I watched as the line on the heart monitor of the little boy I was treating went flat. It stayed flat. I couldn't believe it. This was the third patient I had lost that day. I guess I let it get to me cause I couldn't help it, I turned, slapped the machine off and then swung around, sending my fist into the wall. I hated it when children died. This little boy had been in a car accident. The mother had fallen asleep at the wheel, sending their small sedan into oncoming traffic. It sucks, children suffer because their parents make stupid mistakes. The mother was going to be fine. All she had was a broken arm.
"Luka, are you all right?" I was torn from my thoughts when I heard the voice of Mark Green.
"Yeah, it just sometimes gets to me." I said, not wanting to further explain. Mark shrugged his shoulders.
"You can't save them all." Ha. Yeah, right. That is easy for you to say. This isn't the third patient that you've lost today. There were many things I could have said but I would never say them. I've been told I don't say much. I like it that way. It seems when I open my mouth everything comes out wrong. I just gave Mark a small smile instead.
" I know." I cast one last glance at the boy before I left the trauma room.

I sighed as I walked into the lounge. I looked at the clock, hoping, praying, that maybe it would be almost time to get out of here. No such luck. I still had three hours left on my shift. When did time begin to pass so slowly? I remember when these shifts used to fly by. I opened my locker, rummaging through it to find my one life line. In moments I had found what I was looking for, my pocket knife. I closed my fingers around its smooth, cool metal. Looking around, to make sure no one saw , I slipped it into my coat pocket. I had to make this quick or I knew I would lose my chance. Someone would be coming around saying that there are patients that need to be seen. I made my way as quickly as possible to a vacant restroom stall. Once I had shut the door and locked it, I removed the knife from my pocket. I rolled my shirt sleeve up and put the blade to my skin. As I pulled, all I felt was the release it brought. It was hard to remember when this all started or even why it started. I think it was a few years ago. I don't know, the days are getting to be pretty hazy. I remember I was slicing something for dinner. I missed what I was slicing and cut my hand. It was the weirdest experience, I didn't even feel it. I just stood there, mesmerized by the red blood that was running down my hand and pooling on the counter. I was brought back to the present when I heard voices in the men's room. I made a few more cuts, since I had a feeling the next three hours were probably going to be crazy. I rolled my shirt sleeve back down and slipped the knife back into my pocket. I exited the stall and left without looking up. I failed to notice that Mark was staring at me the entire time I walked out of there.