Medic – Death
Medic was a Necrophobic.
His ultimate fear was that of death, whether it is himself dying or others dying. When the thought or sight of death met him, his mouth dried, his heart and breath went out of sync and his entire frame would tremble like a leaf…
That's why he practiced medicine.
He thought that he could be able to stop death by healing others until they would stay away from the cloaked monster, even if it were just for a brief amount of time. That's the reason he started in the first place; he could save lives and stop death's approach!
It all started when he was five.
He could clearly remember the shock that came when his mother died from pneumonia. He mourned her for days and days, even after the funeral service. Going there wasn't any better; his father was quiet and bitter as the priest said prayers and the immaculate coffin was lowered into the earth, moistened by gentle and cruel rain.
It never stopped after that.
When he was fourteen, his father was killed by soldiers for repeatedly and openly criticizing the Reich. Twenty years, his best friend Eli was sent to Auschwitz and died in the gas chambers. Twenty-five years, his first wife Irma died during an operation after she was in a car accident. Thirty-six years, his teammate Lukyan was shot in the head during a Ceasefire…
They were all stolen by Death.
Even at his age of 45, he could never get over their demises no matter what. He felt frightened whenever he was faced with the prospect. But he was successful in glossing over his fears as excitement, so his comrades would never discover his fear and declared him a coward…
He refused to let anyone die.
No matter how.
~*~
"Scheiβe!"
The Medic pressed his already bloodied hands against the Sniper's wound, hoping to stem the rivers of blood that slowly cascaded down the man's chest. The Aussie had been attacked during ceasefire by a very irate BLU Spy and now he had three bullet wounds to the chest.
Two were removed, but the third was deep.
The German started shouting for more bandages, details on vitals and a few more retractors. He was determined to complete the surgery; the Sniper WILL NOT DIE. His heart pumped mercilessly as the news of the low heart rate reached his ears, his cold eyes focused on the incision as he looked for the bullet still lodged somewhere in his comrade. He trembles as the thought of the Australian dying crawled into him, trying to force it away from his work. Just a little more…
Right there! Don't die!
His hands carry out the procedure as if it was burned into his muscle memory; gently pull the bullet out, drain excess blood, suture the entry wound, close up the patient's chest, close the incision… The Medic looks up, his eyes settling on the machine that measured his heart and breath, his shoulders slumping in relief as he sees it telling him that they were still going – the operation was successful.
If only death could be stopped.
But it always comes.
Next:
EPILOGUE