“Sir, about the thing we talked about…” Sahil’s father asked his son's doctor. He sat on the chair with his back bent forward, holding on to the armrest like his life depended on it. His wife sat on the chair next to him. She was equally worried about the doctor’s report.
“Yes,” The doctor pulled up the patient's file and had a look at the tests. For a second there was only the sound of paper flipping in the small room before the doctor looked at the couple and announced, “It’s good. You don’t have to worry. All the tests came out negative. We didn’t find any illegal substances in your son’s bloodstream or urine. Mr. Ravinder, your son isn’t taking any drugs as far as we are concerned.”
The couple looked at each other and sighed in relief.
“Isn’t it true that the drugs remain in the body for only so long,” Mr. Ravinder asked.
“Yes, they do.” The doctor agreed, closed the file, and put it back in the pile. “But drugs can still be detected in the urine for up to four days. So we can clear the suspicion that your son acted under any kind of influence. He decided to run after the thief on his own.”
“What about his other abnormal behaviors?” The middle-aged woman asked. She wasn’t convinced by the doctor's opinion. She believed there was something wrong with her son. “His appetite has increased several times than before and he’s also angry all the time. He lashed at me for not feeding him enough a couple of days ago. He never did that before. And the mumbling? He was mumbling on the day of the incident. His brother told us he kept mumbling even on the school bus! His school friend told us that he was mumbling all day in the class too. That's not right, is it?”
“Anger and appetite can easily be associated with puberty.” The doctor answered politely. “Even mumbling could be something like thinking out loud. I know you as parents want the best for your child, but we can’t be impatient in these situations. Lest we take the wrong step forward and waste time with the wrong procedure.”
“There must be something we can do…” The husband asked politely.
The doctor looked at the two parents and sighed. “I believe your son is a healthy young boy. However, if you are still concerned about his well-being I think you should consult a psychologist.” The doctor then rummaged through his drawer before pulling a card out of it and presenting it to the old couple. “Dr. Vaishali is an excellent psychologist in our area. She practices closeby. Since we can conclude that there is nothing medically wrong with your son, maybe she can help answer your questions and offer insight into your son's mind.”
The two parents looked at each other. They were skeptical. As far as they knew only mental patients needed a psychologist's help. The couple pondered silently for a moment before reaching an agreement. The husband took a deep breath, took the card from the doctor, and thanked him for his help.
****
[The Daily superpower system has heard your wish!]
[Heal is the power that allows you to improve the health of any biological organism and restore its bodily function to the optimal condition.]
[Task level: E]
[Drink 100 ml of your blood.]
[Would you like to accept the task to acquire the ability? Yes/No]
The task gave me quite a scare. “Where am I gonna find blood? Wait! It said your blood--”
A chill crept up my sleeve. I imagined tightening a tourniquet on my arm and taking a blade to my wrist. The blade slashed apart my skin. Then there was blood everywhere. It gave me the shivers.
The tasks so far had been quite accommodating. Yes, they had some effects on my life, but they weren’t difficult to perform. Where did this one pop out from? Did the system change my invigilators and the new one wanted to see me shed some blood?
Could I mutilate myself to get a superpower? Many people would sacrifice an arm and a leg, or even more for such an opportunity. Even I would.
But I had a choice. I didn’t need the power to heal wounds as urgently as that. To—
My train of thought stagnated as I remembered that I was in a hospital and there was a blood bag hanging right above my head.
However, it was someone else’s blood. “Which is also flowing through my veins,” That didn’t mean that it was mine. “But it could be,”
I put my feet on the ground and stood up slowly. The nurse was right to ask me to lie down. I felt a pinch in my abdomen upon standing. It was more annoying than painful, but it gave me quite a scare. I was only unwinding the cord around the blood bag and even that took its toll on my body. That hardened my resolve. I didn’t want to deal with this annoyance for a second longer. At this point, I also noticed that there was only 100 ml of blood left in the bottle. This was not a coincidence.
No wonder it was only an E-level task. It would have been a D-level task if there was no blood bag and I had to get the blood from my body. I could have died too.
It would have been a different story if I had Wolverine’s regenerative factor. Then it would have been a P-level task, where p stood for pathetic.
I unwound the cord and pull the tip out of the blood bag. The task was to drink the blood, not to inject it into my vein. As if that wasn’t disgusting enough. Was there any difference between the two? Shaking my head, I sat down on the bed with the blood bag in my hand and unease building in my heart. I felt like I was going out of my mind. It was real blood, thick and bright red. I gulped the unease and tremblingly sucked at the end of the blood bag.
My eyes remained focused on the blood strolling inside the bag before it fell on my tongue and my mind went blank. Everyone has tasted some blood in their life when they cut the inside of their mouth or when their tooth breaks. Or when they cut their finger and their friends or parents tell them to suck on the cut.
This blood, however, tasted a little off. It was cold, somewhat salty, and filled my nose with a pungent odor. I pulled my head back in disgust. So horrible was the taste! I couldn’t engulf. The blood was too thick and slimy. My envy for Vampires ended right then. I couldn’t imagine how they could drink blood in relish, almost to the point of having orgasms. There was also that the vampires weren’t real and were just a figment of someone's imagination. Someone who knew that stale blood tasted horrible.
The truth was that I couldn’t drink the blood anymore.
I looked around for help and found a water bottle standing tall on the table. My savior. The bottle was half-full. I didn’t know who had drank the rest of it but that didn’t stop me from standing up and grabbing it off the table. The idea was simple. The blood wouldn’t taste so horrible after diluting it with water, right?
I shoved the broken end of the bag into the bottle's mouth and squeezed all the blood into the water bottle. The thick and heavy blood broke through the water tension, penetrating deep into the water body before rapidly spreading and mixing with the water. Before long, the blood bag was squashed empty and the water bottle contained stark red liquid with the consistency of orange juice.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I stared at the water bottle for a moment before hurriedly shoving the sharp end of the cord back into the empty blood bag and hanging it back from the stand. That maneuver took some breath out of my chest and made my heart race. Ignoring the physical discomfort and sitting back on the bed, I hurriedly started shaking the water bottle to thoroughly mix the two liquids. Then after a moment of hesitation, opened the cap and gulped down my new iron and egg-flavored protein drink in a single breath. No more dilly-dallying.
The mixture tasted milder and tolerable. It no longer stuck to my throat and made me gloomy. I still felt like puking I should mention, but that didn’t stop me from finishing it down to the last drop before and without anyone barging in on me.
I spoke too soon. I was taking the last few gulps when the door opened and my parents came back.
“The doctor told you to lie down. Why are you sitting up again?” My mother cursed from the door.
Her voice was more anxious than angry. I almost pissed in my gown anyways, thinking I was dead. A shiver almost made me spurt out the red bloody water at them. I held it down, and knowing there would be no explaining if they found out what I was doing, hurriedly drank down the mouthful. However, I was still too careless.
“What are you drinking?” My father asked curiously. He was staring.
“Water,” I said or implied, but I finished the contents of the bottle.
“Let me throw it for you,” Father said walking over, not giving me a choice. He grabbed or snatched the water bottle out of my hand and started walking out of the room.
My mother looked over at him doubtfully. “Where are you going?”
“There is a dustbin by the corner outside,” My father answered.
“Oh,” My mother responded before my father walked out of the room.
“Did the doctor say anything about me?” I asked my mother, failing to see anything suspicious about their interaction. I was too focused on my problems.
“Huh?” She said. “He didn’t say anything. We only talked about your diet and how to take care of the wound after your discharge.”
My mother was a bit distracted. Almost as if, there was something on her mind.
We were just talking when the door opened and my father walked back accompanied by a familiar pot-bellied man. My mother froze upon seeing the man. She glared at him, showing him that his presence wasn’t welcome.
The man was the person whose money I had helped recover. He carried a sheepish grin on his face and held his hands clasped together in front of his chest. Almost like he was praying for my well-being. He was stunned to see me alive and kicking and almost broke down crying.
“You are fine.” The pot-bellied uncle said tremblingly. He fell to his knees with his hands clasped in front of his chest and started praying. “Thank you, Lord Shiva. Thank you for your grace.”
“Please don’t do that,” I said worriedly.
“Stand up sir,” My father also went to hold the man, but he was not having it. My father got him to his feet somehow, and even then he kept thanking Lord Shiva for helping me tide over my troubles.
It was an embarrassing and awkward moment. I believed Lord Shiva felt the same because they probably didn’t have anything to do with my situation either. It didn’t seem like the man was going to stop anytime soon either so I had to distract him.
“Ah,” I said slapping my head. “Between everything I forgot to ask-- what happened to the thief? Did you retrieve the money, uncle? How was your son’s operation? How is he?”
“Yes, yes,” The man said coming out of his stupor. “Thank you,” he said again as if he hadn’t thanked me enough already. “I got the money. I had to go to the police station to file the report but I was able to pay for the operation in time. With Lord Shiva’s grace, the operation was also a success.”
“It’s good that everything ended on a happy note.” My father said to end this matter.
My mother wasn’t having it. She responded by crossing her arms around her chest and snorting out in disagreement.
I smelled gunpowder in the air and jumped out again to guide the conversation. What a heavy task the adults had left to the silly little me.
“What was your son’s surgery?” I asked hopefully. “If you don’t mind me asking,”
The question made the man sigh. “My Abhi urgently needed a heart stent. If— if you hadn’t helped-- you saved his life,” The man fell to his knees again. This time, thanking me instead of Lord Shiva.
I saw my mother’s face melt upon hearing the story. I believe his son's name had a lot more to do with it, but I didn’t interfere anymore.
The man continued humbly, “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped. I’m not a selfish guy. I’m thankful to you for helping us but I’m also sorry that you got hurt. If only I hadn’t been so careless.” He said and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
My father pulled him to his feet again. “You can’t do anything in situations like this. You can only take things as they come and continue walking. We can’t fight fate after all.”
“Yes, Yes!’ The man agreed. “You are right. Fate determines everything.”
He was just another humble middle-class man who was barely making do and couldn’t even stop just a few gusts of wind could rock his life away. He would have lost his everything if fate hadn’t brought me in his tracks. It made me feel fearful and humble in front of destiny. The design of fate was all-encompassing and unchangeable.
However, I also knew that fate wasn’t done with me yet. The system wouldn’t let me go so easily. If anything, my days were just starting. It made me fearful and excited thinking about all the people I would help along the way.
“Is your son admitted to the same hospital?” I asked.
The man was stunned at first but also happy at the same moment.
“He’s still in the ICU. They are going to keep him there for a day until his condition stabilizes before moving him to the general ward.” saying that he turned to my father, “Sir, actually I wanted to talk to you about something. If you could come outside for a minute,”
My father hesitated at first before agreeing with a nod. “I was leaving anyway. You take care,” He told me. “Don’t move around too much. Your mother will be here.”
“Take her home,” I protested. “I know she has been here since last night. Let her rest.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” My mother interjected. “I’m fine. I’ll go back with Abhey when he comes.”
“There really is no need.” I protested too. “I’m fine now. You are more in need of rest than I am. You probably only went back home in the morning to cook breakfast before coming back again here, didn’t you?”
She was stunned that I knew that. “How do you know?”
“It’s obvious,” I didn’t even have to use a skill. “You should go back now. The doctor said I’m fine. I can even get discharged tomorrow if nothing changes overnight. Just send Abhey over when he comes back from school.” I could see her hesitating and pressed harder. “Go home, Ma. Come back later with Abhey if you want to. What if you got sick and had to be kept here under observation for a today or two? I don’t think I can digest another day of the hospital's meal. Besides, you know what kind of things father cooks.”
“I’m a bad cook now?” My father said jokingly. “Let’s see you brothers ask me to cook you chicken next time.”
“By the way,” I asked my mother. “Could you send my physics book, a pen, and a notebook with Abhey later?”
My parents looked at each other in confusion. “Don’t you mean your laptop?” My father asked.
“Nah, just the books, thanks,”
“Did he hit his head too?” I heard my mother murmur and reacted as any sensible person would. I ignored it. Even though a brain itch told me to announce my awesome academic results, I curbed it down. It wouldn’t have accomplished anything. Anyone with two neurons could pass a test or two. I wanted to see their faces after topping the board exam. That would make them happy, right? I was hoping for it.
Eventually, my mother agreed to go back. The adults went out of the room and I saw the man talking to my father through the viewing glass in the door. He was trying to push an envelope to my father, which my father kept declining no matter how hard the uncle pushed.
The man probably felt responsible for me getting stabbed and wanted to pay for some of my expenses, but my father looked adamant and didn’t take the money. Eventually, the man took the envelope back and thanked my father again before they all went out of my sight.
I remembered the water bottle and hoped my father find anything suspicious inside. It made my heart beat a little faster. I wished I had been a bit more prudent. I admonished myself for acting so poorly. I could have gone to the adjoined bathroom to get my fill of blood. Thankfully, nothing too bad happened.
At least I had the room to myself once again. This time, no one was going to disturb me for a while. I looked at the time on the phone. It was 12:02 pm and I was ready to check out the system notifications flashing in my sight.