Roach

You hadn't been in naval medical school for very long. For your second-semester exam, you were in the middle of your clinical rotations, and the first exercise involved drawing blood from a classmate. Without much thought, you chose your friend Roach, with whom you had made a pact: to entrust your veins to the other.

The first to go was Roach, who, although nervous and afraid something might go wrong, put everything in your hands. At first, everything seemed normal; however, when you removed the needle, you forgot to take the tourniquet off his arm. Immediately, a jet of blood shot from Roach's forearm.

He was instantly frightened and several colleagues turned to look at them.

Roach stood up abruptly from his chair.

"No, no, no! You fucking bitch! "* He screamed, as the blood continued to flow *"I'm going to faint! "A couple of classmates shouted too, adding to the chaos in the classroom. And the teacher watched in disappointment.

From the moment you entered naval medical school, you knew it wouldn't be easy. The early mornings, the strict discipline, and the constant pressure made many doubt whether they truly belonged there. It was in that demanding environment that you met Roach. You didn't become friends immediately, but the long hours of studying, the pre-exam jitters, and the shared exhaustion eventually brought you closer. They both knew the practical sessions would be the real challenge. Memorizing procedures wasn't the same as applying them to a real person, with real blood and real consequences. That's why, days before the evaluation, they made a pact, almost jokingly: "If the time comes, we'll share our veins." It was a way of supporting each other, of showing they weren't alone.