Elliot made it a habit to watch the news in the morning.
It was a minor distraction before she had to head down to Sacred Heart Hospital, where she was guaranteed to have a stressful and uncomfortably emotional day. God, she was starting to hate that place; Kelso was really pushing her these days.
After sighing deeply, Elliot spilled some cereal in her bowl, and fixed herself on her couch, flipping on the television. "Hey, Keith! Wake up!" she called lazily behind her, and after hearing some reluctant grumbles, Elliot began to eat her breakfast, her eyes glued to the television.
The commercials ended, and the screen flashed to an elderly looking newscaster. "We have breaking news," he announced, shifting his papers and looking into the camera. "There was a crash near the North Hollywood area, involving a car identified as a Chrysler Pacifica and a scooter!" he marveled, shaking his head slightly. "The driver of the Chrysler was unharmed, but the scooter's owner is in critical condition. We have our own Tony Hickman on the scene!"
Elliot watched as they switched to a younger looking gentleman, with parted black hair. "Yes, that's right, Ethan," he said, and the camera shifted to the scene behind them, which included a severely dented car and a crushed blue scooter. "The driver is indeed safe, and she's going home this evening, but I'm sorry to say that the other was not so lucky." The camera zoomed up towards the driver of the scooter.
The bowl of cereal dropped on the floor, and the milk seeped everywhere. Elliot screamed.
Keith sprinted into the room, wearing merely a pair of boxers. "Elliot, what is it?" He finished putting on his scrubs and hurried to the terrified girl's side.
Starting to sob, Elliot pointed to the television.
On the television, a stretcher was being lifted into the ambulance.
And on that stretcher was John Dorian's bruised, unconcious body.