Pain.

It was a sensation many were familiar with, and those who were unfamiliar with the sensation were most likely long dead.

It was a welcome sensation, a necessary sensation. Without the sense of pain, one would be uncertain to their own existence…

Pain, as much as it was a ‘bad’ thing, defined living. The absence of pain was known as dying.

This was much more philosophical than the thoughts currently going through Oliver’s head.

A more accurate account of what he would be thinking could be summed up with a very select vocabulary of swear words about the pain his eyes were going through as he tried to open them, instead meeting blinding light.

It was only a solid minute after that, and rolling off of whatever bed he was on, that Oliver managed to open his eyes without feeling pain.

He was still in pain due to landing on his forehead though, now curling up and clenching his skull.

Somewhere within the din of pain he heard laughter, the sound of which was grating and felt like needles in his head.

Or a heavy hangover… he was used to the latter of the two options, and this felt slightly worse.

“I see you’re awake. Good. You can leave.” The voice spoke, old and male, and Oliver took a few moments to try and stand, stumbling a bit as he grabbed for the… cot?

Better known as a hospital bed, Oliver looked around seeing the plain white of the area, now having a surety in his thoughts that he was in a hospital.

Where this hospital was and how long he was there… he didn’t know the answers…

The last thing he remembered was trying to leave that town…

It was only after the voice cleared its throat that he looked to the source, seeing an old man in a doctor’s coat, stethoscope stereotypically hung around the neck.

The man was old, the wrinkles almost like the contours of a topographical map, but beyond that, the man was relatively normal.

Normal if one ignored that the doctor had what looked like cloth bandages covering his eyes. Considering that, he was weird.

“Where am I? And… how long have I been here?” Oliver paused for a moment, though the old man allowed Oliver to continue his thoughts before he nodded to himself.

“And… do you know where my children are?” Oliver had the belief that he came first. If he had to pick between his children and himself, he’d pick himself every time.

But if he could help them out, he would. Asshole he may be, but they were his children.

“Three questions for three answers, I suppose I’ll support you in that sense.” The doctor said as he walked over to the window, seemingly peering out of it.

But once more, let it be said that this man was blindfolded and shouldn’t be able to see, unless the cloth was sheer and he didn’t really have an issue with his eyesight.

“For your first question on your location, you are inside the only medical practice in Sanguine, the Red Clinic.” The man gestured to himself with a palm facing his heart.

“You have been here for a day after you were in an accident involving a truck crashing into your car. This is the answer to your second question on time, though the answer is relative.” Oliver found himself getting more and more confused as the doctor talked, the man was confusing to a large extent.

What was all this about ‘time being relative’ and… there was a moment of confusion.

‘A day after you were in an accident involving a truck crashing into your car.’ These were the words the doctor just said…

No one got out of a situation like that uninjured, even if it was barely a knock on the side, there were cases of sprained necks, broken bones, death was normal, for all that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Oliver knew this.

So why was it that, other than a sense of grogginess when he woke up, he was completely fine?

“Oh, and to your third question, I know not where your children may be. You were the only one to be brought to me.” The doctor admitted, and that worried Oliver…

If his children were dead… that was the only reason why they wouldn’t be with him, isn’t it?

“Judging by the expression on your face, I assume you’re worried about their health? Do not worry, the Undertaker is a friend of mine, he hasn’t mentioned any recent burials or need for any.” The Doctor tried to calm Oliver down, but the words did not have that effect.

Partially because of the bandages on the doctor’s face, that he saw Oliver’s expression meant that those bandages did not in fact stop the doctor from seeing.

Also because the doctor was friends with the Undertaker of the town… that implied something about this doctor… that there were often people who died, or that autopsies were done here, either was a bit worrying to Oliver, just on principle.

“Okay… thanks for your help I guess… I didn’t get your name though?” Oliver asked, his persona of a kind father showing through slightly in how he talked.

It didn’t seem to trick the doctor who chuckled at the politer speech.

“Oh you poor child… my name isn’t that important, but you can call me Van.” The name sounded strange to Oliver, sounding like van but with an ‘h’ included, creating a ‘V-ah-n’ name.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“…You’ve been pitying me for a while now…” Oliver’s words were an attempt to convey how annoyed he was at Van’s tone and manner of speaking.

Van didn’t care though and just chuckled, his smile showing a glint of sharp teeth- wait what?

Looking again, Oliver figured it was a trick of the eyes, and besides, staring at someone’s teeth was a strange thing to do.

“When you see a lion cub walking around like a king in front of the adults, don’t you feel pity for the child when it tries to challenge the elders?” Van’s question confused Oliver who just shrugged in return.

He didn’t quite get that he was the cub in the analogy, but even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t get who the ‘elders’ were either.

“Whatever… you said I could leave though, right?” Oliver asked again, and Van nodded, picking up a page and ‘staring’ at it.

“Yes, as far as I am aware, you are dying at the slowest rate possible.” The grim tone of the statement had Oliver worried for a while until Ban began to chuckle.

“Don’t look so worried, it’s just another way of saying ‘healthy’ because that’s all that it is. Being healthy is just dying really slow.” Oliver never thought about it like that…

“I guess it is… so I’m healthy, I can leave?” Oliver pointed to the door on the side, getting a shrug from Van.

“I can’t keep you here… How I wish I could though… Type-O blood is rare, and we don’t always have any in stock.” Van’s knowledge of Oliver’s blood-type was acceptable, if the guy was checking for his safety and such then it made sense to know that information.

But the wanting for more blood was a definite oddity.

Even that could be explained away because of the rarity of O-type blood, the universal donor type.

But needing more of it… why?

“Uh, are blood donations needed a lot in this town?” Oliver’s concern was starting to come out a bit more… he was also thinking about how Stacy seemed to be a bit worried during the drive out the town for some reason.

Given that they got into a crash, maybe her worry was justified? Maybe…

It seemed far-fetched if you asked Oliver, lots of tiny hints as to ‘you are going to get knocked over by a truck’ just didn’t happen, it made no sense as an occurrence.

“More often than you’d think, especially considering the Red Clinic functions primarily as a blood transfusion centre.” The words, coupled with Van smirking had Oliver freaked out, not noticing the sharper incisors in that smile.

“Right… well, I’m not donating any, sorry. But, before I leave… I wanted to ask, what is up with the bandages, do you have… uh, light sensitivity I think it was?” Oliver wasn’t certain on the phrase, he’d only seen it once or twice in Stacy’s biology textbooks.

Again, she was a surprisingly smart kid for someone with her problems.

“Light sensitivity… sure, let’s go with that. I have other reasons, but I do have the aforementioned issue.” Van accepted the excuse, but admitted that it was only part of the reason for the bandages.

“Well, not to complain after you helped me out, but if you’re going to be a doctor shouldn’t you show your patients that you’re fine?” Oliver’s question was a worthwhile one.

It was part of the reason why doctors were typically fit and healthy, they knew what was bad and avoided those things.

Another reason was because doctors were rich and therefore had the option of eating only balanced meals and having gym-memberships and all that, but let’s focus on the other explanation rather.

Basically, if your doctor had a problem, you’d subconsciously think that ‘hey, he can’t fix his own problem, how could he fix mine?’ and you’d distrust the doctor.

“Oh I’m fine, this is just part of the culture here in Sanguine. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t wear these.” Van admitted, stroking the fabric above his eyes, a creepy action in Oliver’s eyes.

“It’s part of the culture… why? I mean, what does it mean, and why do you do it?” Oliver asked, remembering being tutored by Stacy’s mom.

Most of those lessons quickly turned vulgar, but one or two things he remembered, one was that ‘when giving a presentation involving a question, clarify the question as much as possible’. He mostly remembered that because it was called an ‘oral’ presentation, and he was happy about that first bit at the time.

Thinking back, ignoring that Stacy happened, he considered himself a lucky bastard when he was a teen.

“It’s that saying, the eyes are the window to the soul. We in Sanguine take the saying very seriously, and the only time someone doesn’t wear blindfolds is when they are free of emotional dilemma, or around people they trust.” That got a raised eyebrow from Oliver, who at this point was obviously assuming that Van could see through the cloth on his face.

“You know, I met a gas station attendant who didn’t wear them… And considering you’re wearing them, doesn’t that mean you have issues?” Oliver was quick to accuse, though he made sure to not shout or anything like that.

Oliver caught on a lot of shit as a kid, and somewhere along the line he got better at keeping away from issues, or at least hiding his involvement.

“Ah, the Attendant, he’s proud to be as he is, and so doesn’t care if others look into his soul.” Somehow, Oliver didn’t feel as if that was said as a joke…

“And for myself… I have my issues, I know I do. I have yet to be strong enough to deal with others knowing them though.” Van said with a frown, messaging his temples for a moment.

“There are also people in town who… consider them important, like the Mayor and a few others. They do not care for wearing blindfolds because they’d just look into the eyes of the person trying.” Oliver didn’t get it, scratching his head with a sigh as he got his shoes out from under the bed.

Putting them on, he was getting ready to leave as he continued to converse with the creepy doctor.

“I think I don’t need it… it’s your culture, not mine.” Oliver thought his words were being even, but in fact they were slightly insulting.

Van had a small smile come onto his pallid face while he chuckled at Oliver’s words.

“Ah, well… it’s your choice, and I can’t force you to wear one. Just beware staring into the eyes of those who don’t wear blindfolds… there’s another saying Sanguine follows.” Van said as Oliver was about to leave out the door, making the man turn to look at the doctor.

“If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. Take care that you don’t look…” The doctor said as Oliver closed the door, too disturbed by the words to try continuing the conversation.

Left alone in the room, the ‘doctor’ turned to the window, unwrapping the cloth from his eyes, waiting for something…

Within a moment, the door was opened, and he turned, looking to a nurse walking in… of course, Oliver was not allowed to see this nurse, especially given that ‘she’ was a dried out husk with red eyes.

“Ah, bring it here please.” The Doctor spoke, discarding the name he thought up on the spot to give to Oliver as the decaying corpse he used as a nurse walked closer.

In the slightly shaking hands of the corpse was a vial, within which was a red liquid, the life-source, blood, taken from Oliver during his sleep.

“Before taking this to The Origin, I’ll weigh it.” The Doctor’s words were spoken aloud in the case that any of his fellow zealots were listening in…

The Doctor was not the highest power amongst the zealots of The Origin, but he was notably high. The only beings capable of monitoring him without his notice would be his superiors.

Taking the vial and removing the cork, the Doctor allowed one drop to touch his extended tongue, tasting the life essence of the man he ‘healed’.

The moment the drop touched his tongue, the Doctor was rejuvenated, no longer taking the appearance of an old man, now a rugged man in his late twenties or early thirties as he hummed in thought.

“Not a virgin obviously given his children, and polluted through a life of debauchery, the essence of this blood was acceptable at one point, but is now tainted… he is worth little to us.” The Doctor determined as he looked out the window to see Oliver walking away.

Oliver didn’t feel the gaze of the Old One, and he would be thankful for it…

The beastly red eyes and sharp fangs would be denied by Oliver… for there was no way a being such as the Doctor could exist in a normal world.

But unfortunately for Oliver, this world was not normal, and the Doctor did exist…

The only silver-lining was that Oliver was dying at the slowest rate possible.