Clashing of forces

Being grabbed by the collar and smashed into the locked industrial door behind me, my ears rang from the impact. Disorientation and fear made my heart race.

"Fix 'em up!", his voice snapped at me.

"I'm not a doctor. Not yet.", I answered honestly, looking around the hall.

His mean eyes narrowed, while I tried to loosen his grip on me. "You'll have to do.". Considering my very limited options and steadying myself, "Fine, but only if you will let me go without any consequences after!"

My request was followed by silence. Dreading his answer, I held his gaze intendly. Something in his face moved. More a grimace than anything else. Then a grunt followed, as he dropped his rough hands.

Beeing suddenly let go I stumbled and heet of embarresment warmed my face, when I caught my footing. Deciding that his reaction was a sign of agreement, I lifted my hand and chin, "I want your word for it!", while hoping that he was the kind of man for whom this meant something. That, though a criminal, he lived by some form of honor codex and wouldn't just get back on his word. If he had anything to say in the matter anyways. But at least it seemed like he held some form of a higher position, by the way the other men I could make out held themselves in the background.

After staring at it, he firmly grabbed my hand and shook it. Me only then noticing the blood his hands were coated in, the traces they had left on me. We had a deal.

How did this happen to me?

Earlier that day...

My brain was fried. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the professors words and the presentation in front of me, I just couldn't process the information anymore. My heart was not in it, to care enough. The last weeks suffocated me more and more, like a chain that was tightening aroung my neck.

The untimely death of my mom was weighing heavy on my chest. It felt like inhaling agony, grief and lonliness with every breath.

After my parents' divorce in my kindergarden years, she meant everything to me. With my father moving to the neighbouring country, she was all the family I had left. Still, birthdays and holidays had been the most wonderful celebrations with my grandparents and friends. I felt all the love a child could dream of and after my highschool gradutation my mom reassured me, I would succeed in any path I would take.

Medicine seemed like a sensible choice then. I always liked helping others and making sure everyone was taken care of.

But when I came home between semesters to find my mom otherwise so full of energy and life looking pale and exhausted, it hit me like a punch to the stomach. No following doctors appointment could better the sickening feeling in my stomach. Just 4 days later, she was on the surgery table getting her pancreas biopsied to confirm the diagnosis. Pancreatic cancer that had already metastasized to her stomach, spleen, multiple lymph knows and around major arteries. No option for a cure, a feeble chance for surgery.

I knew how bad the prognosis was. And so did my mum after multiple appointments with specialists for pancreatic surgery and oncologists.

And from holding my moms nervous, cold hand when we heard the diagnosis for the first time to the moment her hands went limb in mine in the hospice 6 months later, everything felt like a blur.

How could the world still turn, when she wasnt there anymore.

My eyes burnt for the thousands time. "... for the exam next week.".

I must have missed some vital information everyone around me was franticly noting in their laptops and tablets.

While wiping my burning eyes, I looked down at my own.

The empty document stared back at me. The indicator blinking at the start with no letter written.

Chatter and noises started to errupt as everyone was packing up and left the lecture hall.

With my belongings back in my backpack I opened my phone and messaged Leon. My friend and partner in crime for medic school. He was superb in everything he did, while I mostly passed with mediocre effort. Sitting in the front row seats he would be able to update me on the upcoming exam.

Plugging in my earphones I took purpose to my strides, put a granola bar in my mouth and drove my bicycle to the next event in the clinic. Suture and wound dressing class was a one time skill training, I held there for lower semesters to improve my pocket money. Even though I didnt really need the money, it helped to give me purpose. Purpose, I really needed to keep going.

When overcome by the suffocating lonliness, reminding myself, that my mom would have wanted me to live life to it's fullest, was the only thing that keep me going.

This reminder and Leon's persistence were the reason I was living.

But I also knew I needed to change that. Had to.

And so I did everything that was put on pause during my moms fight against the tumor and the time after.

I tried to eat healthyly and do sports as the best form of antidepressants like my mom told me too. With 25 years of age I felt stupid to be such a mommys girls and goody-two-shoes, but I was trying not to fall deeper into self destruction. In one and a half years I would finish my studys and start working, helping people like my mom. That was my goal.

Driven by this goal I stepped into the clinics teaching room, prepared everything needed for the class and put on my white coat as the younger students filled the room.

Time flew by as I showed them the different suture techniques, wound dressing types and answered their questions along the way. Checking my phone while I left the clinic walking towards my bike, I didn't see it coming. In the dimly lit area a dark car had stopped next to me as multiple hands had grabbed me and hauled me into the van. My paniced scream was met with a hand covering my mouth. I smelled smoke, alcohol and blood.

Adrenalin rushed through me and fueled my fight agains my abductors. "Shut up!", a voice bellowed. I swung my fist and it connected hard. A yelp sounded from the man I must have hit.

"Fuck. Will you finally tie her up!!", more hands grabbed for me and moved my wrists behind my back. No matter how hard I fought, they were so much stronger than me and used zip-ties to fixate them in their spot. I counted three men plus the driver.

"Will you shut it or do we need to gag you?", one of them - the one I had hit - asked malicously while taking out duct tape.

Nor seeing the option to escape or the appeal of the tape, I kept my mouth shut. "Thats what I thought.", Mr. Duct-tape spat.

While I was shoved to the floor of the van, Mr Zip-tie stayed next to me, while the other two turned towards seats in the front. I couldnt see where we were going, so I tried to focus on the feeble atempt to estimate the amount of time and the speed we were driving with.

Utterly afraid and on adrenalin I tried to focus, knowing that I needed to keep calm in order to have a change to escape, survive or get through what was about to come.

Volterra was neither a small nor big city, but also not known for human trafficing, murder or other crimes in particular. I wasn't rich either, so I really had no clue why someone would abduct me.

But they didn't cover their faces, so maybe they would kill me anyways. With my heart beating to my throat, I wanted to ignore that possibility and focus on any other option. But what if it was a painless death. Would it be so bad to go? The peaceful tree my mom was burried underneath and my reserved spot next to it popped up in my mind.

But before I could wallow too deeply in that thought, the car stopped and I was dragged to my feet meeting gravel and dirt as I exited the vehicle.

The men started towards the dimly lit building, while Mr. Zip-Tie dragged me by my arm while the Mr. Duct-Tape brought up the rear. We hastly climbed the stairs next to what seemed to once must have been a delivery entrance, elevated for trucks to drop off what they have transported.

Through a heavy metal door we hurriedly entered into a big hall of the former factory building. Between huge old machinery stations sofas and tables were placed in multiple seating areas. Against my exspectations it seemed tidy and well taken care of. Little traces and marks in the stone floor bore witness to the extensive use of the space. The light dimmed further into the hall hiding possible spectators in the shadows. On the far end stairs seemed to led up to a overseeing office.

But before I could look more closely, we urgendly walked through a narrow hallway and into the next room, with many workstations set up.

All desk lamps were turned off, except one on a huge reception desk facing the hallway. On sight of our group a woman stood up and hurried towards us, stern exspression on her face while her eyes were set on me.

"Its good you're here. Benny is barely holding on! Quickly now.", she adressed the driver and started walking. Struggeling to keep the pace with tied hands I stumbled but caught my footing before falling face first onto the ground. "Jesus, James! Untie here already.", she ordered Mr. Zip-Tie, to undo his work. Suddenly a knife in his hand I felt the pressure and then the losening of plastic ties. Relieved I rubbed my hand and tried to make sense of the situation.

A man named Benny seemed to be fighting for his life, while I was abducted. A person coming out of a hospital, I looked down at myself, realising I forgot to take of my white lab coat and must have looked like a doctor to them. And I would be one in one year and a half if I finished my exams. But right now, I was just a medical student with massive imposter syndrome.

If some mobster was dying in my hands, because I wasn't qualified enough...

I'm so fucked!

And then we walked into - in lack of a better suited word - a military hospital. Multiple beds formed a big U around a center with different equipment. Most of them accomodated men, the sheets soaked in their blood. Some faces pale and full of grime and blood. Eyes starting to swell, knuckles cut open, clothing torn in multiple spots. Those less injured seemed to care for the ones hit harder. Scanning the room, I was surprised to find a handful of women filling the hospital beds as well.

Did this happen because of a gang fight?

Stopping in the middle of the U next to an absolutly premium ultrasonic device I noticed flabbergasted, he appeared.

Seemingly forgetting the emotional turmoil and the situation around me, the world held its breath with me. The man joining our group was everything. My breathing stopped. As did my heartbeat, only to quicken its pace and beat into my throat and leave a quesy feeling in my lower abdomen. Hot waves rolled over my body, while my fingers started to sweat.

His brown eyes focused on me, making me go weak at the knees.

"I assume she's it?", giving me a doubtful once over. Everyone seemed to grunt their confirmation.

"To explain the situation: Our doctor is out of state and his substitute in case of emergency was killed. For now, we need someone to fix our people. You will receive adequate compensation for your services. Please get to work.", the last statement more a demand then a request.

I looked at him, knowing that I would be fucked either way: "I'm not a doctor." His gaze grew terryfing. "Not yet anyways", I shrank into myself and took a step backwards only to bump into Mr James. Always at my back.

"What is that supposed to mean?", he bellowed into the room, rage contorting his sharp cut features., his gaze shifting from me to the others.

Not sure if I should explain myself further, waiting, I looked at the men around me. Being the wrong person to abduct was certainly not my mistake, still I made myself as small as possible, my voice barely audible: "I'm just a medical student. For one and a half more years."

He lowered his face at me likely trying to understand my feebly attempt at explaining the situation.

Then his rage exploded and the next moment I was being grabbed by the collar and smashed into the locked industrial door behind me, my ears rang from the impact. Disorientation and fear made my heart race.

“Fix ’em up!“, his voice snapped at me. “I’m not a doctor. Not yet.“, I answered honestly, looking around the hall.

His mean eyes narrowed, while I tried to loosen his grip on me. “You’ll have to do.“. Considering my very limited options and steadying myself,

“Fine, I will do the best I can. But only if you will let me go without any consequences of what happens !”

My request was followed by silence. Dreading his answer, I held his gaze intendly. Something in his face moved. More a grimace than anything else. Then a grunt followed, as he dropped his rough hands.

Beeing suddenly let go I stumbled and heet of embarresment warmed my face, when I caught my footing. Deciding that his reaction was a sign of agreement, I lifted my hand and chin, “I want your word for it!“, while hoping that he was the kind of man for whom this meant something. That, though a criminal, he lived by some form of honor codex and wouldn’t just get back on his word. If he had anything to say in the matter anyways. But at least it seemed like he held some form of a higher position, by the way the other men I could make out held themselves in the background.

After staring at it, he firmly grabbed my hand and shook it. Me only then noticing the blood his hands were coated in, the traces they had left on me. We had a deal.