Chapter 7：Decisions, Decisions

"No, I won't allow it."

"But grandpa-"

"No."

Exasperated, Rosalind turned her back to her grandfather.

"Why not?"

Grandfather looked up from his newspaper, his gaze held thousands of emotions that he refuse to voice.

"Rosy, I will not let my only grandchild to go into the war."

"Didn't you read Titus's letter (see prologue)? It sounds like he is in a graveyard and it's been, what, six months now? It doesn't seem to be improving and they need help."

"Why? You do not even know most of them and you're going to risk your life for people you don't know?" Grandfather shook his head. "No, I won't allow it. You're needed here. Your own people and family need you here and you're doing an amazing job."

"All I'm doing is helping the women as they give birth and just some minor sicknesses here and there. Any of the midwives can do that."

"You're exhausted from doing that. Imagine in the battle field? Everyday there will be an emergency, every minute."

"Bu-"

"They aren't going to treat you kindly just because you are a woman or because you are there to help. You're safer here."

There was a finality in his voice that left no room for more arguement.

Frustration built up in her and she ran to her garden. Heat rushing to her face as her insides feel like they're on fire.

Sitting under her orange tree, she tried to calm herself down.

Grandfather's right you know?

"Yeah I know. I know he doesn't mean to dismiss me like that. But I also understand how privileged I am."

She signed and leaned back against the tree.

"Adriel. What do I do?"

What do you think you should do?

"You're very helpful." Rosalind rolled her eyes.

Why do you want to go there? Are you hoping to attain fame, respect, status by helping them?

"No!"

For Titus?

A faint smile came on her face as she remembered him. "Titus, sure. But he's not the only reason."

She stared down at her hands and clinched her fist. She was one of the few women that got the privilege to learn medicine and medical procedures from some of the best in the world but what was the point of it in the end?

What is the other reason?

"I want to help. They are fighting for the safety of our people and I can do something about it but I'm not. I trained for years like a doctor, for what? Just to sit and watch?"

What was the worse case you had?

"A child bit off his tongue."

In the battle field, it will be so much worse than a tongue bitten off.

". . ."

You do not know the limits to your knowledge, do you think you can handle an injury you never saw before?

" . . . I don't know, Adriel. I've just never been given the chance to actually stretch my limits."

Then do you think, if you go there you'll have the chance to experiment? Don't recklessly endanger yourself, or others, when you are still of help here, no matter how small you think it is.

"You're right. I just hate feeling so useless when I might be able to do something."

She rested her head in her hands.

"But Adriel, I have a question."

What is it?

"I can make a deal with you right? A deal where you'll have to grant me two wishes."

How did you know this?

"I read my mother's diary. Did she make a deal with you, Adriel?"

Yes. But making deals always come at a price and remember, you can't decide on the conditions. It was because of this deal that your mother died. Dont risk it.

Rosalind sat there in complete silence. Questions swirl around her, of which she knew not the answers to. She continued to sit there even as the sun went to bed.

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"Someone! Help! Please!"

Jumping up from her seat under the tree, Rosalind ran to the gate and opened it.

Standing at the gate is a young woman. She held a bundle in her arms. The light from the street lamps illuminate her tear soaked face and something is dripping from the bundle.

"Come in. Come in."

She carefully entered in, leaving a trail of some liquid behind her.

"Is everything alright?" Concern laced her expression.

The woman shook her head and in a voice filled with desperation said, "No, please help me." She gestures to the bundle in her arms.

Gently, she pulled back the covers to see a small boy and, with the light from the front porch, could make out that he is covered in blood.

"Come inside. Grandma!" Rosalind took the child in her arms and ran inside the house.

"What is it ?" Grandmother called from the kitchen.

"We have a guest. Please see to her." She took the boy into a room, leaving the woman in the living room to be tended by her grandmother.

Grandmother gasps upon seeing the woman but doesn't question anything. She fixed her a warm cup of tea and sat with her while some of the maids ran into the same room to help Rosalind.

She looked at the woman and kneeled down to her.

"Excuse me. Is it alright if I asked what happened?"

The woman looked very young, not much older than Rosalind is. She burst into tears.

"He . . . he . . . he was run over by an army vehicle. I tried to stop him. It was an accident. I . . . I'm sorry."

"It's ok." Grandmother comforted her. "It's ok. My granddaughter will take care of him."

"What if she can't?" She wailed.

"She'll be able to. This is my granddaughter we're talking about. Have faith."

"I'm not going to be able to do this."

The boy is not in a good condition at all. She could not stop the blood no matter what she tried.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she felt his pulse weaken.

"He has Vascular Trauma and hemorrage is beginning to form."

"You can't quit now. You're mother is still waiting for you. Come on. We need to make a graft."

"He's loosing too much blood, he's gonna need a transfusion." One maid exclaimed.

" . . . mommy. . ."

"Yes . . . Yes, mommy. She's waiting for you."

"What's his blood type? Go and ask his mother!"

" . . . mommy. . ."

"Yes. Try to stay alive. Don't let it yourself fall asleep. Damn it! Where is she?!"

"She doesn't know his blood type!"

Rosalind stared at her in disbelief.

"We have to take him to the hospital! We can't just put any blood into him."

"The nearest hospital is five hours away. We won't make it even if we leave now."

The boy gasped, and threw up blood.

"His lung is filling with blood!"

Rosalind stood and stared at the little boy laying on the table. Nothing they were doing is working. Where was all her medical knowledge now?

Wait.

"Rosa. I don't think he's going to make it. There's too much blood loss."

"Stable him as much as you can!"

She ran out of the room, wiping her tears mixed with blood.

She came back not a minute later, determination in her eyes.

"Everyone out."

"But mis-"

"It's alright." She smiled. "Leave it to me and close the door behind you."

Reluctantly, they walked out the door, closing it behind them.

The boy lay convulsing on the bed. Eyes darting everywhere, he attempts to talk but couldn't. Every sound he makes comes out like a gurgle.

She placed her hands on his head and his stomach, willing her nerves to calm down, she closed her eyes. Breathing in and out she relaxed and felt something leave her.

It felt like warm air leaving her, enveloping the boy with it.

Almost immediately, he stopped moving. Rosalind refused to open her eyes, hands shaking. She remained in that position for what felt like hours.

"Mmmm . . . Mommy?"

Rosalind's eyes opened wide.

"He . . . He's alive!"

Bending down she asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy."

Rosalind laid her head down on the table, right beside the boy, laughter filling her entire being.

"Where's mommy?"

"I'll take you to her ok? Let me just check you again."

The boy fell asleep while she was checking his pulse.

He is healed though the scars may take some time to close up completely. Other than that, he will be able to move like any other child.

The woman fell on her knees in front of Rosalind when she saw her son all better. She cried and cried and thanking her and her family endlessly. They spent the night in their house, because it was the break of dawn by the time Rosalind came out.

Grandfather slept through the whole ordeal, unaware of anything that happened but he told the next day that the woman was the wife of one of the soldiers in the front.

He died because of an infected open wound. The army vehicle that ran the boy over also carried dying soldiers, rushing to see their families before it's too late.

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It is the evening of the next day. Rosalind is seated under the tree again, gazing at the sky's change of colours.

"Adriel?"

Hmm?

"Did you see what I did?"

Yes. You were amazing.

"I'm so glad I was able to help him. Though it made me more aware of how little I know."

She stared down at her hands, her finger tips completely lost their colour and turned black. She sighed.

"Years ago, my mother made a deal with you, right?"

Yes.

"What did she ask for?"

. . .

"You can't tell me?"

No.

"How many wishes can a person make after making a deal with you?"

Two. But you have three.

Raising an eyebrow, Rosalind asked, "Why three?"

Your mother. She only made a wish.

No. The consequence you have now is worth the three wishes you have.

"Ah."

"Was it worth it?"

". . ."

"So I have two wishes left?"

Yes.

"Ok, I've made up my mind. I need your help for something else though."

Whatever you need.