The action takes place during the Second World War.
Elizabeth is a recent medical school graduate from Boston who hopes to find her dream job, find a man she loves, have children and live a peaceful life. But her dreams are shattered the moment she...
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"James," I whispered. "Do you have brothers or sisters?"
"I have a little sister. She is seven years old," he answered. The corners of the guy's lips turned up.
"And the children?"
"No."
"And the wife?" I asked one more time.
I wanted to tell him a story. Let it be fictional. The only problem was that this time was the first time I couldn't come up with any kind of story, no matter how completely stupid, to turn the soldier's mind in a positive direction. I assumed it wasn't because of the whiskey I'd drained from the bottle moments before. Someone else prevented me from doing this.
I furrowed my brows and pursed my lips tightly as James slowly shook his head to the side. He was barely able to speak, but seemed to be fully conscious. I could not understand how he was able to endure so calmly. Usually, when a wound of such a size is opened in the human body that the blood flows in torrents, the victim screams out of his voice, his body thrashes in all directions as if trying to get rid of the pain.
This guy suffers exemplary not only mental, but also physical pains, seemingly resigned to his fate.
"Do you have a fiancée?" Scarlett joined the conversation.
I looked at her with a displeased look, but she didn't notice because she was only looking at James now. The blonde was scared. It could be seen on her face. She was never one to hide her emotions. And day after day, seeing soldiers wounded or inevitably dying, she always burst into tears.
Now was no exception. Traitor tears were already rolling down her cheeks.
"No," James replied, but he didn't even look at Scarlet. He was looking at the light brown ceiling of this building, then at me. Nowhere else.
"Okay," I sighed and pulled my hand away from James' face. "Then perhaps you have a girlfriend to whom you intend to propose after returning from the war?"
"No, I have nothing, except for that little sister, who is currently being looked after by our nanny. Today I lost my best friend with whom we were on duty at the front. I don't have parents either. My sister and I lost them two years ago," what James told me was not new to me.
Every day I listen to the stories of the soldiers about their personal lives, which they lived before the war started. They constantly talked about how much they missed their parents, grandparents, siblings, loved ones and children. But still... At this moment, I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I didn't feel surprised by James' story. I just couldn't accept the idea that this guy and so many of them were dying in this war so stupidly and senselessly.
Sitting on the edge of the bed right next to James, I squeezed his hand tightly and looked at Scarlet with an impatient look, lips pressed tightly together. She nodded in understanding and left me alone with this soldier. She went to see how the other patients in this room were doing on the bunks that had become beds.
"James, listen," as soon as my colleague left, I immediately relaxed and moved forward a little to take a closer look at the wounded man. At first glance, any normal person would think that we are a couple in love and that I am going to kiss him. However, I did not intend to do this. No matter how beautiful he is. "I want you to do something for me."
"What?" the guy asked in a helpless voice and looked at me with narrowed eyes. His eyes were already immortal, as was his entire body. I squeezed his hand, trying to give him strength.
"I want you to try to think only about beautiful things. Try to imagine that at this moment you are in the sweetest place for you." I asked, looking intently into his brown eyes. "Can you do it?"
The guy nodded slightly with a deep sigh. If you didn't know that his intestines were irreversibly damaged and that he didn't have much left, you'd think that something was just pressing relentlessly on his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe. However, his breathing was difficult only because the bleeding hole in his stomach caused him terrible pain, which, unfortunately, I could not relieve or reverse.
"Tell me about that place," I whispered.
James was silent for a few moments, finally took another deep breath, and with the exhalation, he began to speak:
"When I was very young, about seven... I often went to Texas to visit my grandfather. He was a large farmer. Raised chickens, cattle. He also made wine. He was loved by all the people of Texas. According to them, my grandfather is one of the best winemakers in the entire state of Texas. He also had stables. I had my favorite horse. I used to go to my grandfather with the greatest desire and joy when I knew that he would let me ride my favorite horse. That animal was my best friend at the time," James smiled slightly. "When I rode on him, I forgot the whole world. It seemed like I didn't care about anything anymore. Just the unrestrained freedom that horse enjoys and shares with me."
"What was the name of your horse?" I asked.
"Asia," answered the soldier.
"Was it a female?"
"Yes. Very graceful, dignified... He knew how to move, trot, ride like a racehorse. Although it never was," James let out a soft chuckle, accompanied by a cough. I grabbed him by the shoulders and started stroking his collarbone area, trying to calm him down.
I glanced at his exposed gut. There is not much time left for this young man. The sands of his life were melting like snow in the spring. All his bedclothes were soaked in blood, as was his military uniform. I was glad that despite the excruciating pain he was in now, this guy still managed to remain fully conscious and maybe even less depressed.
I wanted to say something else to him, but I immediately cringed when I saw that James let out his last breath and his gaze froze. He was looking straight at me with his brown but dull eyes. His silent look spoke more than a thousand words. I straightened up and pressed his eyelids shut and stood up to wipe my bloody hands on my pants.
I scanned the room and turned back to James. If I didn't know that he had just died peacefully but painfully, I would have thought that he was just fast asleep. He looked so innocent, so good.
