Tiny Stories

Not A General Hospital

"Your daughter has aplastic anemia." He turned from the parents and smiled at the little girl. "It means your body is not producing enough blood cells."

"Will she be alright? It's not fatal, is it?"

"Only in sporadic cases. We will begin treatment with medication first. If that does not help, we will start looking at doing blood transfusions or a stem cell transplant."

"Thank you, Doctor."

He left the room quietly. The nurse walked up to him.

"How'd it go?"

"Well enough. The girl will be alright."

"And you?"

"What do you mean by that?" he laughed.

"I've noticed something about you, Doctor Creighton. I'm not like you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I take that back. You're not like me."

"Ashley, stop being cryptic. What is going on?"

"You drew her blood and ran it through a broken centrifuge and knew that she had anemia. No one else could have done that. But you also aren't the best when it comes to long surgeries. Dante," she pulled him into a closet. "You. Aren't. Normal."

"Thank you."

"Not what I meant. You are a magician when it comes to blood, but you ask for help when it comes to brain work. It's not that you aren't good at it, but you second guess yourself at everything, except when it comes to the blood, the heart, and the rest of the circulatory system."

"What point are you trying to make, Ashley?"

"What are you, Dante Creighton?"

"Something you should be afraid of." He paused. "Something from nightmares."

"And yet you seem like such a saint."

"Perhaps to some."

"And to others? What are you then? A demon?"

"Perhaps."

"Dante?"

"If I were to tell you what I am, I would lose my job."

"I can keep a secret."

"Can you?"

"I promise."

Dante grabbed a scalpel off of a supplies shelf near him and turned it in his hand. He wordlessly motioned for her to offer her palm. When she let her hand fall against his, Dante gently took the scalpel and made a small cut in her palm. He followed suit with his own. He took her cut hand with his and squeezed it tight.

"This is absolutely unsanitary, Dante."

"You cannot say a word to anyone about what I am about to tell you. Do you swear it?"

"I do."

"Say it, Ashley. Do you swear?"

"I swear it."

Dante felt the sting of his healing process beginning. He let her hand go and sighed.

"Ashley, I seem to be unearthly good at blood-related illnesses because I can smell diseases in the blood. Honestly, I run those stupidly simple tests, so it doesn't look like I'm guessing. The second I walk into a patient's room, I can tell if there is anything wrong with their heart, blood, or bone marrow. I went to medical school because I wasn't as good with optics, brain work, gastro-intestinal work, and other likewise stuff."

"How can you smell diseases?"

"My olfactory senses and my brain are hard-wired for it."

"Then what was your whole spiel about nightmares and saints and demons for?"

"If I remember correctly, you brought up the saints and demons."

"Dante! Please just answer my question."

"Take a guess for yourself. What am I, Ashley?"

"Something from nightmares. A saint to some, a demon to others. And you can smell blood diseases."

"Those are all things that make me what I am, but that is only a list of traits, not a title."

"Stop making me guess, Dante."

"I am a vampire, Ashley."

She froze in terror, her eyes wide. Dante knelt on the ground and took her hand.

"You need not be afraid of me."

"But, but-"

"Think about it. I've had a plethora of opportunities, including this one. If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead long before now."