Collision

It was 8:32 AM when I walked out of the building sweating, taking a heavy breath as though I had been running. I hadn't been running — I had just come down six flights of stairs. I lived in the top apartment of a five storey building with no lift, so this was always the usual case for me.

I started walking to the public bus station without waiting to get any air back into my lungs. My shift started at 9 AM and I was going to be late if I waited any longer. I was wearing black pants with a white long sleeve top, my hair tied up into a decent bun as usual. I was barely wearing lip gloss since the weather was dry. I hated makeup more than anything — I found it troublesome and frankly I had no time for it anyway. On my feet were the white sneakers I had bought myself as a graduation gift.

I am a medical doctor, as you can see. I had actualized my dream and I was proud of it.

By 8:40 I got to the bus station. There was barely anyone inside the bus as another bus that had just filled up was pulling away with its passengers. I quickly slipped into the coffee shop next to the station to grab a hot coffee as usual. I did this every day when I missed the first bus and had to wait for the next one to fill up.

"Good morning Ma'am," I smiled at the coffee woman.

"Good morning sweetie. You are going to be late today," she smiled, handing me my coffee without even asking what I wanted.

"Thank you Ma'am." I handed her the money which she collected with a warm smile.

I was about to leave the shop when she called out.

"Wait—" she said, and handed me a breakfast bag. "You young people barely eat breakfast in the morning."

"Thank you Ma'am, but you really don't have to—" I started but she cut me off.

"Take it and don't be late for work. I wonder how my granddaughter is doing," she said softly as she walked back into the shop.

"Alright," I said, turning around and leaving. It was already 8:50.

As I walked hurriedly towards the bus that was now half filled, I noticed a large crowd gathering at the corner of the road, murmuring and pointing towards the center. Some faces carried sympathy, others unease. I was not the type to concern myself with other people's business, so I simply walked past.

Quite reasonable, right?

But then I caught fragments of conversation as I moved — *"Was he hit?"* *"Is he dead or just fainted?"* — and I stopped instinctively. As a doctor, I could not walk away from someone who was sick or injured. It simply wasn't in me.

I turned back, pushed through the crowd and stopped dead in my tracks.

A man lay on the ground, his face pale, his body still. He was lying in his own blood.

I rushed to him immediately. He was bleeding from a deep wound on his leg and had clearly lost a significant amount of blood from the profuse bleeding. Aside from that he seemed physically intact. His pulse was faint — most likely from the blood loss. I quickly opened my bag and pulled out my handkerchief and the small first aid kit I always carried. Inside was cotton wool, disinfectant and iodine — not much, but it was what I had. I cleaned the wound carefully, applied the iodine and pressed my handkerchief firmly against the injury to slow the bleeding.

It was the least I could do. But he needed a hospital immediately and calling for emergency services would take too long.

I turned to the crowd and asked for help getting him onto the bus. Some hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks, but eventually a few stepped forward and together we carried him on board.

I sat beside him for the entire journey, watching him closely. At one point I heard a low moan and turned to find his eyes open, looking directly at me. He held my gaze for a long quiet moment before his eyes slid shut again. I called out to him but he had already slipped back into unconsciousness.

We arrived at Riverside General Hospital at 9:30 AM. I had him taken straight to the emergency room, then turned my attention to the patients I was responsible for.

---

By noon I had finished with my patients and given the nurses on shift their full instructions. I had thirty minutes for lunch but I never used that time to eat. Instead I spent it visiting Clara.

Clara was a little girl battling a serious heart condition. Her mother was her only support — a woman who worked several jobs just to keep up with the mounting medical bills, who had begged the doctors to treat her daughter first and trust her to pay later. I had only ever seen that kind of desperation in short films, never in real life. Clara was sick, but she had something most people never did — a mother who would move the whole world for her.

Clara's face lit up the moment I walked into the ward.

"How is her condition?" I asked the doctor who had been examining her.

"She is recovering well. If she gets the surgery she will be fine in no time," he said, slipping his stethoscope around his neck and walking out.

I turned to Clara with a smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"I am great. I don't feel any pain," she said brightly.

"That is wonderful. You have to be a good girl and not get your mum worried. Good things always find good people, alright?"

I smiled as I said it even though I didn't believe a single word of it myself. What a hypocrite, I cursed myself inwardly. If being good was enough, my parents would have loved me. But they hadn't. Not when they each had their own families, their own lives. I had always been the outsider — the unwanted one.

We talked and laughed for a while, Clara asking about university life and everything she considered cool. When it was finally time to leave I squeezed her hand gently.

"Rest and don't strain yourself. I will come see you later, okay?"

"Sure," she answered, her eyes glistening.

I reached out and ran my fingers through her soft blonde hair before turning to her mother and handing her a sealed envelope.

Her mother looked inside and immediately tried to hand it back.

"No," I said quietly. "It is my contribution towards Clara's surgery. I will be sad if you return it."

"Thank you so much, doctor," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Don't mention it. I have work to do," I told her, said my goodbyes to Clara and walked out.

---

I was making my way through the hospital hallway when a nurse came rushing towards me, slightly out of breath.

"What is it?" I asked, surprised.

"Doctor Quinn — the man you brought in this morning has woken up. But he won't let anyone near him. He looks distressed whenever someone tries to touch him and he is asking for you."

I stopped walking.

*Why won't he let the doctors touch him? What on earth is going on with this man?*

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