.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 3. Heart Murmurs.

.Natalia.

I was still rubbing the surgical soap through the space between my fingers, half of my face already fastened with scrub mask and the hat securing my hair, taking in the risks and probabilities of the situation developing.
He needed to make it through, what was this even about?
What could've happened?

"So what's the story on this guy?" Brett's voice was heard above my intense thoughts. I looked at him sideways, already knowing that he was looking every bit like the cute guy I used to have a crush on, but ended up getting dates with my best friend in here.
It wasn't a betrayal, as Lily wasn't aware of my daydream fantasies, but somehow I ended up being stuck like a permanent third wheel, squeezing between them both while enduring lunches and triage.

"There is no story, but we don't really know much." I answered him back, my attention fully spaced out front, where the staff rolled in the patient gurney, everything ready for the surgery, he was still on ventilation and now the anesthesiologist was making his way inside.

"You're awfully quiet today, Nat."

"Just a little worried."

"What about?" He looked at me as if I was completely overreacting, my unfaithful eyes looking back at the OR space of darkness and light. "Him? What for?"

I was biting my tongue to say anything else, instead my shoulder was pushing the door to step inside of the space where he was lying unconscious, people moving around him, as if he wasn't even there.

My heart was beating fast just by taking a second look at him.

It really was him, it really was Harry.

His eyes were closed, his face was really pale but peaceful, and the long tube was taking up most of his mouth, the oxygen duct making him look so frail, so weak that I wished to myself, I was never on this case.
I knew who he was, I had like four songs of 1D on my phone, but this was something that I could've never in my wildest dreams pictured.

"Do you think he is a criminal or something?" Brett asks me while strapping his scrub mask in place. I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but he is as oblivious as I was during the ER happenings.

"No, not a criminal." I respond to him curtly. "A victim."

"I take it you now know who he is?" Dr. Martin was walking slowly towards us, her hands up and careful to not touch anything around her. I nod my head, not having the words to say anything back. "I've just got a call from my boss, filling me in... there is a lot in stake, lying on this table, so I want you all to do your best effort to keep him alive, he is still another patient."

"Who the hell is he?" Brett is glancing at both of us, but the doctor only smiles and motions her head toward the surgical table.

"You're now in this case, both of you, I need you to learn and do your best." We all understand the implications of this, it didn't seem like he was in a major risk, but there was a little.

"Chest incision." She cuts on the surface with the scalpel, her index finger guiding her through his flawless skin, barely missing the area where his tattoos are splayed. Brett helps using the forceps to pull back the skin and clamping down the retractor to hold the incision open.
My eyes were already scanning the chest wall, lung and pleura, and the very tiny space where the visible part of his heart lays. 
The flutter and beat of the muscle was steady, and I stared at it, almost memorizing the movement.

Dr. Martin was working slowly on him, letting me hold some instruments against his injured lung, slowly reciting the medical terms and techniques, asking me questions and making me focus on the task, rather than on him.