Miranda Bailey
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I slide her dirtied shirt off of her battered head, being careful to avoid hitting any of her injuries, sucking in when I look down at it.
Her chest is bruised and red, and some of her ribs that are clearly protruding from her stomach are broken are patched with purple and blue patches, which is nothing compared to her arms, which are the worst of it.
But as I look closer, I get more and more uneasy. Needle marks and cuts spread across her marble white skin, scaring in uneven patterns.
"Oh my god," Meredith and Alex say together, their words ending with panic.
"Alex, what's her name." Derek asks as I start putting a chest tube in her, trying to fix her pneumothorax and atelectasis.
He doesn't answer.
"Karev. What is her name?" He asks again, staring into his eyes instead of focusing on this little girls critical health.
"Eliza Jane Brown." He says, cursing when he grasps what he's going at.
" No way, that's her? She doesn't look anything like the pictures. I guess a year can really change you and your personality." Derek responds back, tending to her head.
"Shut up. Just shut the hell up." I yell, my jaw locking. "She's seven years old, for god's sake! She was six when they got her. She spent her birthday with a kidnapper, which by the look of her, almost beat her to death. So yes, she has a goddamn right to be scared; terrified even. So shut the hell up before I kick you at of this OR." I huff, my eyes darkening in anger. "Now get these damn restraints off of her."
. . .
Eliza Brown
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I wake up, wanting to open my eyes to see where I am, but I don't have the courage to open them.
A wave a pain escaping from my chest and ribs washes me over, making me groan in pain.
I move my hand slowly to soothe the aching pain underneath my ribs, crying out in pain, when my fingers push at it, my breathing setting gasoline to the fire set inside my chest.
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