HOME | DD

Description
"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
I look up to see a girl hovering outside the door of the compartment. She is young and pretty with large, bright green eyes, and her shoulder-length tawny coloured hair tied in a ponytail, leaving her bangs out to frame her small face. She was dressed simply in cherry red jeans and a white t-shirt with the words 'Don't Panic' written on it in large, friendly letters, and had a large canvas slung over her shoulder.
"Yes, of course", I reply, smiling at her.
She smiles in return, and it lights up her whole face. She sits down opposite to me, and as she is placing her bag on the seat next to her, I spy a familiar blue uniform lying neatly at the top.
"So you work at a hospital?" I say.
She looks up, startled. "How did you-"
I gesture to her bag.
"Oh! Yes, I do. I'm doing an internship in the surgery department. How about you?"
"I'm a surgeon too, actually. Under Dr Hideaki Ishizawa at the Royal London."
"That's where I work too! I haven't seen you though. Why is that?"
"I've been on leave since the start of the year".
She waits for me to give a further explanation, but when none is forthcoming, she drops the matter, and instead asks me how long I has been a surgeon for.
"It'll be, hmm, let me see, six years I believe".
"Do you enjoy it?"
"I wouldn't change jobs for anything in the world", I say, smiling. "So why did you decide to do surgery?"
"I suppose I just love helping people, and surgery seemed the best option for that, seeing as so many people need it". Here her face saddens, her brow furrowing and her gaze slanting downwards. "My mother died when she was having a heart transplant. Something went wrong, and by the time they realised…well, it was too late", she whispers brokenly. Suddenly she looks up, her face and eyes fierce. "That's why I'm going to be a surgeon. So that no one else has to die like my mother did!"
There is silence for a few seconds. Then she blushes, looking down and twirling her fingers in her lap. "Sorry about that. I-"
"It's alright", I say, cutting across her. "It's good to have dreams".
She looks at me, startled, then her eyes soften. "Thank you", she says.

We sit in comfortable silence. She gazes out the window, watching the country rush by, and realises that she never asked me why I became a surgeon. She reiterates her thoughts to me, breaking the silence, and immediately upon hearing my answer regrets asking me.
"I love the feeling of cutting into human flesh", I reply, smiling tranquilly.
"….Sorry, I thought you said-"
"You heard me correctly", I say, cutting across her for a second time.
She stares at me, repulsed.
"Don't you love it? The way the flesh is so soft, yet hard enough to make you use a little force. The way the blood leaks out as you dig deeper and deeper into the body. The overwhelming urge you get to stab someone's heart when you're doing heart surgery-"
"STOP IT!" she screams. "STOP IT!"
She backs away from me, shaking violently, tears flowing from her wide, horrified eyes. Her screams have caught the attention of the other passengers on the train, and a kind-faced woman from the opposite compartment rushes over to calm the girl.
"What is it dear? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.
"He-he-I-" she broke off and buried her face in the woman's shoulder, unable to finish, as I remain in my seat, smiling serenely.

Description
"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
I look up to see a girl hovering outside the door of the compartment. She is young and pretty with large, bright green eyes, and her shoulder-length tawny coloured hair tied in a ponytail, leaving her bangs out to frame her small face. She was dressed simply in cherry red jeans and a white t-shirt with the words 'Don't Panic' written on it in large, friendly letters, and had a large canvas slung over her shoulder.
"Yes, of course", I reply, smiling at her.
She smiles in return, and it lights up her whole face. She sits down opposite to me, and as she is placing her bag on the seat next to her, I spy a familiar blue uniform lying neatly at the top.
"So you work at a hospital?" I say.
She looks up, startled. "How did you-"
I gesture to her bag.
"Oh! Yes, I do. I'm doing an internship in the surgery department. How about you?"
"I'm a surgeon too, actually. Under Dr Hideaki Ishizawa at the Royal London."
"That's where I work too! I haven't seen you though. Why is that?"
"I've been on leave since the start of the year".
She waits for me to give a further explanation, but when none is forthcoming, she drops the matter, and instead asks me how long I has been a surgeon for.
"It'll be, hmm, let me see, six years I believe".
"Do you enjoy it?"
"I wouldn't change jobs for anything in the world", I say, smiling. "So why did you decide to do surgery?"
"I suppose I just love helping people, and surgery seemed the best option for that, seeing as so many people need it". Here her face saddens, her brow furrowing and her gaze slanting downwards. "My mother died when she was having a heart transplant. Something went wrong, and by the time they realised…well, it was too late", she whispers brokenly. Suddenly she looks up, her face and eyes fierce. "That's why I'm going to be a surgeon. So that no one else has to die like my mother did!"
There is silence for a few seconds. Then she blushes, looking down and twirling her fingers in her lap. "Sorry about that. I-"
"It's alright", I say, cutting across her. "It's good to have dreams".
She looks at me, startled, then her eyes soften. "Thank you", she says.

We sit in comfortable silence. She gazes out the window, watching the country rush by, and realises that she never asked me why I became a surgeon. She reiterates her thoughts to me, breaking the silence, and immediately upon hearing my answer regrets asking me.
"I love the feeling of cutting into human flesh", I reply, smiling tranquilly.
"….Sorry, I thought you said-"
"You heard me correctly", I say, cutting across her for a second time.
She stares at me, repulsed.
"Don't you love it? The way the flesh is so soft, yet hard enough to make you use a little force. The way the blood leaks out as you dig deeper and deeper into the body. The overwhelming urge you get to stab someone's heart when you're doing heart surgery-"
"STOP IT!" she screams. "STOP IT!"
She backs away from me, shaking violently, tears flowing from her wide, horrified eyes. Her screams have caught the attention of the other passengers on the train, and a kind-faced woman from the opposite compartment rushes over to calm the girl.
"What is it dear? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.
"He-he-I-" she broke off and buried her face in the woman's shoulder, unable to finish, as I remain in my seat, smiling serenely.