Just Another Night

                                    

                                          
   Will had always wanted to help people. When he was three, his mother had showed him how to bandage minor cuts and scrapes. When he was five, he proudly told her he wanted to be a doctor for Halloween. Now, Will worked in the medical field and he had learned that the monsters people dressed up as for Halloween were less frightening then the monsters who never had to put on a mask to be evil. 
                          
        It was a quarter past midnight and Will's shift was just getting started, but he had already helped keep someone with a stroke alive until they arrived at the hospital and bandaged someone up who had badly hurt themselves. Will liked to help people, but sometimes his job dragged him down. It was hard to be upbeat when he saw so much suffering.
                          
     The next emergency call took them to an apartment complex. The owner of the complex had heard a loud noise and found one of his tenants lying on the floor of his apartment. Will followed the owner to the apartment. The tall, gruff man opened it up and Will's eyes caught sight of a figure sprawled out on the floor. His blonde hair was tinted red with his own blood and his t-shirt was soaked.
                          
     Will crouched dorm beside the man and felt his pulse. It was weak. The man was breathing shallowly. Will took out some some gauze and bound it around the man's chest to help staunch the flow of blood. It was only a temporary measure, but Will knew that temporary measures sometimes led to permanent measures and prevented permanent, unwanted consequences.
                          
      "What's his name?" Will asked as he and the owner laid the man onto a stretcher.
                          
      "Luke Castellan," the owner said. "He's lived in my apartment complex for three years. He works at the Post Office. I've never had any problems with him."
                          
      "Maybe someone else does," the owner added, pointing to a gun lying on the floor.
                          
       "Why would they leave it behind?" Will asked. "No, most gun deaths are suicide. I've seen them many times. They're gruesome."
                          
    "God, that must be tough," the owner said as he and Will carried the stretcher bearing Luke down to the ambulance.
                          
    The ambulance driver revved up the engine as Will placed the stretcher in the back of the car. The ambulance started to move and Will checked Luke's pulse again. The man's breathing seemed a bit stronger, but he still looked incredibly pale and weak.
                          
     Luke coughed and his eyes fluttered open. They were blue and incredibly sad. 
                          
     "Where am I?" he asked weakly.
                          
      "In an ambulance," Will said. "We're taking you to the hospital."
                          
    Luke cursed and said, "Why do all of my plans fall apart? I just wanted to die."
                          
    Will squeezed the man's hand.
                          
   "Maybe you can find a reason to live," he said.
                          
    "How can I?" Luke asked and Will thought of how many others had asked the very same question.
                          
     "Because there must be someone who wants you alive," Will said. "And I'll make sure they aren't disappointed."