Vendetta

1. Cardiologist on the Run

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."— Fyodor Dostoevsky

I'd have been a bureaucrat if not for my license to slit open hearts; when necessary of course. Stacks of paper lay dishevelled on the desk, a dreary air sufficed the scene.

Have been exhorting people against caffeine consumption since forever, yet here I am, drinking Irish Coffee like water. It kept me from reaching hysterical pitch of a nervous outbreak, although that was not entirely true.

For me difficulty lied in acclimatizing to convictions upon which I had been imposed and recrudescence that followed.

I continued doing my work while glancing outside the glass mirror whenever felt low on impetus.

The sky held a dingy atmosphere, strongly evincing squall lines; not so far away. Heavy rain poured down and moisture encroached glass windows, gulping the view into obscurity.

Everything sensed wrong today and my intuitions stood on irrefutable grounds.
Nevertheless, whatever I felt held near to insignificance.

My father Dr. Rieux Krüger, a notable proprietor of the hospital held an austere disposition ad infinitum, perhaps owing majorly to his circumstance.

It was impossible to say that there stood even the slightest chance where he reflected any positive outlook towards my effort. Although most of them were abstract speculations, they brought about a great strain on my endurance.

His prime concern hovered over the inheritance of his assets by someone who met qualifications above the prerequisites.

I have no doubt whatsoever that he hardly acknowledged my efforts to be any good.

On the contrary, Inheritance was of least importance to me, i believed it would only look funny to cogitate highly of social strata when being entrusted with lives of multitude, that wanted not more than bare minimum of a peaceful existence.

Not a particularly famous ideology considering how it contradicts popular perception.

He was no longer here anymore, yet his
sardonic remarks stayed with me. A sly glance at the sky and i could already picture him mocking me for even trying to put on a valorous show.The old man never ran out of a higher tinge of humour despite his rigid persona.

If it were up to me i'd dismiss all impending paperwork without an afterthought and read The Trial to worship Kafka's everlasting reproach towards bureaucracy.

I wanted to make my way home as early as possible, so I did the useless stack of papers in god speed.

While reaching the door of my office room that directly led to the main corridor, a pair of strange looking formal black shoes stood distinctly visible from underneath the door.

Personnels were prohibited from entering this floor until asked for.

If he were a burglar, he would only leave with stacks of medical reports.

A click on the door knob, my instincts were alarmed. I moved beside the door instantly with my back pressed on the wall and my breath, breathless. I had to make sure that I was out of  sight when the man made an entry. Even if it's only momentary, I could use it to my advantage.

When the time was right, i seized him from behind and held a tipped scalpel blade edged close to his neck.

Goddamn.

"Move an inch and the blade welcomes your jugulars,"

An indisputable smirk plastered his face.