Unlimited - стр. 48

In the mornings Vic had to pretend to be a healthy, sane person. Her mother was prudish and if she noticed that her daughter wasn’t sure in her own mental health, she would treat her.

Of course, at times when her mum was at work, Vic was sound asleep, setting up, but it wasn’t enough anyway.

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!’