Things always lose their value when they wither and die; hence, recognize the moment you lose something through its initial signs. Whether it is shattered or not, hold on to your damaged goal. It's not important for it to be of high quality; what matters most is the tenacity to cling to it. Goals make us alive; without them, you are a hollow body without a soul.
Her eyes sparkled with sadness under the moonlight, and a warm tear fell from her left eye. She knew her end and could not accept it. Right, left, surrounded by strangers, except for one person she knew all too well—a boy with calm features, wide eyes, beautiful lips, and a straight nose. It was Adrian, a newcomer at work for four years, and now her end was in the hands of the one who had captured her admiration all those years ago.
He picked up the scalpel from the hands of that villain, glancing between her and the others present. He took a breath and stood upright, repeating to himself, "Four years, four years, let it go to hell!" He knew what he was doing and that he was sinking. He closed his eyes, opened them again, "Oh God, what have you afflicted me with? I cannot bear this torment." He gathered the fragments of his lost self and stepped towards her as if heading toward hell, fully aware that everything he was doing was utterly wrong. He knelt over her, and she screamed, but it was in vain, for no call could be heard today, nor could she move. Everything she did was in vain and lost, no matter how much she struggled. She was merely one of the tormented, facing her fated destiny.
Drowning in her tears, you can imagine that all she thought of was Adrian’s face, still and bloody, swollen and wounded. Even his beautiful eyes, in her view, were smeared with blood. She thought he would save her. She did not know he wanted to escape from this immense ordeal. He inserted the scalpel between her breasts without thinking, twisting silently, "Oh, what ill fortune you have, Olivia, you were not one of the lucky ones." He pushed it deeper into her, and she convulsed from the pain. Her blood flowed like maple syrup, but red for the onlookers. He pulled the scalpel straight down to her navel, blood splattering everywhere like a fountain. Her life flashed before her. She wanted to spend this day with her mother. She left her house that morning, shouting at her mother to go to hell. It was only now that she wished to say, "Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that disgraceful thing," but today there was no room for apologies or returns—only a dreadful death. It was the end of her life at the hands of her beloved, a truth neither certain nor imaginary, but real indeed.
He placed his hand on the physician’s hand to stop him and looked into Adrian’s eyes, questioning, "Mr. Johnson, do you harbor any grudges against this lady? You are a doctor after all... you didn’t even ask us to render her unconscious to start your work since there’s no anaesthetic. We’re not in an operating room, mind you. Isn’t it sad for such a beautiful lady?" Adrian glared at Jonathan's worried face, thinking to himself, "Isn't this the one who just punched me to death a moment ago?" He replied, "I’m just doing what you asked!" Jonathan looked fearfully at Olivia’s bleeding body, struggling for her life. She was convulsing from the severe pain; her belly was opened and blood splattered a crimson hue, like a waterfall. Under this gruesome sight, Jonathan said, "You’re a monster, Mr. Johnson." Adrian shoved him with all his might, causing him to collide with the car a few meters away. He shouted, "Sam, make her lose consciousness fast... hurry up!!" Sam rushed toward her like lightning, a massive, rough man, two meters tall, muscular, with sharp features, possessing huge hands. He wrapped his hands around her neck, and with a quick motion, he snapped it. She fainted from the pain.
"You fool, bastard," Jonathan spat out and turned his gaze toward Adrian. "What were you thinking, for God's sake? You’re no different from the killers now. You were relishing cutting her; you were smiling! Are you insane?" Jonathan shouted hysterically, veins bulging from his neck. "We’re only here to remove the organs, not for amusement. Do you understand that you are a doctor worthy of this profession? But to smile… there’s something wrong with you!" His eyes wide, gesturing with anger towards Adrian. Adrian watched Jonathan calmly and stood up. "Should I continue?" Jonathan advanced toward him, and a strong punch was about to land, but Patrick and Arthur intervened, holding him back. There was going to be two corpses in this dark forest. Jonathan yelled, "Let me go, damn it!" He was furious, spitting words, "I don’t know what the boss sees in you, but there’s something wrong, I’m sure of it, you bastard!" They worked to calm Jonathan until he settled down. "Jon, is there something wrong with you? You're not yourself," Sam inquired with worried eyes. Jonathan replied, "Nothing, let’s get on with this damned work." He stood up and looked at Adrian, who was so angry he wanted to kick him. He was provoked by Adrian’s lack of emotion, like a robotic man executing orders. Anyone in his position would not display such cold behaviors. "There’s something wrong, I’m certain of this," was all Jonathan could think.
He picked up the scalpel from the snowy ground. Behind the scalpel lay the beautiful body of Olivia, a stunning lady with flawless white skin, gentle features. A small nose that was almost button-like in its smallness, a charming smile, and ideal lips. Her eyes were like blue gemstones, and her hair was silky, leaning towards white with a yellowish hue. She was an angel descended from heaven. But now, her condition was miserable—her belly was opened, exposing the writhing organs due to this huge gash, starting from her chest and ending below her navel, with blood flowing this way and that. Her ribs were purple , and her heart was red, her intestines pink.
He moved toward the body, which was still battling for life, to continue what he had started. Although this body showed everything it bore, his fingers swiftly traced over the gaping wound in the sweet girl, tearing out her vibrant heart. His eyes shone with a glimmer he recognized all too well, a memory not quite a memory, even with the passing days. It was still beating, beating. "Doctor, place it here," a voice said. Adrian turned his head toward the sound—if it was Patrick, the red-haired one. He moved his pupils toward the mentioned place and saw an insulated bag with blocks of ice. He placed the heart gently inside, as if bidding farewell with her heart. All this was under Jonathan’s distant gaze. There, beside the car, he watched this physician's brutality and felt that there was something hidden behind this behavior, seeing him as a beast. He used only the surgical tool, the scalpel, to extract the rest of the organs with his bare hands after the heart—taking out the lungs, liver, kidneys, and placing them with the help of his crew into the insulated organ bags and boxes.
From Adrian's perspective, he felt the warmth of Olivia's body from within his hands. Thoughts of despair raced through his mind with every deeper thrust into her soft body. It didn't seem brutal to him but rather a delightful ecstasy. He opened his mouth in a strange way for an observer to see, but fortunate for him, it was pitch dark here, and all the lights were directed only at Olivia. His pupils trembled with each deepening, each warmth; he felt her blood pouring into his wrists, and his breathing grew heavy as his fingers swam in the great gash. As blood pooled around her body, the bright red pooled into the white snow falling on the ground, he felt a shiver coursing through his body. He was now intoxicated, feeling that this was her fate, whether he lay with her or not; he was going to experience this warmth in this state or another.
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He continued to delve deeper until he regained consciousness, realizing and straightening up, screaming with all his might. He fell to the ground, his screams filled with "What is this?" and "How can this be?" His throat was raw and his vocal cords strained, a confused memory, and a lost state. He looked at his hand stained with blood and the corpse before him, screaming louder, "What is this, oh God? How is this and that?" He wept and lamented, "Save me, oh God." He looked right and left, "Who are you... who are you?" It was more of a scream than an inquiry.
"Your doctor has finally lost his mind," Leo's words escaped his lips. Patrick elbowed him, "Shut up, you!" They seemed to watch him as he screamed, hysterical. All in their minds, was he indeed out of his mind after all this? None of them could take a step towards him; he was like a dangerous madman whose mind had just shattered, becoming a white blank slate without thought. Arthur was frozen in place, wondering what had just happened. "What now... when will this day end well?" Jonathan rushed toward the frenzied Adrian to regain control of the situation and punched him hard in the face, knocking him out cold. "What just happened?" he asked the boys, but they responded with ignorance. He then held his hand after the punch, feeling the pain. "A raging bull, damn him, how did I get myself into this... oh God."
He was pessimistic to the skies, glancing at Adrian, now unconscious, sprawled on the snowy ground. He was about to explode with rage. How could this idiot create such damage in his work? This wasn’t the first time for such tasks, but this time the mission had taken a grotesque turn by all accounts. Jonathan's work had always been clean and precise without errors, but now it was a "flagrant failure." He muttered, striding toward Sam, turning to him and saying, "The work ends here." Sam, noting in his notebook, said, "All organs are accounted for, from the heart to the kidneys." Jonathan spoke to him, pointing at Olivia's corpse, "Do not bury her, leave her here on the surface; perhaps hungry animals will finish her off," and indicated Adrian, "And this idiot, I will take with me. You finish the deal with the black knights at the end of the purple hill." He added, "Where's the rest?" inquiring. Sam replied, "They are there at the forest entrance." Jonathan nodded and walked toward the still body of Adrian, carrying him on his back toward his car.
The sound of whistling and blurry vision came as he regained consciousness, feeling a chill on the right side of his face. He opened his eyes wide in fear, and this chill was from the car window he was leaning against. He lifted his head and glanced right and left to assess his state, finding himself seated, bound to the front seat of someone’s car. "Good, you finally woke up, doctor. Oh God, how delightful this sandwich is," he turned to the voice enthusiastically enjoying their food—a hand rummaging through the paper bag in their lap. His stomach growled from hunger, sounding like a crow, and he couldn’t tell if it was morning again or if days had passed. His memory blurred about what day it was. "Oh God, that’s your stomach, you seem hungry, doctor," said Jonathan, smiling sidelong with bright eyes. That smile was refreshingly sweet, but…
He took a moment to realize it was the same one who had just punched him furiously back there, and he pushed that thought from his mind, chastising himself, "I must have lost my mind for a moment; how could I think of such a silly idea? This madman nearly killed me!" The man next to him in the car was picking through the food “I brought you a sandwich from my favorite place, doctor. Here,” he extended the sandwich towards Adrian, its delicious aroma wafting enticingly. His stomach churned with fierce desire. He looked at Jonathan with a frown. "What?" Jonathan asked, raising his shoulders, "Don’t want it? Alright, I’ll eat it myself. After all, it’s from my favorite place," and he took a sip from the soda can in his other hand. Dan cleared his throat before speaking, "I don’t mean to offend, but how do you expect me to take it from you? As you see, my hands are tied up in this rope... I hope you’re joking or something!" He raised his hands to let the other see them. Jonathan squinted at him and started to comprehend what was going on, apologizing for not realizing it and loosening the bindings around Dan’s hands. He handed him the sandwich and the soda, "Here, I’m sorry for being distracted, Mr. Adrian," with an embarrassed yet apologetic smile.
Under the night’s darkness with the cars' red and white lights moving and the slow fall of snow, there was only the rustling of bags and the sound of straws chasing soda, signaling the end of their meal. They both were engrossed in eating. No one spoke after Jonathan handed Adrian the meal; it had been a long, strange day for them both. Jonathan finished eating and gazed outside the car window, having parked on the curb near the hospital. He turned to Adrian and spoke softly, "Are you done with your meal, doctor, or do you need more?" Adrian glanced at him and gestured to the remaining piece of the sandwich, "More." Jonathan nodded in understanding and added, "Okay... that’s fine; but where do you live, doctor? I’ll take you home." Dan turned to him, his face contorting in surprise, "But my car is over there; I want to head to it. It's still in the hospital parking lot," he said with a pained expression. Jonathan replied, "Orders are orders; don’t argue with me because I’m responsible for you now," with a determined tone. Dan opened the window after asking Jonathan's permission and threw the paper bag and what was left in it outside. He looked at Jonathan with displeasure, not wanting to speak; words got stuck in his throat. If he had the power, he would have cried, with everything in his mind questioning how things had reached this low level—he would equate it to tearing the wings off a bird. He fixed his gaze forward, "It's a strange day; I live in the Dawn Oasis neighborhood." His words came out with a sigh and disappointment that you would know. Jonathan fired up the engine, and they began to move under his guidance. It didn't take long until they arrived at the residential area. "Nice, you live here; it’s a perfect choice, Mr. Johnson," Jonathan said cheerfully, but Dan remained silent, exhaling deeply as he described to the other where his house was.
The car stopped in front of the house. "Safe travels, Mr. Johnson," Jonathan said cheerfully, adding, "We’ve reached your destination." He chuckled lightly and turned to Adrian, "Well, you can get out now."
As Dan leaned out of the car after opening the door, a hand pulled him back, causing him to sit down again, turning in shock at the person behind this hand. Fear gripped him anew; he couldn’t believe how he was still stuck; hadn’t this day reached a peaceful end? "Mr. Johnson, remain in your house for a week, and do not attempt to talk to anyone or act out. For a week, don’t even open the door for anyone... Understood!" Jonathan’s expression was dark. Dan was stunned and replied fearfully, "But my work..." Jonathan interrupted, "Consider it taken care of from this moment; now go home," pushing him forcefully to go. Dan exited the car, limping from the amount he had experienced that night. Tears gathered in his eyes, and all he could think of were those words, "There must be something wrong." He reached the doorstep and turned back, but Jonathan’s car remained there, watching him like a wolf, with that dark expression and falsely warm smile. He waved goodbye, and Dan waved back as well, opening the door with difficulty and confusion. He leaned against it, silently crying with a heavy heart, hearing the rumble of that car driving away, "How did this happen, how did this happen?" What he faced was no small matter, and he wished desperately for his freedom to return now.
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