False intentions.

9.00am Monday morning, 7th of March 2005.

He stood looking out the window, it was a beautiful day for an award presentation. But he wasn’t interested in either, the day nor the award. Why did people constantly seek out a messiah? Someone to uphold as a symbol of everything good and just. Would they still see him that way, when they discovered the truth? Not that he minded what people thought, it just rubbed him the wrong way to be viewed in such a light. There was nothing he detested more than sanctimonious people who stood up for what was right even at the cost of losing money or fame. You only lived once and you make your own fate whatever it takes.

15  years earlier.

                Two faced intentions. Source: http://www.clker.com/clipart-30136.html

The neighbourhood was known for violence, drugs, teen pregnancy, rape and gang fights. It could be said to be the police and ambulance service headquarters, a day never went by without multiple visits by both agencies. Some proved timely others were didn’t sometimes just a few seconds late. Everyone dreaded being called out there. Not only were you under physical threats, emotionally each experience left you drained as there never was a perfect resolution of each case.

Ethan wasn’t surprised when his decision to open a clinic in said neighbourhood was met by hostility from his family. As a Donovan he could get a job in any hospital he wanted in Detroit, why he would choose to start his own clinic in such a deprived and dangerous environment was beyond his families comprehension. It wasn’t his initial plan but when Max had told him about his plans, he found it hard to pass up the offer. His name would be written on the sands of time hopefully his father won’t have anything to do with it. And it won’t be for  putting people  ahead of his needs but for supporting medical experiments frowned upon by the present generation.

1200 noon, Monday 7th of March 2005.

He had become the man he wanted to be, all by his own effort. The hospital had become a landmark, a structure of hope. The last fifteen years had proved tough but it had paid off. Fifteen years of treating the people of Detroit. The abortion rates and patients coming through A & E had been high, It still was today when compared with other neighbourhoods. His hospital had worked to decrease the number of people who died from botched abortions and quack practitioners mending victims of violent crimes in the back quarters of their home. Hence the award presentation today by the mayor extolling him as the ideal citizen and hero of the neighbourhood.

If only they knew the hospital was a smokescreen. It was a green house for harvesting unborn foetuses and  organs from dying patients for black market sales. It was easy to get away with it, most of his patients had no one to hold him accountable if things didn’t add up. They had been one or two cases were his staff had tried to question him, unfortunately they ended up next to the patient in the morgue. He wasn’t heartless, just a doctor with a ruthless bedside manner. If people were careless enough to play with their lives, he was wise and opportune to rip a dividend from their pain.

He mentally spat on the award, it was a charade he cared nothing for. The only reason he hadn’t funded the drug ring was his deep attachment to the title of a doctor and the family tradition.  He had only  wanted to enrich himself (to be honest  it had exceeded his expectations) not save people.

The eternal spirit of negation.  (The image, drawn by Julius Nisle, is in the public domain.)

In response to the blacklight candelabra writing challenge titled “Mephistopheles and the Road to Heaven”. I am part of that power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.” —Mephistopheles (In Faust I by Joann Wolfgang von Goethe)


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