Accidents happen

   The pain in my legs was, for lack of a better word, horrible. Any movement caused me awful pain, so I had to learn to be still or to move only from the waist up, twirling that part of my body like a gummy candy. The bed they had assigned for me was, thankfully, larger than myself and very comfortable. It even had a sweet scent that I couldn't point to but that I found really interesting and soothing. I think it may have been vanilla or something very similar because it reminded me of my past. For some reason, that smell help me calm down whenever my legs would start to make me feel as if I was in front of the devil in the depths of hell. It was that bad and, looking back, I can easily say it was one of the worst moments in my life.

 The accident had caused me to stay in that bed for months, in that hospital located in the middle of nowhere. The number of patients changed dramatically during my time there. At one point, I could swear we were not more than twenty people. Later on, it felt like a filled up prison holding more than a thousand inmates. And I talk about prison because that's how it felt like sometimes and the building really did help to that effect. It was one of those relics from some war long ago and they had tried, without much success, to convert it completely to a hospital. Apparently it had also been a mental house, a school, an orphanage and even a place where alcohol would be hidden from the local authorities.

 The history of the place, without a doubt, was very interesting. But during my stay I could only think about when I was going to be released. The doctors told me, through a translator they had called only for my case, that my recovery was going to be so difficult that it was best if I stayed there for several months. All in all, I stayed there for around five months until I was finally released. The doctors and the nurses were not the most loving or soft people in the world but they were very good at what they did. Maybe I didn't see them smile very often but I know that they did the best they could with my case and thanks to them I was able to recover. Of course, my legs still have some moments of "weird behavior", but I have learned to live with that.

 After all, only centimeters and seconds had separated me from being dead. Everytime I think about the accident, I understand everything a little bit less, if that's even possible. Because I have no idea how I got to be fighting for my life, my legs covered in blood and my body just aching with pain. I have no idea how I endured after all of that but here I am, I guess. It happens often after I shower that I sit down on a chair in my bedroom and I look down to them and I see some of the scars, still visible below a not so thick layer of hair. I am thankful to be alive and walking around because I have no idea how the hell they did it, how they made my legs work as if nothing had ever happen to them. It's just amazing.

 I am not a religious person and doubt I will ever be but, during my stay in the hospital and even recently, I have found myself praying somewhere in my house. I had never done that before but I guess that when death has been so close, you just want to cover your bases. And besides that, I really think it was a miracle that I could walk again. I don't think it was the Lord or anything like that that helped me recover, but I cannot find a proper way to understand how it all came up to this. to me writing about this, here and now, as if had been nothing. It just amazes me every day and I think many people that know me and that know about what happened to me, are just as amazed by all of it as I am.

 Even the stay in that dreadful place is something I will keep forever in my heart. Because in that place I learned to love myself for who I am and not for anything else. I learned to settle down, to calm down even and let things fall into place before I rush into anything. I had many sleepless nights, many moments of reflection during days in which I didn't do much. I even met some great people and, towards the end, I also had a temporary lover who helped me in more ways than one to pull it off, to survive what I was going through. It wasn't easy and I won't, ever, forget that it happened because it is one of those pivotal moments in someone's life. It had to be that bad to get a slightly better with time.

Oídos sordos

   No se oye nada. De pronto es idea mía o de pronto sí es algo real. Creo que me estoy quedando sordo.

 No me muevo de la cama. Por alguna razón estoy acostado sobre mi lado izquierdo. Jamás duermo de lado sino sobre mi abdomen, mi pecho, o como sea que quieran llamarle. El caso es que no duermo así, entonces es raro. Me quedo quieto, mirando la pared blanca frente a mi.

 Mis ojos se abren bastante, por primera vez en el día. No veo nada más sino el muro blanco. No hay ni una mancha, no hay nada allí más que la inmensidad de la pintura blanca. Entonces siento el calor y me quito la sabana de encima. Es entonces que me duele y me doy cuenta de dos cosas: hay algo sobre mi cara y, en efecto, no puedo oír nada.

 No me pongo de pie sino que me quedo en la cama, abriendo y cerrando los ojos. Mi mano derecha sube lentamente a mi cara. Me toco el mentón y voy deslizando los dedos por la piel en dirección a mi oído, donde siento la mayor molestia. Debajo del pelo que forma la patilla, siento que la piel está inflamada, muy inflamada. Recuerdo que el día anterior me dolía el oído pero era un dolor que iba y venía, ahora es permanente.

 Está muy hinchado y me empieza a doler, como que todo mi cuerpo se da cuenta que estoy de verdad despierto y que el dolor tiene espacio para empezar a sentirse. Me recorre el cuerpo un escalofrío, que incluso me hace doler el pie y me hace sentir muy extraño. 

 Tomo impulso y me pongo de pie y camino, casi automáticamente, al baño. No es mi casa de siempre, solo me estoy quedando por un tiempo. Pero llego, prendo la luz y trato de mirarme pero es dificil verse los oídos. Me toco de nuevo y me echo agua, pensando que puede que el frío ayude. ¿O será mejor el calor?

 No, lo mejor es salir. Media hora después estoy en la sala de espera de un hospital, el único del que sé la existencia en esta ciudad que no es la mía. Me llaman y me hacen esperar aún más en una pequeña sala donde otras personas se quejan o hacen cara de enfermedad. Parece que todos están malos del estómago o algo por el estilo. No es raro en una ciudad de clima cálido, a la que vienen muchos turistas y comen y se meten en cualquier lado sin observar los mínimos niveles de limpieza.

 Mientras espero me miro los pies. Siento un poco de mareo o de pronto sea yo mismo que me hago sentir peor. Es raro pero así son las cosas en los hospitales. Son sitios horribles y terribles, llenos de quejidos de niños y caras largas de padres cuyas vacaciones han sido arruinadas pero nada pueden decir o sino sonaría muy cruel.

 Tras varios minutos, o tal vez menos o tal vez más, me hace pasar una joven doctora. Se demora más escribiendo en el computador que revisándome como se debe. Prefiero pensar que sabe lo que hace. No hablamos casi, solo me hace unas preguntas básicas y le explico mi dolor y cómo me he sentido en los últimos días. Al parecer no nota nada especial en lo que le cuento porque parece no estar muy interesada. O tal vez sea su cara de "Sí, ya sé de que me habla".

 Llena un papel, me dice que pague la consulta y en la farmacia de la esquina compro lo que me recomienda la doctora. Apenas llego al apartamento me tomo las pastillas con agua y me acuesto de nuevo. Siento hambre pero prefiero no comer nada. Me quedo mirando la pared, con mis pensamientos perdidos en la nada.

 - "Maldita sea..." - pienso. "¡Que bonito comienzo del año!"

Por un momento olvido el dolor y me doy la vuelta. Mala decisión.

In a second

   When she opened her eyes, she saw directly into the fire. The flames were in front of her, making her face feel warmer than she wanted to. As much as she wanted to move or get away, she just couldn’t move. Her body felt extremely heavy and her head felt really big, turning like crazy as she closed her eyes again and tried to convince herself she was not awake but sleeping, deep into one of her very crazy dreams. But she couldn’t do that either. It was all true. The flames danced in front of her and she could only look at them, feeling almost burned.

 Suddenly, she felt her body being pulled away from the car, which had being turned upside down. It hurt as the asphalt of the road caressed her skin and clothes. But she couldn’t complain. She couldn’t say a word even if she wanted to because of how weak she felt. Also, she was very dizzy and couldn’t quite understand what was happening. However, she kept her eyes opened because she just couldn’t close them anymore. The heat of the flames seemed far now and all she felt was the smell of it all, which was awful.

 Suddenly, the car exploded and several parts rained all over the place. One of them fell a bit too close to her face but she didn’t really mind at all. It was as if she was looking at a movie, at something she wasn’t really involved in. Her eyes were open the whole time and her brain worked so slowly she never really asked herself who had pulled her away from wreckage. She was just too shocked to think of anything. After a while, she felt very tired and decided to close her eyes for a moment. She fell asleep and only woke up many hours later in an ambulance.

 It was for long though. The only thing she saw was a very big needle and some blurry guy holding it. Or maybe it was a woman… She had no idea but she did now that a sudden pain invaded her body and then she was immersed again in the world of slumber. She dreamt about an ice cream shop she had loved as a child. Her father used to take her there in secret, as her mother was not very keen on sweets. They would ask for the ice cream and eat it in under thirty minutes, almost as a challenge to themselves before they had to head home.

 She woke up again many hours later, in a hospital bed. This time, the moment she opened her eyes, she felt the strongest headache she had ever felt. It seemed as if it was going to break her head into two parts. The pain was so awful that she screamed and in seconds two nurses came rushing in and injected what was probably a sedative on her IV. She calmed down but the headache was still there. She tried to tell them, tried to explain to them how much it hurt. But no words came out of her mouth. She couldn’t speak a word.

 When she woke up again, it was a very bright day outside. The light rushed into her room and she felt kind of happy to see the light after so much time spent in her dreams. However, her mind was still working slow, as well as her body. She was thankful because the headache had disappeared and she could at least look at the window without feeling a huge pain in her head. She looked on for a long time, so long in fact that the rays of sunlight changed angles as she stared at the world outside of which she couldn’t see very much.

 Outside, the sky was very blue and just a couple of thin clouds floated high above everything. Aside from that, she could only see some building, all made of bricks. She had no idea where she was or how but she was sure it was a safe place. Although, she did wanted to go back home as soon as possible. So much so, that she tried to get out of bed to have a better view of the window in order to know where in the city she was and if she could maybe walk home. She knew there was a hospital near her house, so maybe that was it.

 But when she attempted to move her legs, they didn’t respond. She attributed it to how slow her mind was running, so she decided to take a deep breath and then try again. But again, nothing happened. She looked at her legs and slowly touched them as much as she could. Her arms were not very long and they felt extremely weak, but she reached down as she could in order to verify what was going on. In that precise moment, a nurse entered the room and saw her. She then rushed back out, yelling someone’s name.

 The woman stopped trying to touch her legs and rested her body against the pillows. She felt exhausted and tried to think about what just happened: she couldn’t feel her legs. She couldn’t move them at all. Why wasn’t she reacting more violently to this revelation? Why didn’t she felt compelled to yell or cry or whatever? Her head felt like a balloon, filled with air that didn’t let her think of anything. She pulled her head back and closed her eyes, trying to get back to her last memory before the hospital. But that seemed to be almost impossible.

 The door opened again and this time it was a man dressed in those mint green uniforms that people often used in hospitals. She looked at him quietly, as he checked the machines around him. A nurse was behind him, taking notes. He then checked his patient by looking at her eyes and then checking her ears and skin. He asked for her to pull out her tongue but she didn’t seem to hear or understand what he had said. He tried again but she didn’t do anything.

 Then, he pulled out a very small bottle from his pocket, along with a syringe. He filled it with the liquid in the bottle and injected it directly into her arm. At first, she didn’t feel a thing. But then, it seemed as if whatever that liquid was, it worked as a way to shake people up in the most violent way possible. She suddenly felt pain and many thought rushed into her head. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. Sounds were loud, maybe too loud and the sunlight felt too bright. She covered her face and cried, trying to control what she was feeling.

 After a while, the pain and awkward feelings went away and she knew exactly where she was and what had happened. She was finally aware of everything and not in some sort of trance. Whatever the doctor had put in her bloodstream, it eliminated all the effects from the other shot she had received. She was no longer a peaceful lamb that couldn’t even think for herself. She was her again, with every single memory and pain possible. But she couldn’t remember why she was there. As much as she tried to remember, it seemed hidden somehow.

 The doctor asked her if she knew her name. The woman said it out loud, hearing her own voice for the first time in a while. Then, he asked if she could remember the reason why she was there. She indicated that she couldn’t and asked him to tell her because she was going mad trying to remember, trying to go back to at least a sound or an image or whatever that could help her remember. The doctor said she had been in a car crash, having been expelled out of the car by the force of the impact. That’s why she had some cuts all over.

 When he said it, she looked at her arms and realized that was true: she had small cuts on her skin. And suddenly she remembered the flames and someone pulling her away from them. She told this to the doctor and he asked her if she knew who had done that. She replied that she couldn’t remember a face but that it had probably been her husband. But then the doctor looked at the ground and got closer. He explained his patient that it was not possible that her husband had done it because he had died instantly in the crash.

 The news hit her hard. She started crying and was held by the doctor for a moment. When they separated, she looked at her legs and realized what had happened. She looked at the doctor and he nodded, words being useless at that point. She cried in silence and the doctor left with the nurse. It was a lot to take for her and she was going to need all the time in the world to adjust to the fact that, in a single second, her whole life had been turned upside down, almost destroying her in the process.

The ninja

   The city below was pretty much silent. It was very dark and lonely and the sun wasn’t going to rise for another four hours. People would be starting their day in some time but in those moments they were sleeping, barely imagining what was happening on their rooftops.

 A group of three people were chasing another one that had a very big lead in their chase. The character they were chasing was wearing a ninja outfit, all the uniform being black and his eyes being the only thing the people that were chasing him could distinguish from the darkness of the night.

 As they jumped from one roof to the other, one of the persecutors slipped on the edge of the building and fell backwards, being caught in the last second by one of his peers. The woman that had gotten hold of his ankle, could barely cope with the weight of her companion. The other man that came with them, the one closest to the ninja, stopped short from jumping to the next building and went back to his companions to help the woman lift their buddy to the rooftop.

 The ninja stopped running when he didn’t hear the sound of steps following him anymore. He turned around and looked on, as the man and the woman pulled their friend towards them, saving their life. The ninja blinked several times, very confused. He started to sweat right then, and not before when he was running.

 The man that had almost fallen realized the ninja was looking at them and attempted to stand up and chase him again but as he tried standing up, he felt terrible pain in his ankle, the one that his companion had grabbed him by. Apparently, in all that chaos, he had hurt himself so bad that he couldn’t walk by himself. His two friends helped him up again and, when he tried to locate the ninja again, he didn’t saw anyone anywhere.

 Hours later, the persecutors were in a hospital. The one in the bed, named Kevin, was asleep and the other two, Martha and Philip, were also asleep but in two armchairs in front of the bed. It was the middle of the day, a warm day outside. As they slept, the ninja appeared out of nowhere, standing in a corner, and just looking at the three of them. He walked, making no noise, towards Kevin in the bed.

 He looked at his leg, which was in a cast and elevated to avoid pain. The ninja looked at it, with the clear intention of doing something, but he didn’t. The movement of his hands, the sweat drops on his forehead, were telling of how nervous he was to be there. Outside, a door was slammed just as he had been looking at Kevin very closely. When the patient opened his eyes, the doctor was there. He had dreamt again about the ninja.

 Many days afterwards, Kevin was recuperating in his house. He had flowers all over the place and had visitors almost every day. He had never felt so popular in the agency and had to make an effort not to look to annoyed by the amount of people coming and going from his home. He knew they all did it out of concern for him but he also knew they came because they wanted to know more about the mysterious ninja figure he almost died because.

 Everyone wanted to know what he had seen about him. The truth was that Kevin had consciously tried to stop recalling those moments because when he fell asleep, he would always relive the moment he fell and it wasn’t something very fun to experience. It felt as if the floor was suddenly removed from beneath his feet and he didn’t thought that was something great to tell anyone.

 But people knew how adamant he had been before the mission to catch the ninja. After all, he had attacked them before, as they tried to infiltrate a chemical plant, several months ago. As security agents, they were tasked with a lot of different mission in order to preserve the order in the world and in the country. The man and women of that agency were just the best of the best, always being very good at handling themselves and their opinions in front of people and under pressure.

 However, with the ninja, Kevin easily lost his mind. After he had seen him kill some people in order to steal some classified documents, Kevin realized the ninja was a persona that had no moral compass and that seemed to work for anyone who paid the price he asked for. He was only a mercenary and those people were sickening to Kevin as they just sold themselves for whatever they asked in order to be able to kill for sport.

 When they met the first time, Kevin fought the ninja for a long time before they had to declare the fight a draw and just run out of the chemical plant before it blew to the sky. From that moment on, Kevin tried to investigate whatever he could about the ninja but he was very unsuccessful. In other encounters, and there were not many, he tried to get some DNA to use a sample for testing but the ninja did not spit and it was very hard to grab his head.

 He even scouted the places of their fights in order to pick up anything he might be able to do but there was nothing or, at least, nothing important enough to pinpoint any particularities about this person. The worst thing was that Kevin had realized some of the moves the ninja used were the ones they learned at the academy. 

 He talked with one of the trainers there who assured him that no one outside the agency knew about many of those moves as they were created specifically for some exact situations and in order to use maximum force if necessary. That was the first real clue Kevin got. But he failed to tell his companions before the rooftop mission and, when he told them in the hospital, they were very mad at him for not revealing something so important to them.

 They decided to launch a full investigation and they had to check every single agent that had deserted the agency. They even did some surveillance work on some of them, discovering how boring people’s lives were when they wanted to be far away from all the chaos of the agency. But none of those guys, none of that people had any similarities or set of skills that resembled the ones of the ninja.

 Frustrated, Kevin returned to proper work after being a full week in the hospital. He had to use a crutch to walk but the pain was much less intense than before. He was assigned some office work in the agency and tried to forget all about the ninja killer. After much thought, it was obvious that person didn’t wanted to be caught and, he had been an agent, he wasn’t going to be so stupid as to leave any single clue around. After all it was a game of intellects to the end, in order to see who survived and who did not.

 As he thought this in his office, Kevin almost fell from his chair because he had realized something: when checking past agents, he had omitted to check on the deceased ones. It was a long shot but he decided to try to find the ninja there. In order not to be reprimanded by his superiors, he took copies of the files and took them home with no one knowing. Each night, he would check some of them and then fall asleep as he read them all.

 Almost a month after the incident in the rooftop, the ninja appeared in his room as he slept. He came closely to the desk and grabbed his file: it had been there all along but Kevin had not wanted to look at it. The ninja read it and then looked at the agent. He left the file back in the desk. As his eyes became watery, he leaned down to kiss Kevin on the cheek. Caught of guard, Kevin grabbed him by the neck and slammed him to the floor. With a fast move of the hand, he removed the ninja’s mask.

 As in a horror movie, Kevin pulled away from the dizzy ninja with wide opened eyes. He was seeing a ghost, one he had not wanted to see. He had a scar on his face and he looked paler than ever. His eyes looked empty and his body seemed to be fitter than he remembered it. But it was him. It was really him, his husband, just back from the dead as if nothing had happened.

Quemados

   Había ventiladores en todas las habitaciones del hospital y en cada pasillo e intersección de los mismos. En parte era por el calor pero también, según decía, era para disipar los olores que pudiera haber en el ambiente. El sitio donde había más aparatos funcionando era el ala norte, donde estaba la unidad de quemados. Era un lugar que todos los trabajadores del hospital evitaban a menos que tuvieran algo que hacer allí. Los deprimía tener que ver las caras y escuchar las voces de aquellos perjudicados por el fuego.

 Pero había gente a la que eso no le importaba. A Juan, por ejemplo, le gustaba pasarse sus ratos libres leyéndoles a los enfermos. Eran gente callada, ya que hablar requería a veces mucho esfuerzo. Incluso quienes estaban curando por completo y todavía estaban allí, preferían quedarse a ser pasados a otra habitación o a salir del hospital. Al menos allí se sentían como seres humanos y todo era por el trabajo que hacían Juan y algunos médicos.

 Les había leído algunas de las obras de Shakespeare y también cuento infantiles y libros de ciencia. Incluso a veces traía su libreta electrónica y les leía noticias o cualquier cosa que quisieran. Ellos no tenían permiso para tener ningún aparato electrónico mientras estuvieran en el hospital, así que a muchos les venía bien cuando Juan tenía algún rato libre y les venía a leer, sin hacer preguntas incomodas ni revisiones trabajosas. Eso lo dejaban para otros momentos.

 Juan lo hacía porque le gustaba pero también porque, desde que había presenciado él mismo un incendio, había quedado algo traumatizado con el evento y juró ayudar a cualquier persona que sufriera de algo tan horrible. Algunos en el pabellón eran niños, otros adultos e incuso había un par de reclusos. Estaban amarrados a la cama con esposas y siempre hacían bromas bastante oscuras, que el resto de los pacientes trataban de ignorar.

 Uno de ellos, Reinaldo, se había quemado el cincuenta por ciento del cuerpo al tratar de prenderle fuego a la bodega de su primo, al que le había empezado a ir muy bien importando revista de baja circulación y especializadas. Tuvo la idea de quemarlo todo para que su primo no pudiera recuperarse jamás y dejara de echarle en cara su éxito.

 Pero no calculó bien y se asustó en un momento, en el que se echó algo de gasolina encima y ni cuenta se dio. Cuando prendió el fuego y empezó a reírse como un maniático, ni se había dado cuenta que su pierna ya ardía. Pasados unos segundo empezó a gritar del dolor y se echó al suelo a rodar. Los bomberos que acudieron a apagar el incendio lo ayudaron y fue durante su recuperación que se supo, por videos de vigilancia, que él había sido el culpable.

 Ahora se la pasaba haciendo chistes horribles y asustando a los niños. Desafortunadamente, a pesar de pedirlo mil y una veces, los directivos del hospital no había aprobado pasar a los niños a otra habitación solo para ellos. No tenía sentido alguno que compartieran espacio con asesinos y con gente mayor que manejaba todo lo sucedido de una manera muy diferente.

 Los niños, por ejemplo, casi nunca lloraban ni se quejaban de una manera explicita. Solo cuando estaban siendo revisados de cerca por los doctores era que confesaban su dolor y su tristeza. Era porque les daba pena decir como se sentían y también algo de miedo porque estaban solos, sin sus padres como apoyo todos los días. Lo peor era que un par de ellos habían sido abandonados por sus padres, que jamás se habían molestado en volver a para saber que pasaba con sus hijos.

 Juan trataba de distraerlos, dándoles libros para colorear y haciéndoles jugar para que olvidaran donde estaban y porqué estaban allí. Él sabía que, al final del día, esas distracciones se desvanecían y la realidad se asentaba de nuevo en las cabezas de los niños. Pero trataba que su día a día fuera más llevadero para poder superar sus dificultades. Los niños eran mucho más fáciles de comprender que los adultos, eran muchos más tranquilos, honestos y, en cierta medida, serios. No había que hacer gran esfuerzo por convencerlos.

 El resto del pabellón de quemados era difícil, por decir lo menos. Eran amas de casa quemadas por sus maridos o por accidente. Eran hombres que habían tenido accidentes en sus trabajos y ahora no podían esperar para volver a su hogar y empezar a trabajar de nuevo. Eran personas que estaban apuradas, que querían salir de allí lo más pronto posible y no escuchaban recomendaciones pues creían que su edad les daba mayor autonomía en lo que no entendían.

 Había una mujer incluso que había sido quemada por su esposo una vez. Él le había acercado la mano a la llama de la cocina porque había quemado su cena. La quemadura, menos mal, no era grave. Pero Juan la atendió y la volvió a ver un mes después, con algo parecido por en la cara. Ya a la tercera vez fue que vino en ambulancia y supo que toda la casita donde vivía se había quemado.

Y aún así, a la mujer le urgía correr hacia su marido, quería saber como estaba y si su casa estaba funcionando bien sin ella. No escuchaba a los doctores ni a nadie que le dijera cosas diferentes de lo que quería oír. Juan pensaba que era casi seguro que volviera de nuevo si era dada de alta y tal vez incluso directamente al sótano del hospital.

 Cuando no lo soportaba más, se iba a los jardines del hospital y se echaba en el pasto. Se le subían algunos insectos y el sol lo golpeaba en la cara con fuerza, pero prefería eso a tener que soportar más tantas cosas. Era difícil tener que manejar tantas personalidades, sobre todo de aquellos que se rehusaban a entender lo que les pasaba y querían seguir haciendo con su vida exactamente lo mismo que antes.

 Incluso los niños lo cansaban después de un rato. Cuando ya había mucha confianza, algunos empezaban a hablarle como si fuera su padre o algo parecido y eso no le gustaba nada. Tenía que cortarlos con palabras duras y se sentía fatal al hacerlo pero un hospital no era un centro de rehabilitación para el alma sino para el cuerpo. No se las podía pasar de psicólogo por todos lados, tratando de salvar a la gente de si misma. Ya tenía su vida para tener que manejar las de los demás.

 Cuando alguien, otro miembro del personal, lo encontraba en el jardín, sabían que el día había sido difícil. La mayoría no le decía nada pues cada doctor en el mundo tiene su manera de distanciarse de lo que ve todos los días. Incluso los que tienen consultorios y atienden gente por cosas rutinarias, deben hacer algo para sacar de su mente tantas cosas malas y difíciles de procesar. Algunos fuman, otros comen, otros hacen ejercicio, o gritan o algo hacen para sacar de su cuerpo todo eso que consumen al ser especialistas de la salud.

 Pero Juan siempre volvía al pabellón de quemados. Era lo suyo, no importaba lo que pasara y trataba siempre de hacer el mejor trabajo posible. Cuando tenía un par de días libres, los pasaba haciendo cosas mus distintas, divirtiéndose y tratando de no olvidar que todavía era un hombre joven y que la vida era muy corta para tener que envejecer mucho más rápido por culpa de las responsabilidades y demás obligaciones.

 Cocinaba, tenía relaciones sexuales, subía a montañas rusas, hacia senderismo, tomaba fotos,… En fin, tenía más de una afición para equilibrar su mente y no perderse a si mismo en su trabajo. Esos poquísimos días libres en lo que podía ser él mismo o, al menos, otra versión de Juan, eran muy divertidos y siempre los aprovechaba al máximo.

 Pero cuando volvía al hospital lo hacía con ganas renovadas pues creía que podía hacer alguna diferencia y no se cansaba de intentarlo. De pronto la mujer no volvería más si le hablaba con franqueza, de pronto el pirómano se calmaría con sus palabras y tal vez los niños no resentirían al mundo por lo que les había pasado. Juan se esforzaba todos los días por dejar una marca, la que fuera. Esa era su meta.