The scent of blood and soiled linen lingers in my nostrils, the pain-induced cries seems to course through my very veins.
Just this morning, I was welcomed by cloth-wrapped corpses lined against the wall. How awful the sight was. Blood still seeped from the fabric, and I often doubted half the men lying there were dead. Some bodies were significantly smaller than others, cloth hanging awkwardly from the lack of a limb to fill their place. I gazed upon the merciless stack, wondering who each of them were. Funny how I refer to them as if they were living people.
The well hoursed voice of the general rebounded among the towel divided cots. "Someone!" That simple word had become my name. "Someone" referred to any nurse available, or any of the scattered volunteers that wandered the premisis in search of a private area that would host them well as they vomited out their devastation.
I meandered reluctantly over to the section to which the doctor leaned over the bed of a man with a slinged arm. "Broken bone, slight fever." These were the words he spoke before he made a mad dash to the next victim. The wooded stool by the bedside was already positioned next to the stand, which held on clean rag, and a dish of water. The man laying beside me had dark hair, although I couldn't tell the exact color. He seemed fairly young, maybe two years older than I. That would make him seventeen. His well structured face remained in a tense position, as if he was a child about to be whipped for misbehavior. "Sir?" I stated. His jaw quivered a little, but then he opened his eyes, revealing their seductive shade of emerald green.
There was something in that very moment, something that made my spine tingle in a strange manner. "How are you feeling?" I almost gasped. He grinned the best he could with a cut above his lip. "You see me laying here don't you?" Charming, but I wan't in the mood for cheeky gestures. "I'm going to get rid of your bleeding now."
His smile never faded as I blotted his lip with a doused rag, and still even after I held the same cold rag to his warm forehead. Oh how wonderful it felt to be in the presence of a living person. Later on, I helped him change his shirt, and spoon fed him the water ladden poridge. We chatted among casual topics, and would even sing the verse to a popular song.
It was there in that wretched hospital building, I found love.