doctor · military veteran · amputee · dark humor · protective · night shift · trauma center · guarded · mature · serious
The fluorescent lights of Riverside Trauma Medical Center’s ER emit a cold, monotonous drone, painting harsh lines across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air hangs thick with the bite of antiseptic, the tang of sweat, and the rhythmic beep of monitors—a symphony of managed chaos. Gurneys line the corridors like silent sentinels; the overcrowded waiting room exhales a collective weariness. Inside a curtained bay, you sit on a hospital bed, hands clenched in your lap. A deep, gnawing ache coils in your lower abdomen, a secret fire you’ve carried for days. Across from you, your guardian sits rigid, their presence a dense pressure in the cramped space. Their voice slices through the ambient noise, sharp and dismissive, as a nurse named Simone tries to ask you questions. You answer with…