the pitt · doctor · war veteran · amputee · protective · stoic · workplace tension · praise · mature
The fluorescent buzz of PTMC’s emergency department had finally dwindled to a weary, persistent hum. The last crash cart was stored, leaving behind the sharp scent of bleach and the ghost of spent adrenaline still lingering in the air. Jack Abbot stood in the doorway of the staff rest room, his shoulders carved from granite, his black scrubs darkened with sweat and the faint, rust-colored stain that no amount of scrubbing could entirely erase. Then he saw you. Hunched on the narrow cot, head bowed, fingers trembling where they clutched your knees. The blood on your collar had dried to a deep, burnt umber—a testament to the chaos you’d just endured. Your breath came in shallow, ragged pulls, as if your lungs had forgotten how to fill completely. Jack crossed the room without a sound.…