The Innocent Life of Valerie Vale

Hurt

Hurt

Alistair Finch waited alone. Monroe Medical Centre was a lonely place to sit and wait - it was a horrible place to die. The floor was polished white. The walls were stark and bare. The room smelled of bleach. There was tension in the air.

Why here? Why did it have to be here? Lanton Central Hospital, that was near his office. Open to the public – at least it cut out hassle. The Kingston Centre was by his home. That was a place of privilege, of luxury and wealth. Kingston – the better part of Lanton, north of the Hellstone Bridge.

To the north, past Fontana Bay was home to Lanton’s rich. Why not there? There he’d be in comfort. What was the point of money, if the best doctors, the best cancer treatment that he could find was in a place he hated? Monroe was out of the way, in the south of the city. He hated his trips to this horrible place – he despised them with a fury. What choice, what option did he have? That was what he hated most – the powerlessness, the fact that it was beyond control just like this disease.

‘Mr. Finch,’ welcomed a man, walking into the room. Dr. Keats was Lanton’s best, a specialist of cancer. He was well seasoned and ran an expert practice. He had Finch’s utter trust, he’d earned it over time. ‘It’s not good news I’m afraid... but then you didn’t think it would be.’

‘No,’ Finch said, his mouth was hot and dry, ‘no... I didn’t think so at all.’ Finch swallowed hard. He tried to keep it together. He tried to give off strength. ‘How much longer do I have?’

Dr. Keats examined the chart. There was no need to check the results, both men knew already. ‘Until morning, I would think...’ He said the words with pity. ‘I wish there was more... something I could do.’

Finch cleared his throat. ‘One last sunrise,’ he said at last, pausing again, rubbing his legs in desolation. ‘Thank you doctor... you’ve done all you could for me, it’s in my hands now.’ The doctor lowered his head and left Finch to himself. Alistair took a breath and stood up to his feet. With that, he moved into the other room, fighting back his tears.

A woman lay on the hospital bed, she was weak and tired. Finch sat down beside her. He took her hand and held it. She was cold and frail. The touch of human warmth pulled her back awake. She opened her eyes and turned to him with a look of understanding.

‘Hello love,’ he said. His voice was full of warmth. How vibrant she had been before, before the cancer struck. The energy that she once had, the illness since had took. Martha – his wife, his soul, his confidant. His muse, his love, his purpose. How terrible it was to see what fate had done to her. How awful it was to watch – as the cancer slowly took her.

‘You look sad,’ she said, slowly through her mouth. Alistair’s touch was a comfort. She knew that she would die. Now, all she could do was ease his pain and pray for his salvation.

‘I am sad,’ he replied, looking down upon her. Finch squeezed her hand, gently in his own.

‘Don’t be,’ Martha said, ‘I’ve lived a long and happy life.’ Her voice was soft and sympathetic. She knew he hurt inside.

‘When I married you,’ Finch said, clearing his throat again, ‘I promised to always love you.’ Now he felt a duty, a purpose of matrimony. ‘I promised,’ he continued, ‘to always protect you, no matter what.’

‘And you have my love,’ Martha said in truth. She could see the pain, written on his face. His pain – a symbol of their undying love, a message of his commitment. ‘You’ve always been there for me... you’ve loved me every day and I’ve cherished our time together.’ Martha coughed. Words were getting harder to say but she was in no pain.

‘I’m not ready to let go yet,’ Finch declared. He remembered the vow he made – until death did them part. Who was death to take her now? He refused to let it happen. ‘There are ways,’ he said with pure belief, ‘things that we can do!’

‘Always a dreamer,’ Martha said, smiling now with love. ‘It’s what I’ve always loved about you... the way you see the world... the hope you have for life.’

‘Fight it Martha!’ Finch was resolute. He wouldn’t let this happen to her – he couldn’t let it take her. ‘There’s still time,’ he said with hope, ‘my people are working on it!’

‘I’m tired Alistair,’ Martha said, closing her eyes to sleep. ‘I need to get some rest.’

Finch swallowed hard again. He closed his eyes in hope as a tear dripped down his face. ‘Sleep softly my love,’ he finally said, ‘I’m here now... I’m staying by your side.’

Suddenly Finch’s phone rang out into the room. He took it from his pocket and quickly answered the call. ‘Speak,’ he said without emotion.

‘We have a situation,’ came the voice of Jeffrey James. ‘The girl, she’s escaped... we’ve the entire place in lockdown.’

‘Not tonight,’ ordered Finch. ‘Get everyone back at once... the serum is nearly ready, I want it done tonight.’

‘I spoke to Azakura,’ Jeffrey replied, ‘he said it can be done, but the security there is thin. We need to take precautions.’

‘Very well,’ Finch agreed, ‘talk to Caine and call him in, we’ll use his men tonight.’ With that, Finch hung up the phone. He turned around to face his wife but Martha was fast asleep.

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