From the Edge
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From the moment Peter's surgery had ended, things had not gone well. Whatever pain he had been feeling, it had not gone away. The only times the pain eased was when morphine had been given. That might have been considered normal for other patients, but after that, the dreams started. Dreams that he had not had since after the destruction of the temple. Over and over he continued to feel the beam fall on him and his child companion. Over and over he saw his father from an opening in the wall, but his mind twisted the reality of what he had seen. And when that happened, a different pain grew, translating it into the pain of his wounds. Why he was having these dreams was uncertain. Perhaps it was the nature of the injuries. They had been very similar to the injuries he had received at the temple, though they were on the opposite side where those injuries occurred. Still, new injuries can often times bring up old memories of pain, pain that had not fully healed. Especially if that pain was of a nature that went deeper than any physical wound ever could.
"Father!" Peter cried out. "Don't leave me! No!" he cried as he saw his father turn away. "No. Why, why have you abandoned me? I hate you. I hate you. For three years I hated you for that. And I couldn't even revenge your death. Why, why did you have to leave me! Why!" Peter cried in the dreams of his despair as the anguish of his father's betrayal filled him with a different pain.
Each time he would cry out in the dream, he would cry out in his sleep. And each time another dose of morphine was given. His physical pain would cease. But the other pain, the pain of his soul would return, manifesting as the physical pain of his wounds. Each time the morphine's gentle caress was gone, the pain was more intense than the last, until finally, with the last dose of medication, Peter's soul hoped the pain would be gone for the last time.
Peter looked up into the face of Dr. Randell. Peter said something, but he could not make out his own words. He knew he spoke, but his words seemed to come from a distance. The next thing he knew, the Doctor was easing him over onto his side and he could feel him remove the bandage that covered one of the gunshot wounds he had received. As the Doctor touched his back, he could feel fingers of fire radiating through his back. He knew something was wrong, but the Doctor did not seem concerned so he ignored it. Then the Doctor turned Peter on his back and examined the other wound. The same thing happened as well. Then something strange was happening. As if from a distance, Peter watched as the Doctor adjusted his medication intake. Peter found that odd because his own mind could recall that it had been adjusted twice within the past five minutes. It was then that Peter recalled that every time he dreamed and called out to his father, the pain would disappear after he had received a new dose of medication. This last time, as his medication was changed again, an understanding was reached, but by that time, a part of Peter did not care.
From Peter's perspective, the Doctor tried to reassure him, but something in his words did not ring true and another part knew that something was terribly wrong. As Peter drifted in and out, he stared up at Doctor Randell. Within his drug hazed mind he saw the doctor's face contort and smiles an evil grin. Realization hit Peter and he knew that the Doctor was responsible for some of his anguish. He realized, at that moment, he was on the edge, the edge that every addict knew. Get that fix or the pain would return. There was a measure comfort in the drug's caress, seductive and alluring, but it held no true warmth. Within the drug's embrace, Peter forgot that. But all Peter wanted from that moment was to not feel the pain any more.
End of Part 10
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2001.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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