Rafael's POV
The thing about volunteering in a war zone was that every second felt like a ticking bomb.
We had to be prepared for death. The patients' and our own.
The world looked at a war zone and saw nothing but misery.
Yet somehow, amid all the agony, I found a small sense of salvation in saving lives.
I'd already lost track of how many days I'd spent wearing surgical scrubs and working inside this tiny hospital with its painfully limited equipment.
I remembered changing out of blood-soaked clothes at night and walking into an operating room.
But now, as I stepped out of another surgery, the sky was still wrapped in its deepest darkness.
How many days?
How many patients?
I'd lost count.
Or maybe I'd already lost myself.
"Make way! Gunshot victim coming through!" The shout cut through the corridor like an alarm.
I turned immediately.
A young doctor was straddling the patient on the gurney, performing CPR while three other medical staff pushed the bed at full speed.
