Szeursjin

     The whirring of life support machines drew him in, alerting him of a life about to gutter out like some exhausted, wax candle. The air smelt of blood and tears, tickling his nose with the salty, metallic mixture. However, he barely noticed it – he's grown almost fond of it over the years.     Finally, he stood before the white, hospital curtain that guarded the bed from prying eyes. Drawing it back with his large, gloved hand, his amethyst gaze fell upon his newest victim: a pale, blonde boy whose face was largely obscured by gauze.     "Are you a doctor?" A doubtful voice broke his train of thought, his heart clawing its way up