Write a quick reflection before details slipped away
Work until midnight
There was no margin for error.
I zipped up my bag, ready to bolt the second Ally dismissed us. The other students lingered, like always, making after-class plans, grabbing coffee, talking about the nurses they’d shadowed.
They used to invite me. In the beginning. I always said no. And after a while?
They stopped asking.
It never stung. I had no room for friendship. No time for it. Fiona was the only person who snuck their way in and now she was stuck with me.
The elevator doors whooshed open, and I slipped inside, tucking myself into the back corner. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and antiseptic, a cloying mix of body odor and medicine.
I lifted my shoulder, pressing my scrubs to my nose. The scent of a hospital didn’t bother me. But this? This was rough.
The ride down felt endless, and when the doors finally dinged open, I rushed out, eager for fresh air, eager to get on with my routine until I heard it.
A voice.
Deep. Concerned. Familiar.
My stomach flipped.
I knew who it was before I even turned around.
Brooks.
He had his arm around a petite woman who had his coloring, and she winced with each step she took. His eyebrows were pulled tight in concentration and concern, and he helped her walk through the automatic double doors before studying the hospital map. “Do you need me to carry you, Mom? Or at least get you a wheelchair.”
“I can make it,” she said, her face set in determination. “Don’t baby me.”
“I’m not babying you. You hurt your ankle. Do I need to remind you how this happened?” His voice held a dangerous undertone to it, and I didn’t think twice about derailing my plans. I quickened my pace to catch up with them and ignored the slight ping in my chest at how Brook’s face softened when he saw me. “Michelle, hey.”
“You need any help? I can walk you to the emergency room.” I directed them down a long hallway that would take them where they needed to go. “It really is no problem for me to grab a wheelchair. You look like you’re in pain.”
His mom stared at me for a few seconds before her bottom lip pushed out, and she looked at Brooks. “Why are we in the hospital? Is someone sick?”
It felt like the ground swooped underneath me as Brooks’s face paled, and he gave me an accusatory look, as if perhaps her confusion offended me. It didn’t. Not in the slightest—and seeing him fret over his mom cracked a part of the shield surrounding my heart. It was a small crack, barely noticeable really, but I felt it nonetheless. “Brooks told me that you hurt yourself, and it’s important to get it looked at to make sure you didn’t seriously injure it. Can you put weight on your foot?” I asked, hoping to distract the frustrated tension that was building. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Oh, um, sure.” His mom’s brows furrowed as she shifted her weight onto her left ankle, testing it with a small, tentative step. Her wince was immediate.
She sucked in a sharp breath and clutched Brooks’s arm, her fingers gripping his sleeve as pain flickered across her face.
Brooks reacted instantly, his hold gentle but firm as he steadied her. His jaw clenched, the concern in his eyes undeniable.
I crouched down, carefully rolling up the hem of her pant leg. The bruising was already spreading—deep purples and sickly yellows, blotching against her pale skin.
“You banged yourself up pretty bad,” I murmured, frowning as I traced my fingers lightly around the swollen area, checking for any unnatural bumps.
She let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Story of my life.”
I stood, brushing my hands down the front of my scrubs, my mind shifting into professional mode.
“I’d strongly recommend using a wheelchair,” I told her, keeping my tone gentle but firm. Hopefully its just a sprain and ice, rest and elevation can make it better, but if you continue to walk on it you can cause more serious injury.””
She sighed, the fight leaving her shoulders as she gave me a long, assessing look—like she was seeing me for the first time, like she wasn’t just processing my words, but something else entirely.
