As I said, only five of the six beds were in use, and of those five, 3 of the patients were lucid and moving. The other two were still, covered in bandages from head to toe, and completely quiet. Seeing the empty bed, I celebrated with a smile and a jump of my brows. I looked back to Samuel, who was still in a state of drunken bliss, and told him in a whisper that we were in luck, and that there was space for him here. He gazed up to me gratefully and without a word, nodded slowly to show me that he heard what I had to say, and from the glow of happiness coming from face, I could tell that he appreciated my help.
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The boy ran to the doctor, who was busy with the yelling man, and pulled his sleeve, “Sir?” he said nervously.
Dr.Snape continued looking over the patient, and merely grunted.
“Sir?” The boy looked at us and shrugged his shoulders, then asked for the doctor’s attention again, this time with some success.
Dr.Snape snapped at the boy, “What? What could you possibly need that is more important than helping this man? Do you know what kind of hell he is in right now?” He grabbed the boy’s front collar and pulled him over to see what he was working on. “You see that boy? You see how burned up his flesh is? How he no longer has skin and all his muscles are exposed to the breeze?” He dropped the boy and continued to examine the man’s wounds. “If you want to be of some assistance, go grab me that needle over there, the one on the shelf, and also grab me that brown bottle.” Dr.Snape then stood and kissed the man’s forehead, telling him that it was going to be alright, and that soon he would not feel a thing. Then, while the boy was rifling through the shelf for the bottle, Dr.Snape noticed me and Samuel. Immediately his face became even more depressed, even more downturend than it was before. His droopy eyes squinted with suspicion. He wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
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