I haven't written a story in a while, but no time like summer, right?

Plotline: A trio of girls who live in Seattle have to deal with the problems that face them after a traumatizing Prom

Disclaimer: I should just have one in case… I DON'T OWN GREY'S

Alright then… here we go!

it is split up into the three ppl... btw

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1st Person

I just didn't know what to do. I was a coward, and I knew it, but I just couldn't do it. Couldn't pick, couldn't choose. So I ran. Ran away from all the problems and found sanctuary in a tub of ice cream and an on-call room. Of course, I'd have to re-stock the nurses' fridge with more mint chocolate chip, and, of course, I should be with Izzie, my friend, but I just couldn't. I sat alone, melting with the ice cream, every bite drowning my soul. I am pathetic, I knew it, but I just don't give a damn.

Why was life so hard? I just wish I could go back to toy bicycles and dolls. The good days. But no, I had to deal with this crap. What a joy! And to top it off, neither Finn nor Mcdreamy came after me tonight. Of course, if they did, I'd shoo them off, so it didn't matter. I just wanted to eat her ice cream, scoop by scoop, and be the lonely and wretched person I am. But it would've been nice if they chased me. Yes it would have made my day; just to see them hounding me, begging me to pick them, choose them, love them. Phooey. Who needed them. I didn't.

I was used to being pathetic, you know. All my life I have been. In a pretty sad way too. Sure, I'd go out, party it up at the local joint. But then what? I may have been the youngest in my class to lose virginity, that damn tequila, but what else of my life. Oh right, I was smart, and I was going to be a surgeon. But did I ever have a real commitment. A real boyfriend? No. because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself and masking my emotions with the poison of alcohol.

Mother Ellis had been determined in her career, so she was absent. But I couldn't blame my mother for what she did to me. That was my own damn fault for screwing around in the first place. Thank god, I was smart. Thank god, I went to medical school. Because without that, I'd have no family, since my own usually stabbed me in the back too frequently. I mean seriously. Who has a mother, who cheated on her stable husband with her colleague during the workday? Ok, so I too slept with my own boss, my boss' boss, but I didn't have the obligation, nor did I take time out of my job to have sporadic sex. I did kiss him in elevators though. And he wasn't too bad of a kisser at that.

But he wasn't my problem anymore. It was bigger now. Instead of a lake, I had an ocean ahead of me. Finn was sweet, but Derek was passion. Who was I kidding anyway? I loved Derek and always will. But, is that ever enough? After all the shit he put me through, is it even worth it to forgive and forget? I am Christian, and God tells me to do so in the Bible, but honestly, who could blame me. He was the McJerkiest of all jerkoffs. Ok, so that isn't entirely true. But whatever. He was a jerk to me. He lied, more than once to me. He had a wife, and when I thought he was going to pick me, I see that those papers aren't signed yet. Yes, they do have written all this crap about divorce and how the assets are to be split, but no pen ink was dotted along the lines. And its not like he's dumb. He knew he had to sign them to end it all. The post- it even clearly marked where to do so. And he didn't. Jack ass.

So what, I am cursing. A lot. But it is all in my head. I'm not speaking it. So who the hell cares what I AM thinking. Obviously not Derek or Finn, 'cause neither of them bothered to show up. Jack asses…

2nd Person

I just didn't know what to do. He had died. My fiancée, my lover, my soul mate. The man I would wake up with one day and say 'That's my husband, the father of my children, and the love of my life'. And he went and died. He headed straight for that goddamn light. It actually wasn't his choice, and I knew it. I just didn't want to admit to it. The stupid heart had to give him blood clots. Either way, I knew he would've died, with or without his newly pumping organ. But that didn't matter. When someone you loved dearly dies, none of it matters.

I myself dealt with the pain-stacking effects of problems in her day. No one died of course. But it did feel like they did. My father was never around. Mother would always say how he would be taking extra shifts at the construction site, and how he wouldn't be home to take me to the park. Not that I wanted to. It was a nasty, grungy sort of place that the Trailer Park had to have required by law: a recreational facility. Some recreation it was. It was rundown, with grass barely sprouting. Ooo, and the rusty swing set that would've broken off its foundation if it carried weight more than 100 pounds. Thank god I was a light kid. But, again, I hated the park, so what did it matter.

There was a lot of things I hated back then. I hated the lying of course. What 12 year old daughter would believe that their dad took extra shifts when she always spotted his car across the street by the bar? I saw it there everyday, since I worked daily at the Round-the-Clock Diner, against all child-labor laws. That place had so many memories. The people especially, and the atmosphere. It always smelled, but, my God, it was my home. Not my home-away-from home. MY HOME. My drunken father barely bothered to show up at home, my mother would always be working, and it would be me, myself, and I. In fact, I was like a parent for a while, earning income to make up for what my father lacked. But then, I went from like-a-parent, to a parent. I got pregnant.

There are many things in my life I'd like to forget. Denny dying, of course being one of them. I hated how he had died. But one thing I loved was my daughter. Those 9 months went by too fast, and I knew I would always love her, but it was better to give her away. What could a dinner girl/ model who was living paycheck to paycheck give her? My mother of course, told me to give up my dream of being a surgeon. Forget about the damn schooling and take care of my girl and work at that damn diner. But of course I didn't listen.

And I end up here.

After walking down the steps of the hospital, just seconds after my informal resignation, this thought came up. Would it really have been better if I'd forgotten about the "damn" schooling and just work as diner girl? I shook my head.

And now I lay here, in my room. Actually, it's Meredith's house, so it's technically not my room. But whatever. All I can think of is how the hell worse can my life get. Its been a long time coming from those roots of the trailer home, but now, I faintly wish I'd stayed there. I mean, I would've avoided all this mess. Not to mention, I am not cut out to be a surgeon. I can't. I won't.

3rd Person

I am supposed to be strong. I am supposed to be the one people look to and think that maybe one day they'd be as determined as I am, as work-stricken as I am. I am not supposed to let feeling and emotion cloud my head. And he has made my head so foggy that I can't think straight. I thought being an intern, I could be tough. Then I met the people. The contemporaries I had to work with. They were so nice and so caring---it was scary. And he mad it worse. I met him, and my knees gave in. I, actually me, gave in to this hot shot cardiologist. And the even scarier thing--- he gave in to me.

Competition in this career was everything. Has always been everything in my life. Even as a child I had always been the first to the center of the trivial pursuit board. I never let my guard down. Getting less than perfect grades didn't cut it. My teachers were even scared of me. The sweet, innocent looking Korean girl in the back was more vicious than a tiger. And I wasn't even on the hunt.

It was just in my nature to always want to be on the top. He was the same way. He was first in his class at college, and so was I. We both strived for the best. And seeing him like this, at his lowest points, make me weaker. I am not strong now. He is using this sort of vibe in this room to make me vulnerable. Ok, so he isn't actually doing anything. But his current state is making me go mad. I can't handle the pressure. I can't be his go-too gal. Can I?

I need the feeling of control back in my hands. Why won't anyone give it to me? I have to be the best, instead of here, being supportive. It sounds crazy and completely rude, but I don't wanna be here. Next to his bedside, holding his hand… it all makes me sicker inside. To know that I have come down to this compassionate of a level is hard to bare. But accepting it? That isn't the girl I know inside. That isn't the competitive "Tina" that my college buddies knew.

I always had my books stuffed in my nose on campus. Or, at least that is what my classmates said. Repeatedly, may I mention. And, instead of feeling stupid for being isolated, I smile, and thank them. The response is always odd, with silence first, and then a new topic arises. But I liked being alone. It meant that I was working, all the time, and making more out of life. I didn't sit around and gossip about Ryan and Jennifer making out on the square, on the benches, having just recently breaking up with their exes. It didn't make sense to me. So I became great, while they all flip burgers.

But something inside me tells me that doesn't matter. It really doesn't. Because Burke is sick. He needs me. Whether the old Christina would've stayed or left… It didn't matter. Because even though she hated admitting it, she was caring. And she would be here for him. She would be his rock.

Ok…. So that's my story so far. I know, it is a little random. But I promise, next chapter will have conversation. I just wanted to set up the emotion of the three main girls of this story. I do have my "shipper" preferences, but I want to focus on these three. Callie, Bailey, and Addison, even Adele, will have their chance. They may not have what this trio has, but they'll have their moments.

I hope to make this enjoyable for all "shipper" types. Keep R & R (read and review) coming folks. I'll try for a new chapter by Saturday.