Resurgence of Strength
713 Words
When Mark awoke, the morning light was already filtering in through the window. He massaged his temples for a moment, remembering the dizzy spell following his mental intervention with the patient—an unexpected blackout after the effort. Yet his body felt unusually refreshed and content, devoid of the typical ache from overextending his abilities.
Feeling an odd sensation, Mark sat up in bed. With a mere thought, he summoned a tangible glow of mental energy into a pulsing sphere in his palm. "Has my mental strength really increased…?" he pondered, puzzled by the sudden amplification.
He seldom used his mental capabilities, knowing full well their inherent limitations. But the barrier he'd consistently faced now seemed to have vanished, leaving a warm surge coursing through him.
Focused, he tightened his grip around the light ball, watching it fragment into several smaller orbs, each one subjected to his examination with no apparent irregularities.
A knock interrupted his musings, pulling him back to present. A nurse peered in, "Good morning, sir. How are you feeling?"
Distracted, Mark dismissed the light orb with a wave. "Much better, thank you. Is Dr. John around?" John had recommended the mental intervention—he was the patient's primary doctor.
"In the ICU," the nurse replied. "Your breakfast will arrive soon. You can speak to him after you've eaten."
"Understood. Thank you," Mark said, getting out of bed and grabbing the fresh clothes laid out for him. As he headed to the bathroom, one of the forgotten light spheres accidentally drifted into a vase beside the bed. Moments later, a wilting lily slowly resurrected, its stalk straightening and petals regaining freshness.
*
Following the path he'd memorized, Mark returned to the patient's room from the previous day. He pushed open the door, only to find the patient’s spot shielded by drawn curtains.
"Doctor?" He hesitated, noticing a brief movement behind the drapery before it quickly settled.
Mark's curiosity piqued, and he laid a hand on the curtain, uncertain whether Dr. John was conducting an examination. "Dr. John?"
"Yes, yes," came the reply, and the curtain was drawn back. Dr. John, his hair tousled into a careless mess, looked unflustered. "I was just checking some delicate areas—that’s why the curtain."
"Delicate…?" Mark was momentarily taken aback. "And the results?"
Dr. John's eyes flickered briefly, pausing inexplicably before turning back to the chart. "No concerns for now, rest assured."
Shifting his gaze to the patient's record, John changed the subject. "The patient's condition has stabilized a bit but remains grim."
"The hospital can no longer provide assistance. Would you consider taking him home?"
Mark glanced at the patient. Though pale, his injuries seemed less severe, no longer promising an imminent demise.
He was silent for a moment. "If I leave him here, will the hospital proceed with him as before?"
"Yes."
Such was the institution's policy—and society’s view—concerning those deemed "valueless": unwilling to use resources for assistance and devoid of unnecessary sympathy, offering, at most, a minimally painful exit.
Cold and merciless.
Mark hesitated, recalling a slogan about rescuing stray animals he'd seen in his past life—
"Adopting strays means commitment. Understand the responsibility before deciding because abandoning them halfway causes more harm."
He had intended only a temporary aid, not long-term commitment. But now, with his hand extended halfway, letting go meant the patient would surely perish.
"Alright," Mark sighed. "I'll take him with me."
Dr. John arched a brow, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd held. "Very well. I’ll prepare emergency medications for you and note essential care points."
An extensive list of medications followed: hemostatics, antipyretics, emergency aids, sedatives—even hair loss treatments. From his past experiences with caring for animals, these were essential.
Mark glanced at his account balance—his reserves now dwindled by a third since coming to the hospital.
"Sir, don’t worry about transporting the medication. The hospital will deliver them, and the patient, too," John added with a grin.
"Instructions have been dispatched to your device. Contact me anytime for free remote support."
"I appreciate it," Mark replied, perusing the medication list and then impulsively adding, "Another pack of sedatives, please."
...
As he continued down the corridor, Mark sent a text message to—
- Writer
