Symphony of Lilacs

19. Bring Back the Dead

“Sometimes, I think your entire ward is on anaesthesia.”
While arranging a few patients’ histories, I turn to the doctor sitting in my chair.
“You're more in my office than there.”

Doctor Hopkins yawns and waves a hand.
“Oh, don't worry about me. I am the professor. You, on the other hand, are a medical officer and should get those papers sorted before Doctor Jennings thrashes the door open. He's almost like a mad mouse trapped in teapot when someone's tardy.”

My head shakes, as my fingers touch my own heavy eyelids.
“Tell me again how a mouse gets stuck in a teapot?”

Doctor Hopkins shrugs.
“Ask the mice I massacred last year with my grandsons’ cricket bat. Bloody conflagrators, they were.”
The doctor stretches in the chair.
“At least the grandchildren laughed at it.”

A laugh echoes, surprising me that it's mine.
But it’s only short lived.

“The sins of the fathers shall follow your heirs to the grave.”

A raven rattles from outside, the one with a silver feather.
I pay no heed to it, nor does the doctor.

This time, my feet pivot towards the knocking door. The doctor straightens in my seat.

Instead of a stoic faced doctor with grey hair, a twelve year old boy stands before me.
His head is bent downward, hands clenched through the torn fingers of his gloves.

“Oliver Trevor?” My hand stays on the door knob, staring at the boy.

“May I come in?” A meek voice comes from Oliver, almost unrecognisable to the one I heard a few days ago in the East End.

I step to the side, letting him in.

The boy trudges into the room and looks at Doctor Hopkins.
“'Ello, sir.” Oliver gives a quick bow.

The doctor smiles back, as Oliver turns to me.
“Can I talk to ye?”

Raising a brow, I gesture to the two vacant seats in front of my desk.
Doctor Hopkins glances in between us, as Oliver nods.

We sit down after I pull the chairs to face each other.
Oliver keeps looking at his fists, clenching and unclenching. A few nail marks appear on his flesh, from the little view I get.

“What’s the matter, Oliver?”
My voice remains steady, despite the pounding in my chest.

“Jacob's funeral is three days later. In the local church.” A coldly calm reply comes from him, shredded at the edges.

“What?” My lips part, while Doctor Hopkins stays pointedly silent.

“Mamma’s asked ye to attend. Came here for her message.”
He folds his arms across his chest roughly, as if lashing out on them.

I fall back into my chair, one hand rubbing my temple.
The moments pass by, too slow for any of us to make sense of them.
“I, I’m sorry for what happened. If there’s anything I can do--”

“There isn' anything ye can do.”
Oliver jerks his head up, his glazed and paled blue eyes meeting my own.
“Jacob’s last words shouldn' been, ‘I’m sorry.’
Carol shouldn' be asking, ‘Where's Jacob?’
Miss Sue shouldn’ have cried her eyes dry.
Mamma shouldn’ be locked up, hugging his and Papa’s clothes.
And I...”
Shaking his head, he pulls his chair back and stalks towards the door, leaving me petrified in my seat.

Oliver turns the knob, but stops.
He turns again, eyes reddening.
“I though’ doctors always brought back folks from the dead. I was wrong.”
With a last gust of air, he walks out, the menacingly soft click of the closing door contradicts his words.

His leaving makes me lean forward in my chair-- elbows on my thighs-- as I run a hand through my hair.

“He’s only a boy, Matthew. And the poor thing's lost his… brother, I suppose,” Doctor Hopkins sighs.
“Don’t fret over what he says.”

My eyes shut tightly.
“I know… I should know…”

This was one of the first lessons of training…

“Will you promise?”

Without my noticing, Doctor Hopkins rises from his seat and his pat on my back brings me back to reality.
“Your first patient… passing away is always the hardest.”

I shake my head, as the doctor puts his hands in his pockets.
“Jacob was assigned to another doctor. I only arranged for it to happen.” Another burden buries my shoulders.
“He said a mad dog bit him, but his jolliness…”

Doctor Hopkins grimly nods, muttering rabies.

I continue, “I supposed it would be a mere scratch, after he said he was cured.”

I was right... always right...

“I should never have arisen my hopes,” I sigh.

Calm down, already. Death is inevitable… especially in a hospital...

“You’ll learn, learn one day.”
Doctor Hopkins pulls a smoke pipe out of his pocket. The light demeanor from before vanishes with each spiral of smoke.

The same smoke surrounds me as the doctor treads to the open window.

“I once said doctors are like the messiahs of our times.”

At that, I turn in my seat.

“And sometimes, even messiahs can't bring back the dead.”
The doctor shakes his head, seeming far more old than he has in seven years.
“Though, even I only learnt that when my son and daughter-in-law passed away...”

At that, both mentor and pupil stare out into the window. The papers on my desk beg me to take them to the head of my ward.

A raven watches from the top of a tree outside, the same old one.
The doctor keeps smoking his pipe, ignoring it.

“Life goes on…”

The papers call out to me again and I pick them up, forcing myself out of my seat.

If life goes on, then why is there a raven at my doorstep?

So yeah... that happened...
*hides from the shoe show*

İ swear it was necessary!

... But I'll tell the reason when the afterword is posted(because spoilers).

Oh and ravens are sometimes symbolised for "messengers/omens of death". That's why Matt asks "then why is there a raven at my doorstep".

İs this the last we'll see of our hairy friend? Or the first of many 😏

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my wonderful friend and fellow Vampire Diaries enthusiast alyralaine ❤️❤️❤️

Don't forget to vote! ❤️

Have a great day!
Love,
MS Zame

P. S. Being right doesn't always ensure happiness. Especially for realists.