Worthless

Chapter 1

You know when they say your life flashes before your eyes right before your death? Well whoever, “they” are, they’re wrong.                

The moment of impact; the final blow. Where the only thing going through your mind is, no… Or why me? That moment is the exact moment so surreal you can’t even process the images of the world scattered across your minute eyes. When the only thing you can even fathom in your brain at the moment is questioning whether or not It was worth it. Is it worth it, to stay in a place where you are abused? You tell me.                

If the answer is, no, you have no idea the intricacy, complexity of my brain. Don’t even try to understand my thought process. I am a scholar. A professor at a University. So smart, I graduated college at 17. So knowledgeable I took masters classes for the fun of it. So why, you ask, am I stupid enough to be in a surreal life or death situation?      

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“She’s stable, for now. The extensive internal bleeding needs to be taken care of right away. We will have to stitch up her arm after. Keep a hard compress on it. This needs to be done now.”                

Sickness and death. The smells of a hospital.      

The beep, beep, beep of my heart monitor.

The intricate shuffling of doctors in and out.

The sounds of the ICU.

And time goes by and by and by.                

“Rose, hunny I know you’re awake. I am a doctor.” But, there happens to be no hospital sound that can match his.

Dr. Samuel Schafer.

Schafer coming from a German origin I presume. I never did get around to asking the man, considering the numerous of times I’ve been here; with Dr. Samuel Schafer waking me up.                

“You have a good voice.” I peeked my right eye open, bearing in mind the unpleasant swelling state of the left.                

His long, brown hair was fingered back, cascading around his chiseled cheekbones and ears. To run just one hand through such silky hair has been a desire for what seems to be years now.                

“How do you mean?” A quizzical look I’ve seen many a times dampened his face, making folds above his thick eyebrows. It gave him an aged look. It didn’t suit him well, a man of such youth; 27 to be exact.               

  “It’s like grandma’s cookies after not eating for weeks.” I snorted, shortly to be reminded some work had just been surgically done on me. A severe pain shot through my whole face.

My punishment for showing emotion.               

  I hid the agony well and continued, “Or should I say, it’s like morphine after falling down the stairs again and again...” My voice noticeably trailed off .

The wince that was prominent on my face now was not brought on by pain.

Falling down the stairs, tripping at work, bumping into someone who didn’t see me. All sad excuses for what actually happens.               

  “Oh, well I think I like the first analogy much better.”

He knew. I could tell he did. The Dr. Samuel is gone. The soft, I care for my patient, Samuel is back. I liked soft Samuel, just like the one three weeks ago, caring for my broken hand.