Trauma

By Eric Jones, Jr.

I look at the broken body in front of me. Bloody, riddled with holes, unmoving.

This person had a life, family and loved ones, unaccomplished goals, aspirations, unique viewpoints.

A multitude of emotions wash over me.

Remorse.

Sadness.

Anger.

Relief.

At least the suffering had ended here. In this chaotic room with supplies thrown this way and that way, paraphernalia littering the floor.

I gather up my belongings ready to flee the scene.

“Delta trauma incoming, five minutes,” the voice blared overhead.

Standing up straighter and smoothing out my scrubs, I compose myself.

Time for redemption.

Time to save a life.