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Rain fell outside the apartment’s walls, the sound of it hitting the windows prominent in the quiet of the room. A news report played at a low volume on the tv, its hum filling the space. A flower sat in the corner of the room, nearing the end of its life. The leaves drooping from the stem yearning to reach back to the soil from where it had initially grown. It’s carmine petals fading in their vibrancy and losing their lustre. Their beauty fading in their age. Catherine Wright, the owner of this plant never much cared for it. She’d been gifted the flower by Luisa Scott, the person she was planning to propose to, to spend the rest of her life with. Until they were as wilted as the very flower that she thought about now.
Despite the flowers importance it would only continue to wilt and eventually fade into nothing, and so she stepped towards it. Planning to rip it from its soil and throw it away. Her hands wrapped around the stem and began to pull. Roots holding on like a toddler to a parent’s hand.
The plant seemed to brighten under her hand. The petals regained their carmine colouring, the leaves no longer yearning to return to the soil. The plant glowed with vitality, radiating golden light from its centre. No longer was it wilting and nearing its demise.
Catherine Wright stepped back, her hands leaving the stem, ceasing their tugging and freezing by her side. Her mind normally so quick and sharp like the edge of a knife, froze and dulled no longer running a mile a minute. She couldn’t think of an explanation. There was no way in which a plant could come back to life when it had been a day away from death, from sinking into nothing. Maybe with constant care and attention it could have made a recovery, but never this fast. Nothing that was dying, injured or wounded ever recovered this quickly. It was something that took time and even then, healing never bought you back to how you were before. It left cracks.
It was unnatural to take something so close to death and bring it back like nothing had happened. To restore something to its original state. It was like rewinding the effects and hardships of life that made someone who they were. No matter that this was a flower, if this could happen to a mere flower who’s to say that it couldn’t happen to an animal? A human? Or anything. Was this simply healing or was it a manipulation of time itself?
“Hospitalisations and fatality rate reach an all new high,” Catherine’s thoughts were interrupted by the news report, “The cause for these increased rates is currently unknown…”
She tuned the report back out, she’d heard it all before.
But maybe if she could control it, this power could save millions, it could bring them from the brink of death. Instead of falling into the sweet arms of death she could bring them back into their mortal existence.
Their painful, stress inducing existence… Maybe death was a mercy upon those suffering. Who was she to take away that sweet release.
She was no God; she was as human as anyone else. Deciding to brave the storm she marched over to the front door and tore it open, stepping outside into the stormy weather.
The train was crammed full of people, everyone was in the others space practically touching due to the limited floor space. Nearing her station, she moved towards the exit of the train, as she did her hand brushed against that of an older person, only for a second and yet their skin seemed to brighten and their wrinkles fade. They stood taller, their spine straightening after years of bending. Catherine didn’t notice merely brushing the accidental touch off as just that, an accident.
The hospital was in full blown chaos. There was no more room for patients, every bed was full despite the constant flow of people coming in. Nothing could be done to help them. They had to sit waiting in the emergency room chairs until either they could get a transfer to another hospital that had beds, or until a bed was opened up.
Catherine didn’t have time to consider these people and where they might go, or whether they might be okay. She had to focus on the task at hand, she had to ensure each of her patients were properly cared for. They were massively understaffed, having 6 beds to each nurse, which was way over the normal limit of 4.
The shift dragged on, patients coming and going. More going away in a body bag than on their own two feet. Each time a patient passed Catherine felt the strain increasing, it’s like her body was pulling her in the direction of the sickest, her body moving towards them before her brain could think to stay away. Yet, even when she stood next to them her body having pulled her here, she pretended it was all for a simple check in, being sure never to touch the patients bare skin.
Frederick Vaughn, the owner of the hospital and the very person who stood to gain from so many patients within his walls chose to do a photo op sometime around lunch, standing close enough to a patient to seem like he cared but far enough away that the patient couldn’t see his disgust. He smiled and postured feigning empathy and making empty promises to each and every patient he saw. He had no power over life or death. If he did, he would lock it up so tight that it could never breathe. Mr. Vaughn would sell the right to life for profit and ensure that only those with the deepest pockets would be able to access the lifesaving treatment.
Eventually he left, going to a fancy lunch with investors who would only praise his efforts in this medical crisis. When he had never lifted a finger to help. Barely paying enough money to keep the hospital doors open. He was no hero; he was only a man powered by his own greed.
Finally, the clock chimed 3:30pm and Catherine could clock out from her shift. As she approached the doors to the hospital, paramedics came rushing in carrying with them one Luisa Scott, her blond her scattered around her and blood coating her clothes. Where they had been a beautiful pink this morning when she had left for work, they were now stained a crimson hue. The blood gushed out from her side paramedics and hospital staff franticly trying to apply pressure to her wound. It did nothing.
Catherine turned around quickly, racing back into the hospital and following the paramedics. She had to know if Luisa was okay. If she would make it. Before she could make it to the emergency room she was stopped by another nurse.
“I’m sorry but you can’t go any further, unless you are related to the patient or are their spouse,” He had a stern attitude like he saw too many people rushing into the ward trying to see their loved ones. “If you want to wait, you can stay in the waiting room outside”
Luisa shared her heart and soul, yet she didn’t share her blood, or a bond of marriage. Catherine tracked lines upon lines into the cold tile of the waiting room, she could have gone home and rested, but any of the strain she had felt while working had faded away. Leaving her only with wide eyed alertness, and a sparking in her mind that couldn’t be slowed. Any observer of Miss Catherine Wright would see a ball of stress, pacing endlessly and looking around feverishly.
It felt like eons went by before a call went out to the waiting room, every second twisting into hours, the time standing practically still. It felt like every time she looked to the clock it had gone backwards.
“Any visitors for Miss Luisa Scott, could you please follow me.” It was the same nurse from before, his face was softer, his brows no longer forming a crease between his eyes, they now stood relaxed. Catherine rushed behind him eager to see her girlfriend. The room felt like death, the room was bleak and seemed like all the colours had been drained from it. All except the brilliant crimson bleeding through white bandages.
Impossibly, time slowed further, the beeping of the heart monitor slow and inconsistent as though it planned to stop any second. All Catherine could do was stand in the doorway in shock, surely there was something they could do. There was no way that this was the end, not after every battle they fought to get here, every hardship they had weathered together. It wasn’t fair. Why when Luisa had done nothing that marked her as worthy of death. Yet she lay there, life slowly fading from her body, heart stuttering, and lungs failing.
Would it work? Could she save the love of her life with a mere touch of the hand. It wasn’t a question of could she do it, it was a question of should she do it. Should she take away the chance for her very soul to escape the suffering that was brought by life. Who was she to turn her face and scoff at every other person who had died that day and suddenly pay attention to save the person she cared about. Every person had someone they loved, was it right for her to ignore them only to save Luisa?
The strain on her body returned, like a whisper in her mind urging her forward. To take that step towards her, to save her and bring her back from the brink of death. From the inevitable pull of death and destruction.
In her desire not to play God with life or death she had inevitably done it anyway. By ignoring the pull towards each and every patient, she had chosen to condemn every patient she met with death. Painful and slow death. She had doomed every loved one to feel the pain and grief of loss.
Yet, she was no God; she was only human.