Nothing but the Blood

“Now if you’re going to squirm like that, Mr. Lorrison, you’ll yank out your tube. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Nurse Hasting intoned.

“How many more?”

“About fifteen, why?”

“Make it sixteen. And make sure they’re rotten scoundrels,” Maser Lorrison yelped.

He yelped because he already sacrificed two pints of blood. His eyes looked sullen and droopy. A crust formed around his mouth.

“Of course, Mr. Lorrison. Three have been your sworn enemies. It’s amazing how you all had the same blood type.”

Lorrison groaned. He tossed in his bed.

“I want to do it. I have to be as selfless and unselfish as ever. All the others get to be selfish, but I can’t be?”

In a moment, a reporter named Holliday Seals entered the room. She dressed well, her hair exquisite. She was twenty-nine.

“Hi, we talked via video chat. You can call me Holly.”

Lorrison struggled to laugh then coughed incessantly.

“Do you need water?”

“No. I’m fine. Ask your questions.”

“What is this about? Why are you draining your body of the substance of life?”

“I’ve said it. I want to be a sacrifice.”

“You could trade your time, money…why your body?”

“I want to make it painful. I’ve given my efforts for charities and donated billions. I have to show how altruistic I can be.”

“So offering yourself up as a chunk of flesh to be used in any way except by a butcher’s cleaver is your idea of ‘goodness’?”

“No. You misunderstand. I want to be a zero…an absolute nothing. This spurs that action.”

Then Lorrison leaned back in his bed and looked straight up. The medical staff respected the DNR agreement. Holliday backed away and burst into the restroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. The light glowed. She wept.