Game of Passion

Chapter 2: Man

Freira stared at the thick black smoke whirling far ahead. She's getting used to the view.

The m.assacre.

The chaos.

It has been an everyday scene. And it's a bad thing...getting used to it.

This is Arcatran City, the capital of Kislev. It is the most destroyed around the country as the news says. Patria has been advancing slowly and engaging in minor attacks until the war actually happened.

For almost four years of war, there is just no gain from it.

Death, destruction, poverty. All are negative effects.

She can't imagine how they would pick themselves up after all of these.

"Freira," Nancy called.

She turned, waking up from her thoughts. Smoothing her hair to the inside of her cap, she walked towards the woman.

"Is there something for me?" she asks, hopeful.

Nancy looked down at the handwritten letters in her hand. "Nothing." The woman breathed. "I'm sorry."

She forced a smile. "It's alright." She remains hopeful though, even when every week is a disappointment.

"Doctor Harrington wants to see you by the way," Nancy said.

"His office?" she asked which the woman nodded as an answer.

It is a horrendous sight walking down the hall which is now used as a space for more injured men. Day by day, the number of patients increases and though it is not advisable to have them lie down side by side, there is no choice because there is no more place to spare.

Passing by patients on their dreadful conditions, Freira had to reel in her emotions. She once was among them, on bed and suffering. Now, she has recuperated but unfortunately, still has no recollection of the past. All she ever remembered is her name...if it really is her name. Ever since forcing herself to get information about her own identity, she did not have anything more.

Knocking twice when she reached the Doctor's office, she cleared her throat before speaking. "Doctor Harrington, it's Freira."

"Come in."

She went inside and almost lost her footing upon hitting a box on the floor.

"I have no time to clean the room," Flynn said, looking at her as she looks at the mess which is his office.

"I can help you clean," she volunteered, confused about where to step.

"It's alright. I am not finished researching anyway so it'll be useless cleaning it." Flynn turned his swivel chair to open the window behind him. "Take a seat, Freira."

She pressed her lips as she contemplates stepping on the stacks of paper.

Turning and seeing her distress, Flynn chuckled and stood up. He walked towards her and offered his hand. She took it immediately.

"Don't be scared to ask for help, Freira. Learn to rely on others sometimes," Flynn said as he points where she would step without letting go of her hand.

She does not like relying on other people though. When she was still in bed, she felt useless while Nancy tends to her. That's why now, she felt like she has to give back to their kindness.

Once she was settled on a chair, Flynn squeezed her hand gently before letting go and walking back to his seat. "How are you feeling?" His usual question.

"The same."

It has been a year since she gained consciousness. She healed up fast since she had small wounds all over her body. The only thing that kept her admitted long in the hospital is her head injury. With nowhere else to go, Doctor Flynn offered her to work in the hospital. In that way, he could also monitor her. Though he does not necessarily let her do the heavy work since he does not want to tire her as well.

"I hope they are not pressuring you much or anything," Flynn continues.

"Nancy is always with me so my work is based on what she asks me to do."

"Good." Flynn shifted from his seat. "Anything new?"

He's pertaining to her memories.

Flynn may have been occupied with patients coming in more and more day by day but he never misses every week to check if she remembers anything. He remains constant with his questioning and keeps track of some details she shares if there are any.

She shook her head, answering his question. He lets out a deep sigh as he stared down at his desk intently.

Watching his misery from the lack of progress on her condition, Freira cannot stop but admire the man. From the very start, he was there to treat and guide her. He is always been nothing but good and gentle. She admires his dedication to making certain that she gets better.

"You can go back to your post now. I'll call for you again next week," he said, raising those striking green eyes at her.

"Thank you, Doctor—"

"It's Flynn, Freira," he interjects. "It's been a year and you're not used to calling me by my name."

Because it's uncomfortable.

She cannot deem herself to call him by his name. It's too casual and personal. And she respects him too much.

"Flynn." She abruptly stood up when the name came out from her lips. "I should go."

He just nodded but his eyes never left her. Wanting to get away from his joyless eyes, she cleared her throat and started to walk. Knowing where to step desire the clatter, she got out of the room fast. She took a deep breath before walking back to her post.

According to Nancy, Doctor Flynn Harrington was assigned to this hospital a few weeks after she was admitted. No one really knows him that much. He is too aloof and busy that no one had the chance to know him well. However, he is different from her. He is not aloof, he tries his best to make her comfortable, to make her smile when the weight of not remembering anything pins her down.

She saw Nancy pushing down a cart not far away from her. Hurrying, she reached the woman and helped it move.

"Food distribution?"

"Uhum," Nancy answered. "You push the cart and I do the distribution."

Their post is on the third floor. That is where they usually stay and follow whatever orders coming from the doctors and the head nurse. She wouldn't say she's a nurse. She's more like a helper. But she is confident that she is learning from the months she's been here.

"Hello, dear. How's your arm?" Nancy asks, engaging in conversation as she gives food to every patient.

Nancy is always warm and comfortable to be with. You won't be able to miss her presence. Not only does she have the looks but she also has the personality which everybody likes.

"F.ucking get out!"

She jumped by that yell followed by a crash a few cubicles away from them. A couple of nurses backed away from the place, not wanting to get involved.

"He's bitching out again," Nancy murmured. "New admit. His left arm was badly injured and had to be amputated right on the battlefield. He hasn't eaten anything yet ever since he was transferred here yesterday," the woman said, filling her in.

She pushed the cart further and as Nancy gives food to other patients, she was all ears on that particular one's cries. It was obvious that he was hurting but he's not the only one. By the time they reached him, Nancy was frozen on her spot, holding the tray just right outside the curtain of the man's cubicle.

"I'll do it," she volunteered which had Nancy looking at her in both surprise and relief.

"He's hard to handle. Last time, he threw the food right on my face."

She chuckled and took the tray from the woman. "I won't make that happen to me. You can finish up while I make him eat."

"Are you sure?"

"Just go," she said, laughing.

Nancy pushed the cart to the next patient, looking at her for a while before turning her head in front.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly parted the curtain. She wanted to greet him with a smile but it vanished upon seeing the man. Rugged-looking and with a dark face lined with the ruthlessness and tiring past, their eyes instantly met.

She stilled.

Her breathing started to thin, her heart pounding against her chest.

All because of that man.

Who is he?

Flashes of something came back to her memory that only made her head feel like tearing apart.

The tray fell on her feet when she raised her hand, trying to ease the pain. She doesn't know if it was her but a shrill took over the already noisy place. But before she could understand what was happening, her vision blackened and she lost consciousness.