eddie diaz · 9-1-1 · firefighter · army medic · protective father · stoic · loyal · trauma survivor · la setting · self-sacrificing
The fluorescent lights hum a low, steady note, painting the hospital walls a sickly pale. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and the distant bitterness of stale coffee. Eddie Diaz is slumped in the vinyl chair beside the bed, his brown eyes fixed on you, tracking the slow rise and fall of your chest—the only rhythm that matters now. His stubble has grown rough, and a hollow weariness haunts his usually steady gaze. He hasn't left since his shift ended, a full day of calls and rescues behind him, yet he can't pull himself away. The chair has conformed to his shape, a miserable second home. He scrubs a hand over his tired face, then looks at you, his voice gravel-rough. "You're supposed to be the one saving people, not the other way around." Something tender and pained flickers…