I jerked awake to pounding at my door. I took a deep breath and climbed slowly to my feet, stretching. I felt my back pop before making my way across the small room to open the door, knowing it'd be Grant, looking to get off.
I pulled the door open and was surprised to see not only Grant, but also Ben, another head guard. Between them they dragged an unconscious man, his head hung limply forward.
"What the fuck." I whispered in shock.
Grant shoved me out of the way, as they pushed their way in "About fucking time."
I stared in shock as they dragged the man onto my bed, "Why have you brought him here instead of the infirmary?"
"He's just come through the gate, he killed two of our men on the common road, I want him alive for the arena."
"That doesn't answer my question!" I complained.
"Shut the fuck up and fix him!" Grant shouted, grabbing me by the front of my vest and shoving me towards the bed. I gritted my teeth and reached beneath the bed, pulling out my kit and began cutting away the man's shorts, that's where the bloodstain was so I thought it best to start there. There was a gash rounding from his right hip to his inner thigh. It wasn't particularly deep, but it was several inches long.
"It's not too bad, if someone had bandaged him last night, he'd be conscious now. He's lost a ton of blood but, he should be okay."
Grant gave a bored nod, "As long as he can stand in the arena, I don't give a fuck." He reached down and cuffed the man's hands to the bed, he saw my eyes linger on this, "You'll be fine." He said throwing the key at me, "Come on Ben, I need a drink."
Grant was a dick, but I learnt long ago there was little point in arguing with a guard with a superiority complex. The door shut behind them, leaving me alone with my new patient.
I remained calm and in control as my adrenaline took hold. Squinting in the light from the single hanging bulb, I got to work and immediately began to clean the affected area, cutting away his filthy shorts before deftly stitching the cut closed and dousing it with alcohol. He was so out of it, he didn't react at all, which had me slightly worried, I didn't want the blame for this guy not making it to morning. I propped his knee up so that I could place a sterile gauze over the top and hold it in place by wrapping a bandage around it. I was sliding a pillow beneath his head when my hands began to shake, the adrenaline had begun leaching from my body. I lifted the man's head slightly and poured water into his mouth, relieved when he gave a slight cough. I looked him over, he was filthy. He must have been travelling through the grey-wastes for over a week.
With little else to do, I crossed my small room and took the pot of water from the stove, dipping my finger in to test the temperature. It was still lukewarm, perfect. Placing it beside the man, I soaked a cloth and used it to wipe the dust and dirt from his face. I was surprised to see he was only a few years older than me, no older than thirty. Once clean, I could make out his handsome features, prominent straight nose, strong jaw and high cheekbones. His hair was black and cut close to his head.
His clothes were literally in tatters, he'd be needing new ones. Knowing that the ones he was wearing weren't fit for purpose, I quickly cut them from his body, so I could continue to clean him. He had a tight muscular frame with black hair that covered his chest and tapered off toward his bellybutton, before meeting his crotch. Once the front of him was sufficiently clean I emptied and warmed fresh water before hauling him onto his side, to clean his back. Once done I rolled him back into his original position and placed a blanket over him.
With nothing else to do I plopped myself back into my chair and continued reading one of the many medical books I'd inherited from my mother.
Before she'd passed, she'd been the block's best doctor and I'd spent 21 years learning from her; that now made me one of the best. It didn't come with many perks, except for the fact that most people weren't stupid enough to kill the person who could stitch them back together again. Especially when bodies turned up in Salvation almost daily. Salvation, the irony. Maybe our block had once been the salvation people needed, but now it was a stinking hell hole.
...
It was several hours later, and the sun was beginning to peak above the grey-wastes when I was woken by another knock at the door, my stomach dropped slightly, knowing that knock. As I opened it Grant walked in. Alone this time, and threw himself onto the chair I'd just been occupying, "You sort him out?" He questioned, with a jerk of his head to the man in my bed. I nodded, knowing that he wasn't here for that, he didn't care about the man I'd just saved. He only cared that the barbaric Arena would have contestants. He came here after alone for one thing.
As if on cue he began unbuckling his stained cargo pants, dropping them to the ground before pulling down the waistband of his underwear revealing his cock from beneath them. I knew there was no point in arguing, we'd been here before. He'd politely point out that my medical skills only kept me alive, and that it was him that kept others away. I knew that was true, no one had tried to force themselves onto me for a long time, so I'd decided long ago it was better to be used by Grant rather than anyone stronger than me. My mum always said my face would get me into trouble one day, not that I believed her, I always thought I looked a bit weird, too pale, too skinny, with a bony face. I did like my green eyes though; they were cool.
Grant waved his cock at me expectantly, so I dropped to my knees and took it into my mouth.
...
Grant pushed his now softening dick back into his shorts, climbed to his feet and jerked his head to the man again, "Keep the cuffs on him." I nodded as the door shut behind him and immediately went straight to the sink to wash his taste from my mouth, before curling up beneath a blanket on my chair, and falling back to sleep.
...
