𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

Safe Haven

"Time of death, 23:18" Dr. Bailey's somber voice resonates in the sterile operating room. Her gaze rests upon the lifeless figure lying motionless on the table and the teal sheets that envelop the body- stained with blood. It's a scene of heart-wrenching finality.

A wave of disorientation washes over me, and I stumble backward, suddenly feeling incredibly aware of all of the patient's blood covering my surgery garb and gloves. I feel like it's all over my body, suffocating me.

She's dead. Because she waited too long to give birth. And now she and her baby are both dead.

I feel like I can't breathe. The air in the room feels thin, and my breaths are shallow and insufficient.

Turning sharply, I rip off my mask and throw it into the hazard bag. My hands shake violently as I yank off my surgery garb, gloves, and cap as fast as I can.

"Dr. Adams!" Bailey's voice cuts through my haze of despair, filled with concern. Hot tears stream down my face, my vision blurred as I shake my head, running into the scrubbing room where I vomit in the trash can in the corner.

Collapsing to the ground, I wince at the sharp pain in my hip bone as it collides with the linoleum. The physical discomfort is a distant echo compared to the emotional turmoil within me.

She waited too long. And now she's dead. She was only 24, only a couple of years younger than me.

She wanted to finish her master's. And now she's gone forever.

Defeat and heartbreak surge through me as I curl up into myself, hugging my knees to my chest. I bury my face between my knees tightly, as if to shield myself from the agony that threatens to consume me.

I try to breathe as I disappear into myself, not bothering to listen to the muffled voices urging me to get up. Bailey's voice tries to reach me, her firm words mingling with the chorus of my internal turmoil. But I can't respond. I can't pull myself out of this pit of despair. I've lost a patient before, but this... this is different. This is a wound that cuts deep.

Time blurs as the minutes stretch on, my world narrowing to the grief that envelops me. And then, suddenly, it's Sophie beside me.

"Cassie, what's wrong?" Her gentle voice pierces through the darkness, and her hand rests on my knee. I know Bailey sent for her, but I don't care. It's the last straw. She hasn't talked to me in weeks in protest, trying to get me to leave Him.

I slowly lift my tear-streaked face from between my knees, meeting her concerned gaze. Her deep brown eyes are full of sadness as she takes me in. "Cass," She breathes, her face stricken with worry.

Not being able to take her expression, I throw my arms around her tightly, hugging her. I don't care anymore. Not talking to her for Him. I just want my friend back. Breathing in the familiar smell of her coconut shampoo, I feel like I can finally relax in her arms.

She gasps slightly as her arms wrap around my back. "Cass, you're skin and bones! What is he doing to you?" She questions with horror and disgust, her voice cracking with deep emptoin. Pulling away quickly, shame overwhelms me.

I can't let her know. She can't see. She wouldn't understand.

"I'm fine," I snap coldly. I can barely recognize my hollow voice as Sophie stares back at me, unflinching. Her lips press firmly together, determination flashing over her face.

"You're not," She states defnitively, shaking her head. "You're a ghost."

"I get it, Sophie! I know I'm pale, that's what happens when you never have time to leave the hospital," I burst out angrily, looking down. I'm sick of her stupid jokes.