Sleep is the Cousin of Death
Fiction by Dillon Vincent
Untitled by Koda Christensen
Rain showered down on the city, adding to the gloomy ambience that usually cradled the night. An ambulance rushed past, the sound of sirens wailing through the air as drunkards waddled down the sidewalk. The streetlamps dotted the path with little douses of luminance, revealing a route that cut through the walkways of the different pubs up ahead.
Police cars sped through the dark scene, casting blaring red and blue lights. The dark alleyways were momentarily illuminated, the drivers of such vehicles narrowly missing the glimpse of the woman hiding behind one of the trash cans. Her breath was ragged, her hair damp with the rain. The jagged sensation of the brick wall she rested on poked into her back. The woman’s amber eyes drifted over her hand, her vision blurring for a moment with her racing heartbeat. The dull throb of pain wreaked her body at the sight of the fresh wound. Her leather jacket was crumpled up into a ball, being used to try to stop the stream of blood that was as red as her hair.
She had made a mistake and was now facing the consequences. She had gotten out for now, but wasn’t sure how long it would be before she would find herself back. That is, if she didn’t bite the dust first.
A torn page of lined paper was clutched in her left hand, resting in between the chestnut coloured skin on her palm and the hilt of the knife she held. The writing of the address on the paper had bled with the rain, making it illegible. She could only hope she was at the right address.
Wincing, the woman exhaled, a little cloud of fog presenting itself as she weakly glared at the neon lights positioned above her. The green glow of ‘CLI_IC’ pulsed, presenting itself as the last thing she’d see before she closed her eyes, swallowing the tickling sensation that beckoned her to wheeze. The woman felt herself plunged into darkness, the only radiant force being the pulse of her wound.
***
Blaring white lights shone down from above, with the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the window. The old nurse scurried back and forth throughout the little space, searching for different tools. It was after dark, and it had been some time since the place needed to close. It frustrated him how the city had sunk. He wasn’t sure about whether it was politicians or the community, though both forces were slaves to time.
“Focus,” he hissed, biting his lip. He needed to focus, especially when someone’s life was on the line. He had all the questions in the world, and the unknown answers to all of those questions definitely made the hair on his neck prickle. What if she was just another washed up drug addict? Maybe she got into a bar fight? What if she was trying to mug someone and it went wrong?
The sound of thunder roared outside, jolting him into almost dropping the materials he had gathered. Swearing under his breath, he stumbled back towards the makeshift operating table, looking down at his client. She was young. Too young. This was just a clinic, not a government funded hospital. They didn’t have the proper materials for surgery, let alone the equipment to keep someone afloat.
The rain continued to attack the dark windows outside, providing a rhythm to the room as the man’s eyes travelled over his patient. He grabbed the jacket clutched in her hands, moving it to rest on the chair beside him. Next was the– Wait a minute, was that a knife? This wasn’t expected, this wasn’t part of the plan, this was–
The woman groaned, her mouth tightening. Her eyes were still closed, though the nurse wasn’t too sure how long the case would be. What if she was a murderer? No. This was no time for questions. He shook his head silently, taking a deep breath. He took an oath and had to stay faithful. Furthermore, he’d need to stabilize this person before they could go to the hospital.
Trembling, he reached out a shaky hand to slowly slip the knife out of the woman’s grasp, struggling to unclench her fingers. It took a few seconds before he was able to grasp the blade, and another few to pull it out and set it safely on the counter, out of reach. He didn’t notice the paper falling out of her hand, accidentally stepping on it as he peered over her with a flashlight. It was time to get to action. He got to work, trying his best to reveal the wound before starting to treat it.
***
The throbbing hadn’t stopped, but the pain was still bad. The woman let her tongue press itself against the back of her teeth, trying to repel the metallic taste. She could feel beads of sweat dripping from her forehead, a clammy feeling plaguing her skin. Clenching her jaw, she groggily tried to open her eyes but was blinded by the bright light above. Wait a minute– she was injured. She was hurt and tried to run away. Her eyes focused on the ceiling light above, coating her surroundings in a bright light. She didn’t know where she was. She needed to– the silhouette of a strange figure clouded her vision, looming over her, sparking her into action. Letting out a startled whimper, she shot up, accidentally headbutting the person in the process.
“Gah!” The person echoed, their cry of pain resonating with the agony that shot through the woman. She let out a cry, her hands reaching over to her wound, feeling the texture of a soaked gauze.
“Who are you!?” She managed, gritting her teeth as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Fuck!!”
“I’m a nurse!! You were at the–” the silhouette started, his appearance becoming more clear as the woman’s eyes started to adapt to the light. “I can explain after!! Lie down, please! You’re hurt!”
She tried to struggle, the pain causing her to groan again. She felt a pair of hands press down on the wound, causing another shriek of pain to radiate from within. Struggling to realize that it would get worse to stay up, she failed to win against the older man pushing her down. She lay there, panting as she felt the warm liquid pool up.
“Damn,” the nurse swore, pursing his lips as he focused on applying pressure once more. “I need you to stay still, lady, if you want to live.”
The woman closed her eyes, trying to will the pain to go away. She understood that her predicament was severe, though disorientation still wreaked her body. She was scared, confused, feeling as if she no longer bore the power she once possessed.
“I need you to take slow, deep breaths,” the nurse reassured her. “You’re going to be fine, but I need you to calm down.”
There was a little tremble to his voice, almost as if he was as unsure as his patient. He needed to stay calm, though. Her life was in his hands. If anything happened, it’d be on him. He couldn’t betray his promise, but he couldn’t just let them die without helping.
The woman’s breathing was shallow, though it seemed like it had slowed. She began to inhale, waiting a moment before coughing, suddenly. The nurse checked her pulse, concerned. She continued this, starting to exhale normally, prompting the doctor to let out a sigh of relief.
“I can try to dull the pain for you, but I’ll need your help with something.”
The woman’s eyes fluttered as she weakly turned to face the man, her silence signalling for him to continue speaking.
“I need you to try to continue applying pressure here. I’ll need to step away for a moment to gather everything up.”
“Mhm,” the woman managed, letting him guide her hands to rest on the wound. She pushed down, wincing as she tried to maintain the pressure. There were bandages wrapped around her wound, though it was clear that the blood had started to seep into them as well.
Her amber eyes flicked around the room, trying to get a better sense of her surroundings. There were various drawers, dimly lit lights, and it was still dark outside. A flash of lightning illuminated the window for a second, reflecting off the different medical tools propped up on the walls. She must’ve made it, though something was off. The person treating her wounds didn’t seem like they would fit the tone of her destination. Sure, she was in a clinic, but was she in the right one? She scanned the room, catching a glimpse of her bloodstained jacket on the chair. Her knife. She needed her weapon. If she was found out, it would–
“Here,” the nurse interjected, interrupting her train of thought. He presented a bottle of water, along with a little pill. “This might help the pain, even if it’s by a little. Just keep putting pressure on your wound, I’ll just…”
He trailed off, slipping the pill into her mouth. He held the water bottle to her lips, using a hand to raise her head a little so she wouldn’t drown. Administering the medicine, he waited for her to gulp before setting her back down.
“I don’t really know how long it’ll take for it to kick in,” he mumbled, setting the bottle of water down. “It’ll do for now, though.”
The woman coughed again, her brows furrowed. Helplessness washed over her body, giving her a sense that she was devoid of resistance.
“W-Who are you, exactly?” The nurse stammered, the question flying out of his mouth before he could stop himself. It was safe to say the man’s curiosity had overflown, letting him slip up and ask a question.
The woman closed her eyes, swallowing. She was silent for a few moments, before opening her mouth to croak.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. She paused for a moment, seemingly in thought. “It won’t ever matter anymore if I close my eyes again. I … I need to keep moving.”
The man paused, scratching his chin. He wasn’t sure what to do. He should be at home right now, spending time with his family, but no. Instead, he was here. Tending to a potentially dangerous patient he had found off the street. In the middle of a thunderstorm, even.
“I have to keep moving,” the woman echoed, sounding a little more confident this time. “It isn’t safe here.”
Wincing, she tried to push herself up, letting out a whimper of pain before falling back down. She turned to look at the nurse, her eyes cold and almost devoid of emotion.
“Lady, I… I don’t know if letting you leave is the right call here.”
The two shared a look, the woman pursing her lips.
“There’s a storm out right now, it’s not safe to leave.”
The woman shook her head, sliding off the table. Her legs buckled, and she slipped, abruptly caught by the nurse. Hesitantly accepting the aid, the woman pawed at her knife, grabbing it.
“I’m not letting you go out there alone,” the nurse insisted firmly.
The woman gritted her teeth, her muscles sore. She leaned against the wall as the nurse slipped the jacket, along with an additional blanket, onto her wounded figure.
“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” the woman offered, her eyes drawn to the floor. It wasn’t clear whether she had spoken out of guilt or pain, her tone fluctuating. “I really am.”
“I took an oath,” the nurse managed. “I can’t really help it, whether I want to or not.”
The man opened the door for the both of them, showcasing the extent of the pouring rain outside. The woman drew in a breath, as the both of them stepped out, vanishing into the stormy scene.
Dillon Vincent is a student in Humber Polytechnic's Bachelor of Creative and Professional Writing program. Inspired by super-hero comics and shōnen manga alike, he tries to incorporate the fluid feel of reading those types of works into his own writing. Trying his hand at poetry now and then, his goal is to make a children's book one day. When not writing, he can be found either at a coffee shop waiting in line, or at the library checking the shelves for any new additions.