Chapter
2 – Daily Temptations
An intruder breaks into my house. I
grab the gun that Josh gave me and shoot him twice. After which, I heal him and
strap his arms and legs down while I wait for him to wake up.
Once he does, I point my gun to his
head and say, “You’re blessed that God made me a doctor and not a
killer. You have two options. Leave and never try to steal again or stay here strapped
to this table until you feel like trying option one.”
The man picks option one and
promises never to leave again. I force him out of the house with my gun to his back
and push him out the door when he gets to it. Now that he’s out of the door, I lock
all my locks and keep my gun in my hands for the rest of the day just in case
he comes back or if another robber comes in. Thieves, rapists, and murderers
are common in this city and a handful of them have entered my house, which
is why Josh gave me a handgun and trained me how to use it. Thankfully, I’ve
been able to survive every attempt and after I defend myself, I always heal the
intruder for some dumb reason according to me and my friends. Every
time, I feel that I should kill the intruder almost wishing every time that my
hands would slip and accidentally kill them. It’s never happened and I’ve let go
of every intruder with only a couple of them coming back for revenge that were arrested
by Josh afterward.
As I said to the last intruder, I’m
a doctor and not a killer. Even though the temptation to kill always whispers
to me when I’ve been wronged by criminals and the scum of the city, I’ve never
done it, but it never stops bothering me. God, please help me never to kill and
only to heal as you have made me a doctor and not an executioner, soldier, or officer. Looking up at the bloodied white snake coiled around a piece of wood that
I have above my door, I remind myself of Jesus’ sacrifice and the various ways
this represents His sacrifice. How He was perceived to be evil though He is
sinless, how He willingly accepted our punishment for our sins, His immense
suffering, and how He still hangs there ready to forgive even the worst of
sinners. Offering up my suffering to Him has been another one of my ways of
coping with my worries and misery.
Alright, now, I’m focused on my
life’s purpose. Tomorrow comes and the rest of the week passes as if it were
all contained in a single day because of all the patients I see and help. I
also collaborate with other doctors on surgeries that require more than one
doctor and ones that are easier with doctors around to keep the patient stable.
After which, we congratulate and reward ourselves by splitting the pay and
using the rest to go out to dinner in a better part of the city. It’s almost
like we’re in a different city here with flying cars here and there, relatively
clean streets, and a police presence every few blocks or so.
While eating at the restaurant we
chose, we talk about how our lives have been going, notable events such as the intruder
entering my house, and the struggles of being a doctor and being to make sure
that we make it obvious that we don’t admit that we’re back alley doctors in
public. Being a back alley doctor is illegal and we could be put in prison if
anyone who wanted us in prison such as other doctors or people in the medical
business who are losing business because of us find out and report us. This is
why the only people who know of us are those we can trust or know someone we
trust. Our close connections and underground network are also how we get the
medical tech we need for surgeries and more particular procedures. In terms of
medicine, we usually recommend natural solutions such as herbs and healthy
living rather than giving them pills or injections. I’d say that our natural
solutions are better than those in the medical industry since what they give
out makes people sicker than healed. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I think
they do it so that people keep coming back for checkups more often than they would.
“You should stop picking people
from the streets to help them,” one of my fellow doctors says.
What she says almost makes me choke
on my food.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Don’t act stupid. You already know
why. Your life and work are at risk when you do it and don’t even get me started
on healing the intruders.”
“Those people I find need help. Who’s
going to help them if I don’t?”
“We can’t afford to take care of
people who don’t pay and who may endanger our lives. They’d be better off dead.”
I get up, slap her, and say, “I’m
a doctor! We’re doctors! We save lives, not abandon them!”
“Natasha, we know. It’s just that
we have to be careful about who we care for. We can’t save everyone,” another
doctor says.
For the rest of the dinner, the
other doctors try bringing the good mood back to mixed results. When I get
home, I immediately take a shower and hit the bed, especially since I have to
help out at a homeless shelter tomorrow for extra pay. While I’m working and
serving meals, I can’t help but think about what was said yesterday, especially
when the poor and needy are picky with the food and supplies they receive. I’m tempted
to tell them to leave if they don’t like it most days, but today I’m even more
tempted to do so. The temptations bother me so much, in fact, that I don’t hear
the sounds of fighting happening further in the building until everyone takes
note of it and is moving to see what’s going on.
When I check out what’s happening with
the others, I see a masked kidnapper trying to steal one of the women.
Two other people are injured on the ground because of stab wounds presumably
from the kidnapper’s knife that they still have in their hands that they point
at everyone before bringing it to their hostage’s neck.
“Come any closer and she gets it
next!” the kidnapper says.
No one moves. The kidnapper then
takes away the woman out the door and into the alleyway. Even with them gone,
no one does anything and just stands around and watches the door while we hear
the woman’s muffled screams for help. This has happened before. People have
been kidnapped in the morning, during the night, and sometimes during the
midday like now. Every time it happens, the kidnapped person is never found. Occasionally,
my imagination makes me hear the screams of the people who were kidnapped or at
least that’s what I’d like to think. I can’t bear to think that I’m ignoring
the screams of people who need help because I can’t do anything to help them
and I can’t bear what’s happening now, so I run after this latest victim into
the alley.
In the alley, I see the woman, her
kidnapper, and two other people ready to put the woman into their car that’s
parked on the sidewalk. For scenarios when I need to defend myself, I carry a
small knife in my pockets, which I take out ready to use. It’s times like these
that I wish concealed handguns were still legal in America. The kidnapper stops
and threatens to cut the woman’s neck again, but I throw my knife at the kidnapper’s
arm before they can say anything else. To my and the kidnapper’s surprise, the
knife instead lands in the kidnapper’s neck making them let go of the woman
who quickly runs behind me. I’ve taken throwing knife training for this exact
scenario and I’ve somehow messed it up. Before I can even think of helping the
kidnapper who is now clutching their bleeding throat, their two friends exit
their car and run at me with their knives.
I pick up a nearby brick and throw
it at one of the kidnappers who is knocked out once it hits their face. Quickly,
I pick up the knife from the kidnapper I killed and dodge the attacks of the
last kidnapper who swings their knife frantically and sloppily at me. They tire
themselves out instantly because of the way they’re attacking allowing me to
stab my knife into them, but I miss their gut because of the heat of the moment
and end up stabbing the kidnapper in the chest, instantly killing them. People
come out from behind me congratulating me for rescuing the woman, however, I’m
in a panic because of what I’ve done.
“Get these people inside,
especially the one with the head injury!” I say to them.
“Why should we help-”
“Because I’m a doctor, damn it!”
“Screw that!” one person says
before taking the brick and caving in the kidnapper’s head in with it.
Livid, I start punching and
screaming at the person. People have to pull me away from them and to be
honest, I’m thankful they did because I would’ve done something I’d regret as
if I don’t have enough to regret already. Sure, I’m glad I rescued the woman,
but I killed two people. It’s a good thing that I’m working at a Catholic charity
because I immediately go to a priest to confess what I did.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You
defended an innocent life by putting your life on the line. What you did was
justified even though you killed those two kidnappers because you did it in
self-defense,” the priest says.
Even though I trust the priest and
know that I’m justified, I don’t feel that way. I’m a doctor and I killed two people.
That fact will bother me for the rest of my life. The once tempting feelings I
had to kill are bitterly satisfied and have left me feeling empty. After
washing up and sitting down for a bit, I’m told by the other workers that the
bodies of the kidnappers will be taken care of and buried somewhere no one will
find them. I’m congratulated by most of the people in the building and given a
golden cross, a bottle of wine, a basket of food, and a bonus in my pay as a reward.
Torn by my feelings, I thank them, leave the building since my work today is
done, go home, put my gifts on the table, and crash on the couch. I’ve somehow
gotten more than I wanted and still feel horrible. That’s life in this country
for you.
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