Page 42 of For Mercy

Thomas's eyes darted forward, scanning the table before him.There, set in the center, was a massive bowl of steaming food.The pungent aroma wafted towards him, a bizarre contrast to the sterile, artificial environment.

"Your salvation lies within," the voice added, a hint of cruel amusement coloring the synthesized tones.

Thomas stared at the bowl, his mind racing.The key was inside the food?He tugged at his restraints, the metal biting into his wrists.He couldn't use his hands.The realization hit him like a punch to the gut – they wanted him to eat his way to freedom.

"This is insane," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead."You can't expect me to—"

"The clock is ticking, Doctor," the voice interrupted."I suggest you start soon if you wish to survive."

Thomas closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.He was a man of science, of careful procedures and sterilized environments.The thought of burying his face in that bowl, desperately searching for a key with his mouth, made his stomach churn.

But as he felt the air growing heavier, an acrid taste beginning to coat his tongue, he knew he had no choice.With a deep breath, Thomas leaned forward, his face hovering over the steaming bowl.

As Thomas's face hovered inches from the steaming bowl, a sudden flash of memory struck him with such force that he jerked back, nearly toppling the chair.

"I know why," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper."I know why I'm here."

The realization hit him like a freight train, transporting him back three years to a sunny afternoon in Dallas.He and Sarah had been celebrating their anniversary, indulging in a romantic getaway filled with wine, pasta, and leisurely strolls through cobblestone streets.

"Sarah," Thomas murmured, his wife's name a prayer on his lips.How different things had been then, how carefree and unburdened.Until that fateful dinner.

The memory unfolded with cruel clarity.They had been seated at a quaint trattoria, the warm Italian sun casting long shadows across their table.The air had been thick with the scent of garlic and herbs, the chatter of fellow diners a pleasant backdrop to their meal.

Then, chaos erupted.

"Help!"A woman's panicked cry pierced the air."Someone, please help!"

Thomas's head snapped up, his fork clattering to the plate.Across the restaurant, a man in his sixties was on his feet, his face turning an alarming shade of purple.His hands clawed at his throat, eyes wide with terror.

"He's choking," Sarah gasped, gripping Thomas's arm."Thomas, you have to do something!"

He froze, the weight of the situation crushing down on him.His medical training screamed at him to act, to rush over and perform the Heimlich maneuver.It would be simple, routine even.He had done it countless times before.

But fear, insidious and paralyzing, kept him rooted to his chair.

"I...I can't," he choked out, his voice barely audible over the commotion.“I just can't."

Thomas’s hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.The malpractice lawsuit that had been hanging over his head for months flashed through his mind, a constant specter threatening to destroy everything he had worked for.

"Thomas, please!"Sarah's voice was desperate, her eyes darting between her husband and the choking man.

He shook his head, shame burning in his chest."I'm not licensed here.If something goes wrong..."The words tasted bitter on his tongue, excuses that couldn't mask the truth of his cowardice.

A waiter rushed past their table, shouting in rapid Italian.Thomas watched, his heart pounding, as another diner leapt to his feet and hurried to the choking man's side.The would-be rescuer wrapped his arms around the victim's midsection, attempting the Heimlich maneuver with clumsy, panicked movements.

"It's not working," Sarah whispered, her voice choked with tears.

Thomas knew she was right.The man's technique was off, his thrusts too high and lacking the necessary force.He could see it all with agonizing clarity, knowing exactly what needed to be done.

But still, he sat.

The choking man's struggles grew weaker, his face now a terrifying shade of blue.Thomas's medical mind supplied the clinical details – hypoxia setting in, brain damage imminent.

"I can't watch this," Sarah said, burying her face in her hands.

Thomas couldn't look away.He cataloged every detail, every failed attempt at rescue, every agonizing second that ticked by.When the man finally collapsed to the floor, Thomas knew it was too late.

The restaurant erupted into chaos – screams, sobs, frantic calls for an ambulance.But Thomas heard it all as if from a great distance, the sounds muffled by the roaring in his ears.

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