Title: spared

The door finally opens. The front desk invites me, empty and bare. I slink towards it, locate the draw and find the key. The cold metal glistens in my palm. I leave the reception area and enter a room with a large number of wings, remembering it was the 2nd wing. Darkness and strange shadows surround me. No nurses to be found. The long corridor waits for me. I scurry down hoping I’m not found. I slowly creep, as silent as a ghost. Rooms line the corridor, left and right, filled with tortured souls waiting to escape. Cords dangling from the ceiling attach to unknown machines. A light flickers at the end of the corridor. Every time it attempts to shine it is shut down instantly by its inside. The silence and bitter cold only make me want to find it faster…

I finally reach his office. A metal name plaque reads, “Dr Grey, Military doctor”. I grab the key with anticipation, place it inside the lock hoping it will yield to my touch and slowly pull the door open avoiding the shrill of hinges. I enter the office and shut the door behind me and lock it calmly and carefully. I leave the room in darkness in order to minimize suspicion, using my phone light to guide me. My eyes are drawn to the filing cabinet, my only chance of hope considering I didn’t find anything in his house. If I can somehow find evidence of one more mis-diagnosis, I can give Dr Grey what he deserves. He stripped me of my job and livelihood. He’ll be found negligent and disbarred. He will be the laughing stock of his peers and there might even be a lawsuit.

Whilst rummaging through the files I start to hear a small clicking sound. I slowly turn my head whilst the hairs on my body stand. The door handle suddenly starts to twitch. I immediately become still and stare at it in complete fear. The large handle is a solid brass and gleams due to excessive use of polish. It makes an ominous movement from left to right as if it were a cobra meandering its head in preparation to strike. Every time it moves a sinister clicking sound fills the room. I feel a lump in my throat and nervously swallow it down trying to avoid my fear. The handle starts to move faster and faster. The colour drains from my face and my pulse begins to beat in my ears. My time is limited now. I return back to searching through the files with the constant pressure of the moving handle remembering how much Dr Grey’s mistake have cost me. My sweat starts dripping onto the folders as my uncontrollable hands search for an answer. My mind has no clarity. The handle wildly shaking, like a starving lion trying to escape its cage in order to catch its prey. I start to shut down. My eyes start to feel heavy and my body feels weak and sluggish. I lose all sense of discovery and justice with the continual piercing noise in my ears. I start to contemplate escaping until suddenly, the door handle comes to a complete halt.

The silence allows me to rekindle. My conscience returns and I continue my search keeping one eye on the handle. Perhaps there’s another place where he keeps files? I travel to his desk where I notice one file neatly placed in the centre of his desk. I slowly pick up the bright yellow case and open it eagerly. A sheet of paper covers the thick pile…with my photo on it. The text underneath the photo reads, “ASSSASINATION PLOT: Lewis Stronge once assigned to mission in Iran”. Wait a minute…Suddenly the lights in the office switch on and I am momentarily blinded. Time slows down. The door handle slowly turns and the lock cracks as the door is pushed open. I stare the figure for several seconds to only realize that it’s him. His hair, grey and disheveled similar to the last time I saw him. My stomach fills with anger and vengeance as I stare at his eyes. He looks at me bluntly and unsurprised. He awkwardly stands hunched over as his white coat reaches the floor brushing up against the carpet. His back crunches as he leans on his walking stick. “Why did you do this to me? You destroyed my future! You’re evil!” I shout. His face scrunches as his facial expressions squirm with anxiety and vulnerability “If you had continued your mission in Iran Lewis, you would have been killed. The Iranian government made plans to have you assassinated so a poor medical record was the only solution we could find to protect you, the Iranian government would have suspected otherwise. You have been on their hit list for over a year now and government intelligence had been informed it was your time” he says with great compassion.

My eyes widen in disbelief. The lump in my throat returns but this time I can’t swallow it down. My heart starts to race as my breath gasps at irregular intervals. Dr Grey pats me on the back and then slowly moves to his desk where he shows me the files regarding the organization of my death. Location, weapon, transportation, killer. Everything was organised and now I can see it clearly, right in front of my very own eyes! A knot in my stomach develops, bile rising to my throat. How could I have been so stupid and vulnerable? I’ve enlisted on tours, I’ve completed assignments, of course my life has always been at risk however I have never felt the fear of a target on my back. Death has stared me blankly in the face and I was completely oblivious.

All the assumption and judgment instantly turn into guilt. I have spent the last 6 months trying to convict an innocent man. who is in reality, my saviour. My eyes flood and every time I blink salty tears burn my sweltering skin. As the realization sets in I feel though my life has been spared, I have been given a second chance.

I struggle to look him in the eyes and say “How am I ever going to repay you?” His head rises, his eyes illuminate and his mouth finally stretches forming a smile.