Dr Harkins October 13th, 2023

I've found that people often need distractions to cope with the harsh realities of life. Most of my patients immerse themselves in news and pop culture to divert their attention from their unfortunate circumstances. Even my colleagues engage in office gossip to help the workdays go by faster. As for me, I pour all my concentration into my work. It helps me forget how isolated I've become.

Life used to be so much simpler before my condition. I would wake up, go to the grocery store for food, research new medical practices, and clock in for my shift. Once work started, I would go from patient to patient until my work day ended. During my walk home, I would plan my dinner, then cook and prepare for bed. However, ever since that night, I had to adapt to continue my career as a doctor.

Now, I wake up in the evenings and continue investigating the symptoms of my condition, sometimes venturing to different towns to find obscure research in less-than-reputable bookstores. At work, I constantly starve myself like a model who needs to stay skinny to sustain their ego. When my shift is over, I meet my contacts to purchase blood illegally, finally relieving the never-ending hunger.

Tonight is a special occasion. Having obtained a few vials of O+, I cleared my schedule to be able to spend my few nights off reading the new stack of books I found on rare blood conditions. Clocking out, I retrieve my coat from my locker, feeling to make sure the precious contents are still there. With a breath of relief, I head towards the exit, waving farewell to my peers.

"Dr. Harkins," a voice calls out. I turn to see one of the nurses walking towards me. The young redhead brushes her fiery hair away from her face seductively.

"Hello Rachel," I reply, straightening my face mask. Faking a smile, I politely ask, "how may I help you?"

Leaning in, she playfully responds, "I was hoping to talk about the other night." Her perfume is strong, and her beauty would have a normal man in a stupor.

"Oh" I say, pretending to be flustered. Damn it, I think to myself. Did she notice me extracting a bit of her blood after she fell asleep? "What about it?" Paranoia sneaks into my mind.

"It's just, I had a really good time." Leaning in so her chest presses against mine, she whispers into my ear, "I was hoping we could do it again once I get off tonight."

My fears recede, and I apologetically respond, "Unfortunately, I'm leaving town for the weekend, so I won't be able to. But I enjoyed myself as well." To sell the lie, I lean to her ear and twirl her hair around my finger. "We will do it again very soon." Playfully, I joke, "we wouldn't want our colleagues to see us. After all, we are hospital staff not following social distancing."

Giggling, she rubs my hand in hers. "True, we just have to break the six feet distancing next time we want some fun."

Stepping away, I wave before heading to the exit. As soon as I'm outside, I sigh. Normally, I'm not one to play with a women's heart, but getting blood isn't exactly something you can do without attracting suspicion. Sex is something people wouldn't question, which is why it's the ideal method to feed.

Normally, the sounds of the city aren't very loud at this hour, but the streets are blocked with police officers diverting traffic. My usual route home from Denver Health is a 20-minute walk north on Speer Blvd. However, the streets, sidewalks, and bike trail along Cherry Creek are all blocked off.

Seeing a police officer standing nearby, irritated at the angry pedestrians taking their frustrations out on him for the detour, I straighten my coat and walk over to him for information. "Sorry to bother you, officer, but is there any way I can pass through? Unfortunately, my home is this way," I point towards the deserted streets. "And because of the layout of the city, there aren't many other ways to get to my destination."

Surveying me, he must have concluded that I was a respectable citizen rather than the typical homeless or disgruntled civilians he was used to dealing with. "I'm sorry, sir, but due to the protests, we've had to block off most roads surrounding the downtown area." Looking around, he leans in closer and says, "we even had to evacuate the homeless living along the creek."

I gasp, trying to sound interested. There is a vague memory of hearing about a supposed terrorist attack, but I had brushed it off as a publicity stunt.

Scratching his chin, the officer sighs. "Yeah, apparently the mayor is expecting a lot of media coverage tonight since Hamas threatened one of the major U.S. cities. Why he even thinks they would target Denver of all places is beyond me. Just wish those bastards would die already so we can move on with our lives."

I'm not one to shy away from the idea of death; after all, I see it every day. However, it always fascinates me when people make such blatant statements regarding genocide. "Do you know the fastest way for me to get to Colfax and Speer?"

Forgetting there was another person he was talking to, he snaps back to reality and takes a moment to regain his thoughts. "Well, the fastest way would be to take Broadway north to Colfax. From there, go west until you hit Speer." As he turns to return to his duties, he looks over his shoulder and warns, "be careful, sir. You know how protestors get when their emotions kick in. It'll be a bitch once you get to the capitol, but once you move past the crowd, you should be fine."

"Thank you officer," I say, giving a respectful bow. As I straighten up, I see that the corners along Broadway are barricaded with officers enforcing the barrier. It's strange how much fear can disrupt daily functions. Although this wasn't the first civil protest I've experienced during my time in Denver, there was certainly an uneasy atmosphere. The last time I felt uneasy was that night. I can feel myself begin to remember but force myself to focus on my present circumstances. With a sigh, I begin walking into the city, like a lamb to the slaughter.