Dr. Vada Thorn Amadeus. Doctorate in medicine.
I was drafted straight after my graduation of earning my Doctorate to that barren place of Chesterside Hill where I returned to my home of Nona about fourteen months later. I had seen broken bodies, bloodied corpses, and the pale eyes of the dead countless numbers of times. I had to heave the dead or the dying from the battlefield while gunfire and shouting whizzed through the bitter air. I dragged them off to the Infirmary, a large brown tent where the wounded and the incapacitated would go to be patched, and I spent days upon days with them until they were either fit to fight, kept in the infirmary till we were sent home, or left to die while they rotted and decayed. It always broke my heart whenever I saw my family-in-arms go to pass onto the grave like I had lost someone very dear to me in a tragic accident. Nevertheless, I still had to press on to insure the better health of breathing soldiers. Though, I could sense that some of the men gawking at me and fantasize about a sexualized nurse. I was not that. I was far from that. I was a war doctor patching up broken soldiers. Of course, I was not the only doctor working, but I did my contribution to a greater degree.
Around the final days of Chesterside, I found a woman lying unconsciously in a ditch with her shoulder and back gashed, and her cheek sliced. I immediately pulled her from the mud and dragged her by myself back to the Infirmary. Her wounds were clogged with infectious and mud, so I cleaned them as best I can to prevent any infection. I would say I did an excellent job, but I do not wish to be too prideful. After the washing I stitched her wounds straight up which took me over an hour. I was very precise.
For the majority of a week she remained in her deep unwanted sleep. On the Tuesday, 5:06 PM she had awoken in surprise. She looked around with such intensity in her eyes that flickered like a bright candle at our fellow soldiers then she collapsed back on her bed. She looked right up at me, and she exchanged a short thank you towards me. I wanted to remain silent to keep ease for the wounded, so I simply nodded; but then I was concerned if this patient needed anything.
“Do you need anything?” I asked softly. “Food, water?”
She stirred in her bed, “A book,” she simply mumbled. “The Butterfly’s Eclipse, if you have it.”
It was not a book that I was all too familiar with but I think my eyes glanced at it a few times when I was late night reading one of the books that we kept from our ever so small collection.
I complied with her request and I left the room in search of this book. I found it with a simple glance on the small desk table tucked in the corner where the doctors, like myself, could go to contemplate what their next cause of action was, or do what little alleviation we could attempt so our minds would not overstress. One of the doctors, Dr. Berlinger, immerse himself in his own realms of fantasy where he said he would be gone for many a day when in truth he sat there for only an hour or two. I hastily grabbed the black covered book and I returned back to the woman. I handed it to her and she thanked me. She opened the book and she instantly began to read it.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked.
She simply nodded her head; and so I left her to her own devices. Though, I kept my eye on her to keep sure that she would be alright so I did not stray too far from the room.
I felt something strange with her like she was a person I was intertwined with in fate. I had a strange feeling that the infirmary would not be the last instant we would see each other. Indeed she was a very quiet soul, only seeming to read or to sleep what little she could.
Although, it pained me to see how she wailed in terror in awakening an hour after she would fall asleep. Each time she did that I always did my best to calm her down, by the stroke of her hand and the soft shushing like a caring mother, and I would just look at her so pitifully. In the first few days this happened five times.
It also scared me how she did not eat a morsel or drink anything for the first three days; but, luckily, on the fourth she began to eat, though only in small portions. She ate only a tenth of a loaf of bread throughout the day and half a glass of water. I had to aid her in her consuming, and I dare say I had to clean her up from water and crumbs that would spill on her. Whenever I did clean her up I would look at her in great detail, especially around her eyes. Those dark blue eyes that had seen so much. I feel like there was a whole world behind those eyes just waiting to be shown to the world. A whole world of teeming ideas and thoughts. I do not know why but I was deeply drawn to those dark blues. Of course, whenever she would see my eyes I would have to turn away my glance. I did not want her to question my study. I only stayed within the surface optical region. I did not delve deeper than my eyes in my studies.
After she would absorb herself in her literature or she fell asleep I sat across from her and I conducted a few notes about her. Except for the first time she fell asleep, for which I looked at her dog tags.
The Dog Tags:
D’ALTON
SHADOW
453-13-236
A NEG
My notes:
- Shadow D’alton
- Introverted; prefers the company of herself than others
- Book worm
- Favorite Book Butterfly’s Eclipse
- Drafted (Does not seem like the person to glorify in war)
- Abnormal Genes (Dark blue eyes, Ginger hair)
- Relatively Young (Looks 28)
- Unwedded (Most Likely No Relationship)
- Healthy Condition (Very Fit)
- Above Average Intelligence
- PTSD
Though I did not have a lot of information about Shadow my curiosity still urged me to delve deeper. I wanted to have a greater comprehension of this woman. I spend the remaining amount of time in Chesterside by her side, not even ten feet away from her. I was always just across from her. The other doctors were fine if I looked after her; they went about like clockwork with the other patients, though I do not know if Shadow was aware of their presence because she made no apparent reaction whenever the other doctors were around, however, I saw how she took short glances at me to either make sure I was still within area.
On the seventh day after her awakening we were evicted from Chesterside and we made our way back by truck where we were packed like helpless sardines. I sat beside Shadow to insure she would be alright during the ride. There were about thirty individuals, being inclusive of Shadow and myself, crammed in one of the boxed truck. There were about five trucks in total, crammed with more than two dozen people in each. We went off at 1:26PM. The roads were bumpy and coarse throughout the whole way.
We were not fastened down to the truck so we bounced around as we all clutched to the seats in our waking hours. We all got barely any sleep over the five day trek that took us from Chesterside to Nona. Shadow got the most sleep out of everybody, getting about, from what I remember, twelve hours of sleep.
Once she woke up from her slumber she awoke with such a fright and it nearly made me jump in my seat from the surprise that she instigated. I asked her if she was okay, but she did not respond to me. There was a darkness that seeped through her sapphire eyes. I suspect that she had seen something psychological disturbing, and I deeply wished I could aid her on such things.
Once we had gotten to Nona, which was at 2:50PM, we were immediately sent to Ludwig’s Hall where we were awarded for our brave efforts and our will to fight in the face of death that we had managed to pull of for more than a year. I was awarded The Rose Heart - an insignia that showed how I accomplished great medical feats through gunfire and hell - and The Royal Cross for my services and time in Chesterside. Shadow was pinned The Royal Cross and The Scarlet Heart for her battle injuries. About one-hundred and fifty men and women were all awarded their insignias and they all stood tall and proud like valourous lions. We saluted then we were dismissed to an after party to congratulate us for our tremendously brave efforts.
Shadow was the first one to leave the gathering. She strided from the great hall of people. I tailed her to ensure she would not try anything reckless for the hall was by the side of the Holly River which led into the Whisper Bay, which of course led out seaward.
Shadow strided through a great white door where she ventured out onto the docks of the Hall that gazed out at the shining river.
It had seemed like an eternity since I had seen such a majestic sight. I only had seen the broken, the bloody, and barren land. The Works district was high and might in the background and the skies had been pulled over with a sheet of ashen grey. The production of smog and smoke was heavy from the smokestacks of industry and the distant people went about with their lives.
Shadow stood at the railing of the docks where she leered out at the river and she had something clutched in her hand. She glared down into her hand then back towards the river. Subsequently, she heaved the objects in her hands, which gleamed and glittered as shone ever so high. She then let out a scream of anger that rippled through the air with such ferocity that made me spring from a heap of shock and a squeak jumped from my mouth.
She instantaneously glared back at me. Her look was at first enraged; her eyes had a fiery tone to them like an intense flame that burned ever so brightly; but when she came to realize that it was myself her face began to loosen and started to calm. I swear I even caught a glimpse of the faintest smile twitch across her face.
“Dr. Amadeus,” said she, surprised. “Why are you not with the other veterans?”
This was the first question she had asked me since we had met. It was strange to be the one to answer instead of question for I had many questions about her.
“I saw you dash out of the hall,” said I. “Why are you out here by yourself?”
Shadow did not answer, instead she turned back to the gleaming river and she positioned herself against the railing. “I do not want to say,” said she, solemnly.
I advanced closer to her, standing right beside her at the edge of the dock. I looked right at her dark blues. They looked so sad. They started to become red and weepy; I could tell she was fighting back tears. She did not want to seem weak in front of me, I thought. She sniffed and she rubbed her eyes, still looking out at the cityline of the Works and the river laid in front of it. I had no idea what was going on inside her head; nevertheless, I still felt sorry for her on a grand scale.
“Why don’t you want to say?” I asked, softly. “I saw you tossing something into the river.”
She glanced back at me in shock, then she looked back at the river.
“I… I thought no one was looking,” she stammered. She gave out a discorded sigh. “I… I threw my medals... and my dog tags away.”
I was shocked by her statement. Why would she commit such an act? If anyone had seen her she would have been detested, perhaps arrested; but I did not tell anyone else.
“Why would you--”
“Because I do not want a reminder!” she startlingly interrupted. “I do not want a reminder of the year I had been swept into by the goddamned Council! That godforsaken war had brought me nothing but mental and physical scars! To hell with them and to hell with this place!”
I had never suspected her to ever say to harshly-toned words against the Council - the leadership of Dwelvan Empire. I felt a great sense of pity towards her and I only wanted her to have peace, nothing else. For myself, on the other hand, did not feel a hatred towards the Council for I had done my duty for my country. I now do not think that Shadow had the same patriarchy to her homeland in comparison to myself. Nevertheless, I was frightful if her detest was affected by her conditioned PTSD. In complete truth, I had a great fear that her PTSD would be too much. I was afraid she would attempt her own life from such screeching madness.
I did not know what to come back with at Shadow’s inflamed comment, I had to calculate for several moments. As I calculated I looked at her woefully, but she did not look at me, she only looked riverwards. Once I was finished my reckoning I had a series of questions lodged in my head, though there were only a few I had asked.
“Do you live with anyone?” I asked.
She scoffed, then a quirk of a smile inched on her face. “I frankly do not,” said she, “ I live my myself and only myself.” She turned towards me as confusion shifted on her face, “Why does the doctor care?”
“I care about you,” I responded, swiftly. “I’ve seen you scarred and injured, and I’ve seen you wake from hellish terrors. I’ve seen men and women die on bedspreads and away from gunfire and bullets; but you have fought with these men and women and they die by your side. You’ve almost died yourself. I had to drag your body to the Infirmary.”
Shadow then glanced at me quizzically. “You were the one who brought me back to the Infirmary?” she asked.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Interesting,” she laughed like this was the first time she had done so in over a millenia. “You were the doctor who saved my life. You dragged me from dirt and muck, you sealed my wounds against infection, you gave me The Butterfly’s Eclipse, you helped me eat, you helped me drink, and the strangest thing of all you were always there whenever I had awoken from those ghastly night terrors.” Tears started to stream from her eyes like the river. “Forgive me if I had not thanked you sooner,” she sniffed and laughed, wiping the tears with her long, slender hand. She looked up at the ashen sky as if she was remembering something, then she gazed back towards me with a small smile on her face. “Dr. Amadeus, I am truly grateful for your services. I had never met a doctor who seemed so persistent and sympathetic.” Her eyes began more watery, so I immediately step forth towards her, and I took her hand, beginning to stroke it softly as I did in the infirmary. I said no words, I only looked up into her. She looked back at me with those misty eyes.
“Doctor, I have a confession,” said she shakily after my minutes of soothing.
I was surprised to suddenly hear her say such words. I was fearful of what she was about to deploy onto me.
“What is it?” I asked.
She stood back from me, and she took several deep breaths as if she was going to grant me such terrible knowledge that was weighed deeply on her consciousness. I gave her the time she needed before she began to say her confession.
“I had night terror on the way back,” she started. Then, in detail she began to describe a series of events that she judged to be real, but in reality they were formed in her subconscious. She told me how she dreamed us coming back to Nona, being granted our medals, and her returning to her home - a small apartment, she described, 757C Oxford Street. She told me how she only read for the first week she had conceived her return, but slowly how her body, and soon mind began to degenerate itself. How she had lost a consider about of weight, how she crept into a depression, and thought of suicide each passing minute. These descriptions began to pain my heart, but I still lent an ear to my once fellow soldier. Then, she told me how she fell into a world of murk and shadow, and saw sixteen faceless brides, and one of them was herself. She turned into one of the brides then she woke up from that conceivement of reality.
At the end of her story she collapsed to her knees and began to sob within her own lengthy, slender hands. I took a knee beside her and I committed the same comfort I had donated her prior. I had managed to calm her down after three and a half minutes.
I knew that I could not leave this woman alone in her own flat where she had dreamed of her demise with such realistic feelings to it. I could not leave my patient to her own devices. So, with a shot in the dark I asked, I asked her a question that would change my life forever for the better or the worse, that left me in both sickness and health.
“Shadow,” I started.
She looked up at me with weepy eyes and a red face that seemed in question. “Yes?” she asked.
“Can I come live in with you?” I requested. “To insure you will be alright.”
She looked rather surprised, and she chuckled at the notion. “Seriously? Do you not have a place to call your own? Will you be alright with me as a flatmate?”
“I do, well, I did, though not one I could call my own. During my doctorate I lived with a friend, and I told her that after my doctorate I would try to find a place of my own, though, this was before I knew I would be sent off to the battlefields as medical support. I had always lived better with people rather than just myself, and after the events you had told me of your night terror on the truck I can’t just leave you by yourself. I promise you I won’t be any trouble to you, I’ll just be there to make you’ll recover! I’ll be gone most of the day to the Saint Joseph's Hospital where I will resume my work, I will only be there mornings, nights, and the ends of weeks.”
Shadow gave a rather dry chuckle, and she paused, for a moment or so. “Very well,” she said, “I can see your point, doctor. A master cannot leave their dog to stray till the dog is properly trained to obey without word,” she stood back up onto her feet where the impression of a smile was in place. I thought she seemed offended by my statement. “I jest, of course. That is one detail you must know about me: I jest to a fantastic degree.” I was glad to see her joke. “Shall we leave this establishment as soon as possible?”
“Oh, if you insist,” said I. “Do you not want to see the others before--”
“No,” she bluntly interrupted. “I do not wish to see them anymore. If you want to stay and socialize with the new veterans then be more than my guest. I will hail a cab and venture forth back to my-- I mean, our home on Oxford Street. If you are going to stay then I shall make preparations for your stay.”
I did not want Shadow to travel back to her apartment by herself. Though I might have stayed only a short hour, or possibly less, I insisted I went with my new roommate. She was compliant, so we ventured forth from the Hall, and we hailed a cab. We received many strange looks since we were still in our military attire; though I was not sure if Shadow cared because she never looked back at anyone else. She simply kept her head forth as we went to the cab.
The journey from Ludwig to my new home was a complex stretch, the streets were all but a blur to me, though I do remember seeing two of the signs: Maitland Street and Ridout Street. They strangely stood out to me to me above all other streets. The interior of the cab was a dead silence. Shadow did not say a single word, she only gazed out at the city laid around us and its merged streets that seemed to pass us like sand through fingers. I was curious of what Shadow was thinking. Nevertheless, I did not wish to interrupt my new companion; but she did as a single question:
“What is your name? Your first name?”
I immediately turned towards her. “Vada,” I responded. I was ashamed I had not told her my name sooner, but a doctor does not give their name to their patient for patients and doctors do not become friends. Dr. Amadeus is my title among the medical world and the world of the unknown. At the time it seemed like a reasonable thing to tell but giving it some thought in a different look it seemed like the strangest thing I have ever done. In turn, it would become the sanest thing in my career with Shadow that has yet to be told.
Once we got to the apartment we paid the cab, and I gazed around at the sleepy street of Oxford. It seemed quite peaceful as if the world of industry and work had fallen completely asleep on this place. I dare say this was the quietest street I had ever had the fortune of being on.
We walked to the two-story, red brick building that was numbered 757 - my new home. The top one on the right was the only one that was dirty, besides the other three that were clean as a whistle. I noticed to the side of it a small sweet shop, and the mere thought of food seemed to make my mouth slightly salivate and my stomach softly grumble.
Shadow led me into the apartment, up to the second floor. She unlocked the door of apartment C and we entered through the olive green door. What I had seen before my eyes once I had entered was a small apartment that had dust that glided in the evening godrays. I took moments to take in the atmosphere that was presented before me. Shadow seemed to look at her own old apartment in great detail, she seemed to have a nostalgic vibe that emanated around her.
“This is a nice place,” said I.
“Hm?” she looked at me as if she was out of reality. I think she was deep within herself when she looked around at her apartment. “Sorry? I was… slightly…” she continued to inspect around at the clutter of her apartment - opening cupboards, looking through shelves and the fireplace that was set in front. I swear that my new companion was in search for something as if it was lost.
I looked at her puzzlingly. “Are you looking for something?”
“Um,” she stepped around the apartment with a wondrous gaze that twinkled in her dark blue eyes. “No, I do not think so. I was just… remembering this place like an old story from a distant childhood.” She stopped and looked straight at me with thoughtful eyes. “I hope this place is to your liking, doctor.” She smiled and placed her hands together as if to pray. She sat down into the left leather chair where she instantly sank into it and a gave a murmur of relaxation. “I must inform you I practice acoustic guitar - my family has quite the musical background and my parents insisted I kept the tradition. I will try to keep a minimum to the noise. I also write and if I am not mistaken my drafts of literature are scattered on my desktop; feel free if you wish to gaze at them if you are ever so curious, though I am doubtful I will ever finish them and they will most likely never see the light of day.
“Also, please do not try to remove the orange stain: it is a momentous of a whimsical night I had with my friend, Marcus Holmes, and I would be heartbroken if it was perished by soap and bucket. And please forgive the miniscule bathroom for its size. Now! What about your personal items? Shall we commandeer them back to here? Where are they? Perhaps we shall venture for in retrieving them tomorrow?” She gave a grand yawn.
I was overthrown by this flood of information, it took me many moments to process and retain most of the information. I was surprised that she gave me such knowledge for only knowing a week and a bit, even if I was her doctor and now caretaker-roommate. I was also startled that she wrote and played the guitar, which I would have never guessed from a woman like herself. The orange stain seemed a tad odd to me and there was a flicker of curiosity within myself about said stain. As for my items, I was not concerned with them at that moment and I vaguely remember having them at my friend’s house.
“We’ll not worry about them,” said I, earnestly. “They are just things and if I can’t get them back I can buy new things. What matters now is--”
“Doctor,” she interrupted, holding up a hand in a sign to stop. “You should at least have your clothes and your personal objects. I will go with you to acquire them, if that will ease your way. Save your money for a momentous occasion.”
“Shadow,” said I. “Once my job back at Saint Joseph's is up and running then I will have a fair share of money coming in. Plus, we will be getting our army pension for our services.”
Her face shifted to something of a strain as if she had a dark secret to tell. Her eyes grew dark as if the happiness in them simply faded away. “Doctor, I will not be accepting said pension for the horrors and the catastrophes we had accomplished. Even if they point a gun at my head I will still not be supplied with their blood-money.”
I could not believe my companion. She needed the money to uphold her ways of living in the apartment. I was doubtful that she would find work as soon as possible. I was furious with her and I was tempted to slap her across her face; but my rage was just instantaneous from those wasted words, and I dare not slap my patient across its face, no matter how preposterous their words are.
“Shadow, you need the money for your apartment, for you food, for your health. Can you think of--”
“Fret not, doctor. I will find myself work quickly, or work will find me. I am a jack-of-many-trades, or so I have been told. I can compose literature; I can weld; I can wire; if I place my mind towards it I can observe the tiniest and most fine details, which can help me see abnormalities which seem bare to the naked eye. My memory is visual and I can see events that have transpired if you merely speak them. I have a satisfactory understanding in chemistry, physics, and math. Though I seek further improvement of my mind. Learning is my most favored trait of all. Given time, I could learn every fact under the sun. I dare say I can find work with relative ease.”
I was bedazzled by her feats that she had mentioned. How someone accomplished these traits in such a short amount of time is well above myself. Over my thirty-three years of living my most notable accomplishment is earning my doctorate in medicine. I also had a deep understanding in the culinary arts, and I produce brilliant works in charcoal.
“How in the Bedeviled did you accomplish all of that? How old are you?”
“I am thirty-one, doctor. How I accomplish said undertakings? Well, I set my mind towards learning. Relationships, such as marriage, and boyfriends and girlfriends, do not peek my interest and I am afraid they will get in my way. I, however, have nothing against them myself, I just do not see the possibility of myself being in one. Though, in fairness, I used to go out to pubs and bars where I would sit and imbibe, and observe the world that would be laid in front of me, and spend time with friends, of course. My friends and colleagues help me with a practical sense and they show me new ideas and forms of knowledge. For example, my friend Marcus taught me how to weld around the time when we first met, and I dare say that my abilities are almost as good as his now, though welding is not too difficult if you set your mind to it, but it is indeed a very practical.”
Her speakings of how she accomplished said feats were phenomenal. I had never met a woman quite like Shadow. Although, I was hurt by her opinion of paramours and relationships, for they do aid each other in a further understand and they can grant each other so much more. I was indeed curious if Shadow had any scholarship accomplishments like my doctorate. I was about to ask her many more curious questions but she gave a great yawn and she relaxed deeper into her chair.
“Woeful, doctor,” she said, sleepily. “My mind still in adjustment from such violence and such bloodshed. It does make me tired to climatise. My prior episode of rage on the docks does weigh on my mind, and I am still deeply sorry that you were present to that; though I am glad you sought me out. It will be interesting to have a doctor for a roommate.” Her eyes suddenly sprang up and she bolted up from her seat. “And before I head to bed!” She strided from her chair towards her room, which was found towards the right of the living room from a short hallway.
I sat in the chair opposite to the one she had sat in before and I waited for my roommate to return.
She came back many minutes later in a mahogany housecoat that seemed elegant and handsome. Her army attire must have been stored away in her room. She seemed to be more at ease with her housecoat than in her military uniform. Her shoulders seemed less tense and a smile was widely anchored on her face.
“Doctor,” said she. “The bathroom is the only door down this hall, besides the bedroom. You do not need to stride too far in the dark if you need alleviation.”
“Alleviation?” I asked, concerningly.
Shadow shook her head and she walked back to her seat. “I would rather not go into such details.” She crossed her legs tightly and she folded her arms in front of her breast, glaring at me like a watchful hawk.
“Before I rest my head in sleep, doctor, do you have any questions?”
I could not think of any questions off of the top of my head, so I just shook my head to indicate No.
She nodded, “Fantastic,” her eyes became heavy with sleep and her head slowly began to drop. A few time she would raise her head and her eyes would widen, but then she would repeat falling to sleep. I wanted my new companion to at least wake up for long enough for her to venture to her bedroom, I did not want her to rest uncomfortably on her chair, even though she told me that she would be fine sleeping on it. So, I tapped her shoulder to wake her.
Her eyes sprang open and she looked straight towards me.
“Doctor,” said she. “What is the matter?”
“Shadow,” said I, sternly. “I don’t want you to sleep on this chair, I want you to get some proper sleep in a proper bed! I’ll sleep on the chair while you sleep on your bed! Please, Shadow?”
“Doctor,” she sat back up in her chair. “You are my guest in my domain. I would like you to have the comfort. I have slept on many chairs before, and I will continue to sleep on them. Fret not, doctor. If I suffer from a night terror I will wake you?”
I sighed, “Alright,” I complied, standing up from the chair as I walked to her room feeling ever so guilty. I looked at my companion as I had got to the door, and saw that she had already dozed off into a sleep. I watched her for many minutes to see if she would be alright. For the hours left of my consciousness I looked around her bedroom, and I read her works of art. I dare say that they were phenomenal. I wish I could show them to you but Shadow asked me to not, for they are incomplete and she does not feel confident in her works. Though, the one thing I can comment about her works were they seemed disturbing: talking about death, despairity, loss, and pain, but they were so enthralling, I was shocked and saddened that she had not finished and published them. I wondered why she wrote such horror.
I went to bed around 8:45, where for half an hour before I laid on her bed trying to fall asleep, but I could only think about Shadow and what she might be going through. What went through her head? I also asked myself, Why did she go to bed so early?
