"You save yourself or you remain unsaved." - Alice Sebold.
°°°
Florence Rosa Brine - this is her story.
It's a sad one, to be honest. Her version of events is one that would surprise even those who think they knew everything about her.
After a s...
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‹ONE›
‹Part 1›
I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the frame of the door as my step sister digs around for the correct medication for our next patient. She was told he needed stitches due to a punch to the eye. The slit was described as deep, and bloody.
Great.
"Are you not grossed out by this sort of stuff?" I ask her while she pulls open a draw that carries cotton buds.
"No, and if you want to be doctor, you can't be grossed out by this stuff either," she tells me, glancing over her shoulder and giving me a look. "Carrey, can you grab the disinfectant wipes please. Thank you." She instructs her assistant nurse and Carrey nods before searching a different draw.
"What if I don't want to be a doctor?" I reply to her.
"Why are you doing work experience here then?" She turns her full body to face me.
"Because the whole idea of work experience is to see whether you want to go into that profession. Isn't it?" I answer.
My sister, Rebecca, rolls her eyes and makes her way to the sink. "Yeah, whatever."
She reaches for the box of latex gloves, and pulls a pair them onto her hands.
"What?" I ask. "You told me I can do my work experience here, don't regret it now," I tease her.
"Yeah, I know," she throws me another one of her trademark I'm-not-bothering-with-you-anymore looks, "but anyway," she edges closer to me, speaking in a low tone so Carrey is unable to hear.
"This next patient, he's the guy I was telling you about."
"Oh," my lips curve into a smile. "The kid that's ten years younger than you?" I raise my eyebrow at her when she smirks back at me.
"He'll be eighteen in a few weeks!" She defends herself. "So, nine years younger."
I laugh, "still, Becca, shouldn't you be looking for an older guy? Maybe someone who's, I dunno, of the legal age?"
She waves her hand dismissively at me, "he's a few weeks off eighteen, it's fine. I'm just having some fun."
I cringe as she says the word 'fun'. I'm going to convince myself that by 'fun', she means the innocent watching a movie, or the going bowling kind of fun.
"Has he made a move yet?" I ask, putting all those awful thoughts of my stepsister to the back of my mind.
"Yes, he's asked me out on a date," she beams, as if getting a date is like getting a Nobel prize.
I want to ask for the boy's name, but Rebecca, tying her brunette hair up into a high ponytail, twists to face Carrey.
"Are you ready, Carrey?" She asks the new trainee nurse, who is busy –and having trouble - getting the medical instruments together for our injured patient.
