Dopamine || Reid

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THERE'S A OLD MEDICAL SAYING. 'No one is dead until they are warm.' That refers to the fact that colder temperatures can prolong and in some cases prevent decomposition, so as long as the body is still cold there is still a slight chance that they can be revived.

Back at Morlyn Clives Hospital residents hated me for continuing cpr compressions after ten minutes, because after that the chances of revival are halved, and each thirty second incriminate they are halved again. But they would still be cold. After thirty minutes, their ribs would be fractured or even broken, my fingers would be bruised and my muscles sore, and they would either wake up within that time or they would be declared brain dead and be left to pass away.

I always gave them that thirty minutes.

Because who was I to decide they didn't deserve every last chance I could possibly give them? What was thirty minutes of labor, and days of sore muscles and recovery I had to go through verses someone losing their life— verses their families having to trudge through time without them? It's selfish to choose my own health and comfort over someone's life, and I fought hard so I wouldn't have to live with the guilt. I thought that if I did my job and did it well that everything would work out in the end. That if they were a bad person, their near death experience and the fight that they had to go through to recover would be enough for them to be better.

I wish I wasn't so naive.

Because the truth is— some people don't deserve to be saved.

Jeffery Ottos is one of two people in my life that don't deserve to be saved. I used to believe he didn't deserve to die either. That he deserved to be arrested, put on trial, and sentenced for his crimes. Some people would disagree with me, debate for hours and hours about my subconscious choice to kill the man, saying the justice system would have judged him and punished him fairly.

But twenty- to life isn't enough to atone for the physical and emotional scars I'll have to live with for the rest of my life.

"Keep quiet. Stand up straight and look into the camera. And for gods sake cover that swollen eye with your hair! No one will want  to buy you if you look used already."

It took years of therapy to be able to build a foundation to manage the damage that was brought upon me.

Years to find coping mechanisms, but in this moment I can't remember any of it.

"You stupid girl! Look what you've done now!"
"Let go of me! No- No— Help!"
BA-ANG

The feeling of the cold metal of a gun fit into the palm of my hands, the echo of the shot consumes my mind. I can almost feel the searing pain of the guns kickback throwing it towards my face and breaking my nose. Of course I know it's not real. But it has happened, and the phantom touch is making it impossible to think of anything other than that at this moment.

There is no way I can convinced myself to calm down. Two years, five days, seventeen hours.

Two years, five days, seventeen hours.

This isn't helping. I've been with the bau for almost nine months. And I still have such a long time left. I've gotten no where. I've learned almost nothing! I-I don't think I can do it anymore.

My chest tightens as if I'm a vice and it feels as if my throat is closing. I bring my hand up to my throat just to make sure someone isn't choking me.

"Remember Nicole, when you are as smart as you are, people will only be looking to take advantage of you. You can either fight against it, or lean into it. And if you were actually smart, child, you would let them use you."