The Mercy part 3/4

 For the first time I could remember, I pushed myself out of her embrace not out of embarrassment but out of anger. "You're asking me to kill a man, some stranger I don't even know," I said glaring at her as if she were a monster. And perhaps she was a monster. What kind of parent asks their 15 year old child to kill someone. "And for what reason? To punish him? You want to turn me into a monster that goes around killing the bad people!"

She shook her head and smiled. "You kids still think the world is split between good and evil like those comic books you love to read. The Mercy isn't meant to punish the wicked. Mr. Gilroy is serving his punishment for the crime he committed. Then he developed his illness. The corrections board didn't follow my treatment instructions and it progressed too far for him to ever recover." She turned to face the man. "He's in constant pain. There's nothing more we can do for him."

My hands trembled, angry. Angry that such a burden was placed on me for a curse I never asked for. Angry that I'd never be normal like the rest of my family. Angry that I knew she was holding something from me. Just so angry. And in that anger I lashed out. "Why can't you use The Gift to heal him? Why can't you call someone else to do it? What did I do wrong? Is it because you won't get paid if you save a criminal? That he just doesn't have the right insurance plan?"

My head recoiled as an explosion struck my face. I don't think mom realized she slapped me until she saw me clutching my cheek. In her eyes burned a rage I'd never seen in her before. "Don't you ever speak to me that way," she said, her hand raised and shaking. She lowered her hand and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. The silence stretched and the world stood frozen until she opened her eyes. The rage in them still lingered like a threatening storm but her voice was calm. "'Save those you can. Ease the rest.' That is the Healer's Creed. We are Healers but all of us have our limitations. Your father knew his limitations -" she stopped, forcing back a tear.

Mom walked over to me and bent to a knee. She'd never talked about how Dad died, just that he was a brave man when he passed. She looked up at me and for the first time told me the truth. It poured from her like a waterfall. "Your father knew his limitations. The Gift tells us when we've hit our limit and can do no more for our patients. One night he tried to push himself passed it to save a woman under his care. He knew the injuries she sustained were life-threatening and he'd never attempted anything like it before. But he couldn't step back and watch her die. So he placed his hands upon her with The Gift. After a few hours, he died. His heart just gave out and he collapsed on the floor. The woman managed to hold on for another day and then she died too."

The burden finally eased, she stood and looked back to Mr. Gilroy lying in the hospital bed. Handcuffs manacled him to the bed, useless though they were. "'Save those you can. Ease the rest.' It is our creed for a reason. We can't fight against our limitations, bravely though your father did try. We can only save those our individual Gifts will allow."

I moved to stand next to my mom, taking her hand. "Is that what I'm supposed to be? The second part of the creed? 'Ease the rest'," I said, still watching Mr. Gilroy.

She gripped my hand tighter. "Your uncle is the same, possessed with The Mercy. Though the rest of the family shuns him, I understand the burden placed on my brother. The same that's now placed upon you."

With a gentle tug, mom pulled me forward and we walked to Mr. Gilroy's bedside. The man still lay flat, a bead of sweat running down his head. He turned to face us, his breath unsteady with every movement.

I looked away from the man and back to my mom. "So how does it work?" I asked.

She looked down at me. "Same as with The Gift. You just put your hand upon your patient and focus. The Mercy does the rest easing him into death."

I let go of her hand and reached out to take Mr. Gilroy's shackled hand. Then I stopped, hesitated, my hand hovering above his. I looked back and found my mom already staring back at me.