Broken Apart

Do they remember who they are? Do they wonder what their purpose is?

Their backs go boom and blots of blood drip below their body. Their mind is tormented by their torturous past. They twitch and cry. They scream, thinking about their lost comrades.

I walk into the office all full of joy to help these wonderful and strong veterans who served in our army. All of sudden I am shaken by their harrowing cries. Friends falling, gunshots firing and the slow sound of blood dripping.

Hearing their desperate cries, so I immediately talked to the doctor and walked into the melancholic, claustrophosbic room. I sat down and the old and shattered man carefully opened his eyes. I could tell from his red, swollen and dead eyes he was depressed. It was shocking to see his blank expression when he noticed me. I softly rested my arm on his frail leg and rubbed gently as if he was like my stranded puppy. His temporary smile brought a brief moment of life to his cadaver like composure.

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101\ m042 As the morning drifted into noon, the nurse talked about how things went. She informed me about his past and what war was like. It touched me and the soldier’s courage greatly inspired me to do many other things. Eventually, night rolled by as quick as a flight from Mount ISA to Cloncurry.

I woke up on the soft padded seat. A slow smile widened as I watched his old wrinkled face snore. I quietly left the room to leave for another patient.