HALEY

Hospitals are depressing to be in. They're full of sicknesses, diseases, and people who are just waiting to die. It's even worse if you work at one. You see the sick and the diseased and the dead on a regular basis, and unless you figure out some way to cope with everything, you won't make it; there's just no way you can make it.

It takes a certain type of person to be a doctor. Sure you need the brains, an aptitude for science and the capability to cope with various problems, but, above all, you need to have the desire to help people. If you don't have that, you'll get crushed within days. I've seen it happen too, aspiring men and women who fail to go a week in their first year of residency because they don't have what it takes. And when they see their first death, when they make their first call, when they feel the weight of someone's life on their shoulders, they give up.

I learned what it means to care for people from an old friend of mine, my best friend. He was the strangest, yet most endearing person I have ever met. His name is James.

James stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life. He showed me what it means to be a hero, to impact someone's life so drastically that it even saves them. I haven't seen him for almost ten years, but I still think about him.

He's the reason why I went into medicine.

A Code Red in the hospital I work at means that a disaster has occurred and casualties are on the way. Normally, the word "casualties" is used as a relative term to the disaster, and in this case, an earthquake in a city that rarely has shocks so massive, I know that those casualties are going to be high.

Today is going to be busy.

For some reason, knowing what I'm going to expect doesn't make doing my job any easier.

It is a mad house. I barely have any time to make a medical assessment before another person comes through the double doors and I have to do it all over again. For me, how I treat and handle patients is kinda like how those stage performers balance spinning plates: you have to balance your time and energy on all of them perfectly or else they'll fall. I've done that to the best of my ability since my first day as a doctor and today is no different. One after another, the EMT's bring in the next plate to spin and I have to balance them along with the rest.

There are so many that come in too late, men, women, even some children (Ask any doctor. It's harder to call in the death of a child than an adult). A boy, probably no older than seven, lays motionless on the bed. I look at his small, broken body. Trauma to the head caused internal bleeding and he died on the way to the hospital.

He barely lived his life. His little fingers are soft to the touch. His face still has a rosy hue from childhood innocence. An overwhelming feeling of sadness grips my stomach and doesn't let go. The nurse beside me feels the same way. As she holds her stomach, her hands tremble.

I can't look anymore, so I turn around and face the wall. Closing my eyes, I focus on my task at hand. He was dead before he came to me, there was nothing I could've done, I whisper to myself. There are people here that I can help. Saying it out loud loosens the grip on my stomach. I have to remember: this is what I live for. I'm going to do everything in my power to help them, even if their time has come.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I count to five to clear my head. "There's nothing we could've done," I say aloud.

"I... I know," The nurse says as she nods her head and leaves. She's still shaking.

A call from behind gets me out of my head. "Doctor, can you help me, please?"

A woman walks towards me in a dust covered blazer supporting a young boy, followed closely by a second, younger, woman. The boy cradles his right arm and I notice the still drying tears over his dusty face. Throwing my stethoscope around my neck, I meet up with them. "Was he also in the earthquake?"

"Yes," she replies. "I think he has a dislocated shoulder."

As she assists me to put him on a gurney, I notice a badge hanging on her belt. "Thank you, Officer," I say while simultaneously calling over a nearby nurse.

"It's White. Agent Sarah White."

"Thank you, Agent White." I say as she stands back, uncomfortably readjusting her blazer. I give her a nod of reassurance, to let her know that she did everything she could've done. "We can handle it from here."

"Is he going to be okay?" the younger girl asks.

"Yes," I assure her. I look at him. "What's your name?"

"Jacob."

"Jacob, can you lift your arm by yourself?" With a shake of his head, I nod to Belle, a nearby nurse. "Let's get this sweater off."

Belle takes some scissors and cuts his shirt and sweater in half so we can inspect his arm with as little discomfort as possible. "His right upper extremity is internally rotated," she notes. "The head of the humerus is protruding anteriorly."

I take a mental note of her observations. Pressing gently on his shoulder, he whimpers and looks away. "Jacob, on a scale from one to ten," I say, "how badly does it hurt?"

He bites his lower lip and wipes his eyes with the back of his free hand. "Six."

I look at Belle to tell her that it probably hurts a lot more than he'll admit before I continue with my examination. No crepitus is noted. His clavicle, mid and distal humerus, and elbow and forearm are all non-tender. His sensation and pulses are intact distally and his axillary nerve function is also intact.

"Give him 2 milligrams of morphine intravenously and then bring him down to Radiology so we can get some X-Rays of that right shoulder."

Belle nods her head and takes him away, another one come and gone.

A pat on my shoulder gets my attention. It's the girl again. "Doctor... uh?" she says carefully, trying to find the name tag on my white coat.

"Haley," I help her out. "You can just call me Haley."

The girl gives me a hug. It's a little unexpected. "Thank you, Haley."

"You're welcome," I reply, embracing the appreciation. "And you are?"

"My name is Amber."

"Are you related to Jacob?"

"No," she says slowly, as if saying it quickly would mean something entirely different. She shrugs her shoulders. "I just met him today."

"Really? You seem pretty concerned about a stranger you've just met, Amber. That's very noble. I don't meet too many people like you." I look to her with a warm smile. "You must be some kind of hero."

She chuckles and shakes her head. "We were in the middle of both earthquakes together... and I was there for him when he needed me."

"He looks about fourteen years old," I muse out loud. "Why were you and Agent White the ones to bring him in? Where are his parents?"

All I get is a shrug. "He's thirteen, but I don't know where his parents are. He and I were stuck in a supply closet and Sarah saved us after the second shock."

"What about you? Where are your parents?"

Scoffing like I had just insulted her, she raises her nose a little higher than mine. "I'm nineteen years old, thank you very much."

"Doesn't mean you don't have parents," I counter.

She gives in. "I came with my mom, but I wasn't with her when the earthquakes happened. I don't know where she is." She pauses and then continues. "I'm sure she's fine. I'm more concerned about Jacob. I don't think his parents are very nice people."

"What makes you say that?"

Amber looks away from me very quickly as if she's hiding something. Hesitantly, she crosses her arms. "I don't know if I should say anything."

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me. I was just curious."

"Well," she begins, "before the second shock hit, he was in the middle of telling me how upset he was about his parents' divorce. It just seemed like they weren't the best, you know?"

I nod my head.

"It just happened too," she finishes, "so he's not handling it very well."

Parents can be quite an influential part of a child's life. I know first hand the kind of scars a parent can give. It takes a long time to heal from them, to accept them and move on (Fortunately, I didn't have to deal with divorce in my family. I can only imagine what a divorce can do to a young person like Jacob).

"Poor kid," I say. "It's a good thing he has you then."

There is a small twinkle that sparkles in her eyes as I say it. A smile envelopes her face. "Yeah," she proudly nods. "It is a good thing he has me."

No matter how old we are, parents will always have an impact on our lives. My parents used to be extremely strict. Growing up in a world full of prestigious accolades and honors, my parents lived in high society.

When I was born, my life consisted of everything they had growing up and more. It sounds great (I mean, who wouldn't want to have their own personal maid, a private school and a limousine to use whenever they want?) but they worried so much about their own reputation, I was nothing more than a footnote in their life. I didn't have one of my own. They didn't care about what I wanted. I didn't have a voice. It got to a point where I wanted to kill myself.

I almost did.

James was the one who saved me. He helped me see the value of life, even my own.

He was special. Literally. He could literally do whatever he wanted and go wherever he pleased. James could transport to any destination he thought of in a matter of seconds, and he would take me there. He helped me see a world outside of the cramped lifestyle my parents planned out for me.

I've learned a lot since then.

I talk about my parents as if they were terrible people, but they weren't terrible people; they just didn't go about raising me in the best way. As I got older, my relationship with them improved, especially with my mother. After High School, they didn't push their lives on me. I was given the choice to do what I wanted and they supported me in my decision to become a doctor.

When I think about it, I owe it all to James.

Jacob returns from Radiology with a confirmation that he has a dislocated shoulder. We perform the scapular manipulation technique to put it back in place with little complications.

"How do you feel, Jacob?" I ask as I hand him a shirt to put on.

He shrugs, tugging on the strap of the sling we put his arm in. "Fine."

He's probably said less than ten words to me since I've treated him. It makes me smile. I guess Jacob isn't a very talkative person, unless, of course, he's talking to Amber.

As soon as she walks into the room, they pick up right where they left off. She asks him about how he feels about the divorce since they didn't get to finish their conversation. Jacob looks at me suspiciously, lowering his voice so that I can't hear what he has to say.

Taking the hint, I leave the room.

Opening the door, I am met by Agent White. She extends her hand, shaking mine as she does. "Hello, Doctor. I don't know if you remember me. I brought in the young boy with the shoulder."

"I remember."

"May I have a word with you?"

"Sure, Agent White," I reply.

"Call me Sarah."

"Alright. What can I do for you, Sarah?"

She looks directly into my eyes with a sense of urgency, the kind where bad news is about to be given. "I need to take Jacob down to the morgue to identify some bodies. We believe they may be his parents."

I hit it right on the head.

Still, the words hit me like a ton of bricks. I don't know why I'm shocked, but my heart is pained by the news. I can only imagine how Jacob is going to take it. My sympathy for him grows deeper. Not only does his parents get a divorce, but both of them die in a freak disaster.

"Yeah," she says to fill in the silence. "I've never done this before, and I wasn't sure if I needed your permission. I thought I should just tell you before I took him down there."

I can barely hear what she says to me. My mind is stuck on Jacob's current situation. Quietly, I nod my head, allowing her to walk pass me into his room. Turning around, I watch as Sarah begins to speak. His face is a window to his emotions. It is an expression of stoic nonchalance, and the more she speaks, the more emotion he tries to suppress. I can see it in his eyes. His eyes are screaming even though his mouth doesn't give it a voice.

Even if you're not a doctor, you have to learn how to deal with loss because it's something everyone goes through, it happens every single day. Death is a normal part of life but, when it happens, somehow we always have trouble accepting it.

Slowly, Sarah leads Jacob down the corridor to the elevator. She hesitates to put her hand on his shoulder before finally she lets it fall back down. I don't think he even notices. He continues to wear apathy like a mask, hiding the storm that rages underneath his skin. Amber stands next to me and watches as they walk away. I look at her. She has so much care in her eyes.

"You should be with him," I say with reassurance.

She turns to me but doesn't respond. I look to her again but she doesn't look back. Her gaze falls upon another body that comes through the double doors behind me.

"Mom?" she gasps.

Immediately she's at her side, asking questions and trying to get her mother's attention. Sadly, she doesn't even know Amber is there. The EMT gives his report to the closest physician: Female, mid forties, massive blood loss, rapidly decreasing heart rate. Injuries to the anterior abdomen and legs. A team of respiratory therapists and nurses help to rush the gurney to the OR.

Amber tries to follow but they won't allow her to. She asks them if her mother will be alright and a nurse tells her that they're going to do their best. The sad thing is that I already know what the outcome is going to be. After a while you can tell which ones are going to make it and which ones aren't.

Amber shakes. She trembles, left alone to stare at the back of the cold double doors. She probably has a million questions plaguing her mind but the only answer she has at the moment is full of uncertainty. Instinctively, I take her by the arm and lead her away from the mess. She needs to get her mind off of her mother.

"Amber," I try to get her attention.

"Where are they taking her?"

"Amber, look at me."

"There was so much blood..."

"Amber."

"Oh God, there was so much blood."

Taking her by the shoulders, I shake her. "Amber, stop thinking."

She looks into my eyes. "What?"

"Count to five."

"No! My mother is God knows where and I'm not there with her! Where is she?"

Her hands are quivering. I take them into mine, calming my voice as I do so. "Amber," I whisper. "Take a deep breath. Count to five."

Amber hesitates, but I nod my head to reassure her that everything will be okay. She closes her eyes, exhales, and says it slowly. "One... Two... Three...Four... Five."

"I know you're worried about your mother right now," I say with as much sympathy as I can give, "but you need to keep yourself together."

"Why?"

I know just what to say. "Because Jacob needs you right now. He needs someone who can comfort him. His parents are dead, Amber. Help him."

She stops trembling. "You're right," she nods. "Jacob needs me to be strong. Jacob needs me to be there for him."

It doesn't matter how we do it, but we all have to find a way to deal with loss. We have to try our best to push through it any way we can or we'll be consumed.

Sarah stands a few feet away from the morgue door, arms crossed, head down. She paces across the floor with a concerned look on her face. She looks up as we approach. "What are you doing here?"

"Amber wanted to come down here so I volunteered to take her."

She nods her head and looks back at the door, which is slightly ajar.

"How is he?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know. He looked at the bodies, nodded his head and, very quietly, told me to leave. I haven't heard anything in the last-"

Amber suddenly runs by so quickly she almost knocks Sarah over. "Please be there!" she gasps.

"Help!" Jacob's voice suddenly echoes through the morgue doors. It's muffled, but full of urgency. "Let go of me!" he screams again. "Help! Help!"

There are so many things running through my mind: Why is he screaming for help? He's in a morgue. The only other persons in the room are dead. How did Amber know Jacob was going to cry for help? It's almost as if she knew he was going to do it.

I run to his voice, followed closely by Sarah. Amber is the first to reach the handles and to throw the doors open. "Don't touch him!" she yells.

A man has Jacob by the arm, pulling him closer to the back of the room. The intruder is wearing a black suit, hemmed, and fitted. The narrow tie around his neck is loosened at the collar. His face looks familiar.

Our eyes make contact.

"Haley?" He says in shock.

Oh my God.

Amber rushes in.

He looks at me one final time and disappears right in front of our eyes.

"Damn it!" Amber curses.

Sarah stumbles to the spot where he disappeared, touching the farthest wall. She's probably more shocked about the disappearing act than Jacob's kidnapping, but there's no way for me to know for sure.

"What the hell was that?" she stutters.

Apparently I am right again.

"Who the hell was that?"

My mind flashes back to a time when I was lost, when I was young, back to when a boy helped me to become a better person, back when I was comfortable, safe. And happy. I can see his face. I can hear his laugh. "James," I whisper.

"What?" Sarah asks.

"His name is James."