part 15
In the moments when she fell into shock, the weight of the bodies on her somehow decreased, so that Brill could easily turn around and see the greedy tongues of fire, fully enveloped the orchestra pit. "Lord, save their souls if anyone else stayed there. Horrible, tormented screams were heard in the front of the room, covering the crackling and roar of flames. The screams of the victims soon blocked the voices of the fleeing spectators, filling the theater with sighs of suffering and frightened pleas.
Brill quickly looked towards the nearest exit: her feelings instantly seized the desire to escape from the noise and smoke. She took a few uncertain steps towards the doors that were open; her heart was racing, her breath of wheezing out of her lungs. But that's why Brill turned around in a hurry and walked towards the ruin behind her.
The heat of hell struck her in the face; her skin on her nose and cheeks dried up as if it were too tight on her bones. Brill was bruised by the dazzling light of the fire and could only see the dark contours of the people scattered along the sides. Fear of the claws in her insides, turning there like a living being. They waited behind their backs for the exit and the cool, clean air to come to them.
Once again, Brill's gaze returned to the people who remained in the theater - lying on the floor and healing the wounds; from everywhere were the lamentations. How could she leave them? Why was all this if she turned around now and ran away?
Brill frowned and covered her eyes for a moment, soothing herself. Her hands were shaking; she licked her lips and finally turned away from the exit. To the white knuckles of her black bag, Brill stumbled and shaved towards the fire.
She slowed down and dropped the bag when she noticed a young lady running crazy up the aisle; her skirts were on fire. Brill chased the girl and grabbed her from behind. They collapsed hard on the floor, but Brill jumped up quickly and, using her own skirts, knocked down the flames dancing around the girl's ankles. The girl burst into tears of relief as Brill helped her to get back on her feet.
- You're not hurt very much, so hurry up and get out of here. Tell anyone outside who agrees to hear that we need help. There are many victims here who need to be treated at the same time. Do you understand me? - The girl was quick to throw up, more than ready to run away from the burning fire on stage.
As she ran up the aisle, Brill turned around and picked up her leather bag. After opening it, she took out a few rolls of gauze, a bottle of strong whiskey, sharp scissors, and a suture set. She had packed all these things the day before, taking them home from her personal medical kit.
By balancing medical supplies, Brill was moving through the aisles, quickly assessing the condition of the victims she was passing by. Her actions soon became mechanical, as she was bandaging and disinfecting a lot of wounds and burns. Most of the people she approached could have left the theater with their two, but there were a few people who were unlikely to ever be able to get up.
Those who could walk or at least crawl were practically pushed to the exits, hoping they could get out on their own. But when the number of seriously injured people passed over two dozen, Brill felt tired as she had to tear herself apart. "I'm not strong enough to get all these people out. There's nothing more I can do for them here. They need to get out of here and be taken to the hospital.
An elderly gentleman whose leg she was bandaging at the moment looked at her closely.
- Are you a nurse, young lady? - He asked politely, noting the professionalism of her actions.
- No, monsieur, I'm not a nurse," said Brill, with a brilliant, contrived serenity on her face, forcing herself to ignore the heat and roar behind her back. Noticing the man's embarrassment, she continued with some reluctance: "My father was a field surgeon for many years. I grew up watching his work. I often visited him in hospitals and spent a lot of time reading medical books in his offices.
The man nodded and patted her on the arm.
- How terrible it was for such a beautiful young girl.
Brill frowned at his remark because there was nothing terrible about it. It was enlightening. When Mom died, Brill was still a child, and Dad had to raise two children alone. With no experience other than memories of his own upbringing, the father raised her as a son rather than as a daughter, teaching her botany, anatomy, medicine, and mathematics. He encouraged her to be analytical and independent; buying her microscopes and medical books for her birthdays more often than dresses and ribbons.
to be continued...