nightmare; it was too vivid for his comfort.
…
He burst through the doors of the hospital, trying his best to tiptoe around visitors over to the reception desk to sign in without being noticed. But of course, he was unsuccessful.
"Slept in, did we?" asked Niran the receptionist, not looking up from the form he was filling in, his usual smile plastered across his face. He ran a hand through his messy hair, pushing his glasses further up his nose before the jotting continued. "Luckily they haven't started ward round yet. You can make it if you run."
"An accident, I can assure you! But thanks." Stelios scribbled his name in the register just as his pager went off and he had no choice but to answer, darting over to the nearest phone. Feliks, one of the nurses, wanted him to prescribe some more painkillers for a patient in the burns unit. He said he's be there after ward round. He called goodbye to Niran as he sprinted off, nearly sending various nurses and patients flying in the process.
And so it began, yet another busy, confusing day that would leave him utterly exhausted.
"Oh, there you are, Steli!"
Stelios turned around to find fellow Junior Doctor, Angelique Lalande jogging to catch up with him. She was a tiny young woman with large, dark eyes and a mess of frizzy brown hair, and was one of his closest friends.
"Hi, Angie," he gave a curt nod and a warm smile, walking quickly along the corridor.
"Hey. I was wondering if you're busy," she continued, still jogging to keep up with the taller man's strides.
"Um, I have ward round and got to go see a patient, then someone will probably give me more work to do."
"Oh," she looked down, "I was wondering if you could just check up on Mr Adnan for me. I have to deliver some X-rays to the radiologist's desk and they're at opposite ends of the hospital."
"Oh not Mr Adnan," he groaned.
"Please! This would be a huge favour."
Stelios looked over at Angelique's wide, hopeful eyes and he sighed.
"Fine, I'll go look after the miserable old sod for you."
"Thanks! You're a star!"
…
Tsvetan trembled as his fingers wrapped around the syringe and he pulled the cap off. The seemingly innocent clear liquid just sat snug within the glass, waiting to be used. By him. On him. Every impulse screamed at him to run. He almost did there and then.
"And… and you'll promise to let my sister go if I do this?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time. The man in front of him- the so-called 'Liberator'- sighed, nodding slowly once more.
"She will be free the moment the potion enters your bloodstream."
The Liberator hid his face behind an ornate, full-faced mask. It was a sickly neon green, silver and emerald patterns swirling to mark the contours of the face. Hundreds of tiny, painstakingly-painted patterns. The mask gave the man's face an almost cat-like appearance, completed by a pair of dark green, almost inhuman eyes. They were not the eyes of a sane man. His hair was covered by an oversized grey hoodie, and his jeans and trainers were covered in mud. Altogether, not a man Tsvetan would trust.
And now he'd taken Tsvetan's little sister, holding her to ransom.
He didn't know what business this man had with him, or what the two of them were doing outside a hospital, but he didn't like it one bit. This Liberator guy was going to make him do something evil, he could feel it. And he was just as evil for going along with it.
"No one's gonna get hurt, are they?" He hated the way his voice quivered.
"That's really not your business. Now, you know what to do after the injection?"
Tsvetan nodded.
"Then there's really no need to wait any longer."
"Of course, but," Tsvetan looked away, "what will happen to me after I take this?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
He sighed, deciding to say no more on the subject. There was no point anyway. As if this man would give him a straight answer. All he knew was that every ounce of his being was telling him to turn away. He didn't have to do this. He was a free man!
But for once in his life, Tsvetan ignored his instincts and did the unthinkable.
He became a monster.
With a dry sob, he rolled back his sleeve and plunged the syringe into his arm.
