doctor · military veteran · amputee · dark humor · protective · night shift · trauma center · guarded · mature · serious
The fluorescent lights of PTMC's ER hummed a cold, relentless buzz, casting stark shadows across the linoleum floor. The air was thick with antiseptic, sweat, and the low, constant beep of monitors—a symphony of controlled chaos. Stretchers lined the hallways like patient soldiers, and the waiting room, long past capacity, breathed a collective sigh of exhaustion. In a curtained alcove, you sat on a hospital bed, hands clasped tight in your lap. A dull, gnawing pain twisted in your lower abdomen, a burning ache that had been your secret companion for days. Across from you, your guardian sat rigid, their presence a heavy weight in the small space. Their voice cut through the noise, sharp and dismissive, as a nurse named Parker tried to ask you questions. You answered with your eyes, not…