I gulp loud enough to be heard from a mile away, and then the soldier says,"Did you not hear me? Come out!" We're still face to face, eye to eye, crouched on the bare marble floor of the first aid station. Or as I enjoy to think of it as a small shack, with shingles hanging from the roof, and dents pushing inward on the sides of the station. But the inside was immaculate and clear. Translucent almost.
"I apologize for hiding." I say higher than I meant too, my voice shaky and anxious like. He looks directly at my bullet-legged hole and says without regret,"My shots are improving."
I turn my head in disgust. I'm still under the desk, and at this point I'm not sure I would desire to exit it.
"I'm sorry that was not a humorous joke, but I must say that the color of your eyes really does take away the bleeding bullet in your leg."
This time I give out a light chuckle and look him in the eyes. He proclaims a short blonde haircut, and eyes as light as a perfect blue sky. His skin is perfectly clear, not a blemish in sight. That is until he turns his head slightly and I notice a long, deep, red scar across the left side of his neck. I quickly look away, but he notices my staring and turns bright red.
"I'm sorry." I recalled
"Oh it's no big deal really," he says craning his neck.
He looks in my eyes once more and reaches out his hand. I certainly was not going to pass up an opportunity for help, so I swiftly grap his hand, and his slender fingers interlock with mine.
"I can help you patch that up," he says," And I once again want to apologize for shooting you. And um, by the way my name is Aaron."
I'm now standing up in the ominous station, and so I quickly hobble towards the mirror, right by the medicine cabinet.
"I would accept your apology, but I don't believe that that would be acceptable."
"Yes, I completely understand." He says disappointingly.
As I look into the mirror, my face is the most pale I have ever seen it before, and my jawline has become more intense. A couple of tears run down my cheek, they glimmer in the moonlight shining down through the window sill.
"My name is Miriam." I recall.
I turn my body slightly, and look deep into Aaron's eyes. He may have been on the opposite end of the room, but his eyes told his whole life story. I could reveal all of his emotions, fears, and desires when looking into his eyes, and I knew that he desired a friend.
I sigh slightly and ask Aaron,"So, will you help me patch this thing up?"
He replies with a reassuring head nod, and pats the table in the corner of the station. I slowly hobble my way over, and hop up on the table.
"Have you ever done this before?" I say anxiously.
"Yes. I was originally trained to become a medic, but my father had other ideas."
"Oh." I say.
I see him grab thread, a needle, wipes, a pair of tweezers, tons of cloth, and alcohol. The most important tool.
"Alright I'm first going to extract the bullet, and then from there I'm just going to patch it up."
I shake my head nervously, and squeeze the side of the table.
"Alright, can you lay down for me?"
I quickly follow Aaron's instructions and lye down on my back. I see him walk over carrying a pair of tweezers, and so I immediately look away.
"Here drink this," he says.
"Alcohol?" I ask.
"It will help deal with the pain."
He then pours some on his hands, and rubs then together, just like how the average person would use a bar of soap.
Killing the bacteria was the first thing that came to my mind.
He picks up the tweezers, and I see him inch his way towards my leg. I feel a sharp pain in my leg, and I quickly clench the side of the table.
Aaron must have seen me squeezing the table so he says,"Great job so far Miriam." I smile slightly, but return to the intensity of the pain. This time Aaron jams the tweezers in hard, and I can hear the gushing of the wound. I grit my teeth and let out a grunt. I quickly consume two more bottles of alcohol, to help relieve the pain. I then hear a slight *tink. I knew it was the sound of metal hitting metal, he must have finally discovered the bullet.
"Okay," he says," I got the bullet out. Now I just need to stitch it up."
I seen him take the kind of thread my great grandmother would use when sewing, and began to stitch up the whole in my leg. The pain was horrid and grueling to endure, but I was joyous that it was over. Once the procedure was complete, I look down at my leg. The light blue thread Aaron used looked as if it could split at any moment, and there was pus coming out through the thread. I knew that Aaron wasn't the best medic in the world, but I'm just happy that I didn't have to stitch it up myself.
"Thanks," I say quietly.
Aaron replies with a slight head nod and says,"You can't move on it for a while, otherwise you could bust open the stitches."
I grunt and say to myself,"No, I must get home to Ari."
But I guess Aaron heard me, and so he asked,"Who is Ari?"
Suddenly my voice became very dry and my hands began to sweat. I quickly wipe them on my pants and say,"Uhhh, Ari is my friend."
Aaron looks at me and raises an eyebrow,"Just friends?" He asks.
I smile and reply with a quiet yes.
"Well, if you want to get back to Ari fast, than you are going to have to sit here for at least three more days."
"Three days!" I screech.
"Yes, it usually around two weeks for the average persons leg to heal. So, you have to remember to be extra careful."
"Okay, thanks." I say
Aaron carefully places his hat on his head, and replies with a,"Well, I must be going, but it certainly was a pleasure meeting you, and once again I am very sorry about your leg."
As he turns away I say nothing more than,"Thank you."
