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In addition, she had to look for a job, to pretend that she was looking for it. Moreover, she had to pretend to live and rejoice that fact. To tell the truth when passion and love settled in heart and soul, the desire for living became almost impossible. Everything that had been done, heard and looked, turned into one continuous suffering.
‘Hi, Vic. Being up long?’ mother’s call was sometimes worse than fire.
‘An hour ago. Eating now. What’s the emergency?’ Vic asked, chewing a miserable cucumber.
‘I’ve forgotten papers on the table. See them? Can I ask you to bring it to me at work? I need them.’
‘Mum…’ Vic sighed.
Vic had planned her day different. She was going to some book stalls near the MRHW. She had no time to rush over hospitals.
‘What mum?’ a severe voice asked. ‘You have no interviews for today. I need those papers.’
‘Fine. Fine! I’m there in an hour and a half.’
‘I’m in resuscitation department. Running the operation room.’
‘Ok, I got it. Order the pass for me.’
‘Already done. I’m waiting.’
Hating the whole world and most of all her mother forgetfulness, Victoria went to the hospital.
Vic hated hospitals and never understood how people could work there. The place was full of pain and desperation. People cried and begged there. A believe in supernatural was born and doctors’ help was forgotten instead. Too much suffering and worries. Her heart hurt too much looking at what was going on there.
Vic was going along the resuscitation department and there were ten or fifteen meters left to get the staffroom, when she heard a weak sound, a voice asking for something unintelligibly.
The girl turned to the open ward and from the first bed something strong got her by the hand. That was an old lady who had a healthy man grasp. Victoria was nervous, trying to free her hand, but the woman was holding it fast. Her whitish eyes, having no life in, pierced into the girl’s face.
‘You will take it. I chose you.’ The crone wheezed in a sepulchral whisper and squeezed her hand stronger, no matter stronger seemed impossible.
‘What’re you talking about? Let me go!’ Victoria was almost fighting with a “weak and ill” old lady.
The crone answered nothing. She lay back on the pillows, closed her eyes, kept on holding the hand.
‘You will take it…’ she repeated again and finally left the numb hand.
The old woman looked peacefully like if she had been sleeping and dreaming of something beautiful.
“Crazy bitch”, Victoria thought and ran out of the ward and made a little distance she turned out in the staffroom.
‘You’re fast’ her mum looked out of the case. ‘Vic, I’m really sorry but I gotta go, I have a planned surgery now. Leave the papers on the table, will you?’
‘No problem.’ The girl sighed in replay.
‘No offence?’ the woman stopped in the doorframe and looked at her daughter. ‘What’s up with you? Are you ill?’
‘No, I’m fine. I’m tired…a little.’
‘Damn it! The most terrible sound for any resuscitationist!’
They both heard an argute sound line, affronting the ear. Olga Vladimirovna jumped out of the staffroom, Victoria followed her.
In the same ward the peacefully sleeping old lady’s heart stopped beating and the apparatus rang about it through the whole department, calling for the doctors to resuscitate.
‘Defibrillator, epinephrine…’ the doctors cries, nurses were rushing near, answering all the orders.
Victoria leaned on the wall, looked and worried about the poor old lady.
‘Time of death is 7 past 7…’ she heard the sentence after that you exactly understood the deepest and, perhaps, the most heartless meaning of the phrase “that’s all”.
The old woman was connected from the apparatus, the data was being written and the doctors were upset.
‘Sveta, call her relatives, they have to call to Pathology lab…’ Vic’s mother ordered to the nurse.
‘Olga Vladimirovna, she had no relatives.’
‘No one?’ The doctor surprised.
‘No one. Then shall I do as usual?’
‘Yes.’ Olga Vladimirovna looked at her daughter, ‘you shouldn’t be here. Go home. I’ll be at home after dinner. Thanks for bringing the papers.’
The girl took a deep sigh, turned around and left. She was a little bit sad because her mother had made a doctor way in life and she still kept on doing it. It was clear, that she did it successfully and by now she gained a reputation of a God-given doctor. The only pity was that when people did their career, they couldn’t do their family at the same time.
Victoria came back home dropped off to sleep…
In the middle of the night, she opened her eyes and with no understanding why, she started whispering something in unknown language.
Ebenus, opprobrium, conticinium, lacrimose, venetum, abominamentum, reflabriventi, basiator, zodium, horripilato, perfluus, flammosus, universus, gloria, tabifluus, damnatio, martyrium, infidelitas, securitas, necrosis.
As she said the last word, the killing silence came. It was too silent so Victoria could hear her blood stream rushing inside. The breeze was blowing, also silent as well as everything was around. The girl was so much scared that her breathing almost stopped. You shouldn’t be a wiseman to understand that something was going wrong. When everything that had moved in chronical way, suddenly got frozen in a paralytic horror was strange at least.
Victoria was in her bed and kept her eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling, with no idea what was going on. She was afraid of even moving.
‘Within two months and a half…’ she heard a heavy man voice, throwing out imperturbable power.
Despite of its heaviness and powerfulness the voice was hypnotically attractive and so pleasant as if it had touched a back with silky flaps. One could listen to that voice for hours, could fall in love with it and lose mind. But Victoria, on top of every sweet feeling, had an animal fear: the voice had nothing to do with Kharon.