Here I Stand (BWWM) (AMBW) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 69: Blood stained hands and salty tearsdrops

Trigger warning- the following contents and/ or topic may be unsettling and upsetting for some

Rajiv's pov

"Hurry up, kids your aunt is waiting" I reminded them running around the house making sure the kids' sleepover bags had everything, "Uffa! Ho capito, adessi mi brigo"- ho capito adesso mi sbrigo, (understood, I'm going to hurry), replied Ezra scrunching his face to a pouting face.

I found myself erratically running up and down the house to make sure they had everything, "Relax, they're not going abroad" advised Isa, "I know... It's just this the longest we will be apart" I sighed feeling already nostalgic of the mess around the house, Adaline's eloquent speeches and Ezra's attitude.

They were going away for three straight days, and for some weird reason I was having a hard time to process their soon to be absence, "Call us whenever you want with your watches, and never remove them okay?" Isa reminded them "Yes, mommy we know" Adaline rolled her eyes, "I know you guys know, you are so smart. Let us pray" I bowed my head, as we held hands, and spoke the Word over them.

"Come here" Isa grabbed Ezra who was eager to leave, and violently kissed his cheeks, something to which he couldn't resist as he giggled, not even trying to stop her, "To voglio bene" (I love you) Ezra said hugging Isa to him, "Anch'io" (me too)  Addy butted in, in the midst of the embrace, Isa turned to face me "Get in here" she mouthed, scolding me.

I wanted to be part of it, anything really as long as it involved Isa, even tough I was raised in a pretty big family I always felt lonely,  and Isa had this charm that I ought to admit that was one of the ultimate reasons I fell for her, she made me feel part of it, whether it was a crime, depressing state, healing, emotional break down she was willing to share it all and see me through or see me, see her through.

Later at the hospital

When people ask me about it, I say "It was a sunny day" - both for tragedy and triumph, usually not together except for that specific day.

That day tragedy and the sole concept of it overpassed our expectations by far. When they ask me about it, I laugh sadistically thinking that someone somewhere must have thought it an adequate day to carry out a massacre.

Though I am not one to compare experiences, I for a fraction of second, among screams, and sirens and pools of blood and full alleys, I wished to be in war zone, for the strong craving to feel safe outside such areas.

"Dr. Prasad, Dr. Kelly and Houston; you are with me" the chief of Ed (emergency department) informed us, and threw a pair of gloves and a surgical gown.

"I'm yet to be declared fit to operate again" I reminded her, "I know but we are going to be full soon, we need all hands on deck" she hustled around, "Got it".

As I made my way to the supplies' room, I kept seeing nurses and doctors transferring and discharging non priority patients, I got some sutures kits gauzes, gloves, and other stuff.

Isa's pov

It wasn't like the scenes of action movies where everything is felt and seen, no...
It was like a blackout, except that you seem the only one to have experienced it.

Everything around you moves erratically, buzzes, goes off; in the middle then of course there is you. You barely manage to keep your breath under control, your eyes are captivated by the overwhelming amounts of stuff happening around you, and your ears also fail to cut out the sound.

Your limbs become rooted trees that no matter the effort, don't move an inch; then someone in close vicinity, that you may as well not have noticed, call your name, they grab you by the arms and since that alone is not enough, you manage to rip a sentence from their lips.

It says "Are you alright?" as if the floor had not been drenched in blood, and our coats mapped in it, and the screaming of people would easily subside.

And your head: your survival instinct shouts at you one last sentence before being overrun, "Run away" and you want to but the bodies, the cries, the chaos, limp your steps and any attempt of escape, so you stay...

My name is Isa Thompson, born in Italy, raised in Canada, briefly France and settled in America, and never in my life I had encountered such a absurdly debated thematic such as the one fought in favour of guns.

Yes, we have mafia in Italy, which pretty much used to do whatever it wanted, before going broke, as Italy fell in a deep crisis, but still...
Never not even in our most difficult or perillous times we could have reasoned that a man, let it be mentally  stable or unstable had the right to own a gun let alone be sold one.

"Dr. Thompson!" someone shouted, as I kept pressing a bullet wound that was profusely bleeding in a boy abdomen,  blood painted gloves covering my hands were now redder, gauzes after gauzes there was no stopping the bleeding without operating, it required to be located stopped and stiched closed, for all of that I needed  a operating room,which were all being used at max capacity (two operating teams at once).

Suddenly all of that blood seemed to be enough for me to drown in it.

"Get me my bag from the changing room!" "What?" "Here put pressure, I will be right back" I said placing a year one resident's hand on the wound, I removed my gloves, and ran for my bag.

Inside a sample of a new product called Xstat, a syringe that injects tiny sponges into a bullet wound to completely seal it off and stop bleeding within 15 seconds, or so the experts said.

I grabbed it and ran towards the young boy who had now lost consciousness, I applied it in his wound and his bleeding exponentially decreased, stopped....

There was no slowing down, between talking to family members, announcing deaths, emergency surgeries, the frantic and desperate search for blood supplies, calling other hospitals for help, everything made me sick to my stomach.

In midst of that chaos, we were still doctors, before everything else, as whenever our emotions took over our lucidity and ability to reason, the patient could have been put  in danger.

In moments as such, when you're asked to be or act composed, a pen falling, a low battery phone even  a broken nail,  is able to shatter you, and you allow it pleased to have the chance to do so,  as you ached to let yourself go.

Sitting on the cold floor of the supplies' room, I caught my breath, it was 8 pm, I called the kids, and told Lexi I was going to pick them up in a hour or so.

Rajiv came in front of me extending his arms towards me, it was shaking frantically, he couldn't stop it, so I grabbed it, as  held him in my arms. His voice now faded and rocky, failed to express what he was feeling.

And both of us knew right then, it was time to leave, just like fugitives that attempt escaping a war, they decide in that moment, that death would have been batter that staying.

Me, personally, I chose to go home.
I chose to go back to my home country: Italy.