"See you tomorrow,"
I waved my goodbye as Conni left the lounge, the coffee pot in my other hand. I cupped the mug in both hands and slid into a seat by the table. My eyes refused to focus properly on the chart that lay there, that had to be finished before I could go home. I took a long swallow of my coffee and waited for the caffeine to kick in.
I took off my glasses, pinched the bridge of my nose, and waited. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to rid myself of the knots that had formed there. My watch told me that it was 6:30pm. I had now been awake for just under 24 hours.
My eyes were shut when I heard the first sound. A loud bang, like an explosion. I assumed at first something had been dropped, or a door had been slammed somewhere in the department. Then it happened again, and was accompanied by frenzied screaming. Someone charged into the lounge, clearly panicked, and gestured wildly to me to follow them.
My legs carried me automatically, instinct and adrenaline driving me onwards. There were two further sounds, which by this time I had figured out were gunshots. The entire department was filled with chaos. I got to the trauma room door, and had to take a second to absorb the scene. I turned to the person behind me and dismissed them to get security. It was then I literally dived through the door, instantly falling to my knees on the linoleum floor.
Carter was attempting CPR on my bloodied best friend.
"Shit, what happened?"
I managed eventually. Though I had seen the gun, lying hot and abandoned, as I had come in the door. My eyes travelled over the younger doctor, noting the growing red patch on his upper arm, and the lack of blood in his face. His pallor was very poor.
"Two entry wounds, no respiratory effort, massive blood loss,"
He answered, struggling for breath. He could barely breathe for himself, never mind resuscitate anyone else. But then, I looked down at the body; there wasn't any chance of resuscitation being successful here. My heart was torn apart inside my chest, because I knew he was gone. I grasped the young residents wrists and pulled them away, placing two fingers on Doug's neck. I supposed I hoped to feel something, any sign of life, but I've always been very good at holding onto hope even in the hopeless.
"He's been like this since it happened?"
I asked, feeling fingers tighten hard round my wrist, until it was almost painful.
"I think he's gone,"
It took a while for those words to sink in. I shouldn't let him go without a fight, but I saw the entry wounds, the blood loss, his open and hollow eyes. He had been dead before I got here.
"Do you want me to call it?"
I heard the question asked, but I shook my head.
"No need, he died on impact,"
Time of death: 6:30pm, my mind silently filled in. I struggled to stay together, struggled to stop my mind racing. I felt the soft touch of a hand on my shoulder, followed quickly by a gentle voice.
"Shall I call the coroner?"
I nodded, recognising the other presence as Haleh.
"And call the police. This is a crime scene,"
My best friend had just been murdered. I just sat there. I couldn't move. The vice like grip on my wrist released suddenly, and he moved away from me. I turned and saw Carol, frozen in the doorway. I couldn't speak, I could barely see. I didn't know how I was going to make it through this, I truly didn't.
I left Haleh to deal with the police. Blood ran viciously cold in my veins, and anger had filtered into every cell of my body. I stormed my way through the department, and into the doctor's lounge.
My fist slammed into the cold metal viciously, the door buckling under the blow, my knuckles bruising and complaining. But I repeated the action again and again, releasing my frustration.
After a minute of this unconfined rage, my body began to shake uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. I turned and slid down the locker until I was sitting on the floor.
I tucked my knees up, screwed my eyes shut and tried to bring my emotions under control. But hot, angry tears flowed without bidding, and tense muscles continued to tremble.
My hands were bruised, red raw and bloody. I could feel the warm liquid against my face. But the physical pain seemed inconsequential. It was the helpless rage that tore my soul apart. My hopeless, bitter frustration at the futility of my best friends death and my inability to help him. He'd always been there. But I couldn't be there when he needed me most. I couldn't help him.
He died a violent, pointless death. It was a waste. I'd lost the best friend I ever had tonight and no words can quite describe exactly how that feels, but I was on the point of meltdown. Surging emotions vied for attention and at the vortex was loss, sucking me slowly towards her cold oblivion.
I waved my goodbye as Conni left the lounge, the coffee pot in my other hand. I cupped the mug in both hands and slid into a seat by the table. My eyes refused to focus properly on the chart that lay there, that had to be finished before I could go home. I took a long swallow of my coffee and waited for the caffeine to kick in.
I took off my glasses, pinched the bridge of my nose, and waited. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to rid myself of the knots that had formed there. My watch told me that it was 6:30pm. I had now been awake for just under 24 hours.
My eyes were shut when I heard the first sound. A loud bang, like an explosion. I assumed at first something had been dropped, or a door had been slammed somewhere in the department. Then it happened again, and was accompanied by frenzied screaming. Someone charged into the lounge, clearly panicked, and gestured wildly to me to follow them.
My legs carried me automatically, instinct and adrenaline driving me onwards. There were two further sounds, which by this time I had figured out were gunshots. The entire department was filled with chaos. I got to the trauma room door, and had to take a second to absorb the scene. I turned to the person behind me and dismissed them to get security. It was then I literally dived through the door, instantly falling to my knees on the linoleum floor.
Carter was attempting CPR on my bloodied best friend.
"Shit, what happened?"
I managed eventually. Though I had seen the gun, lying hot and abandoned, as I had come in the door. My eyes travelled over the younger doctor, noting the growing red patch on his upper arm, and the lack of blood in his face. His pallor was very poor.
"Two entry wounds, no respiratory effort, massive blood loss,"
He answered, struggling for breath. He could barely breathe for himself, never mind resuscitate anyone else. But then, I looked down at the body; there wasn't any chance of resuscitation being successful here. My heart was torn apart inside my chest, because I knew he was gone. I grasped the young residents wrists and pulled them away, placing two fingers on Doug's neck. I supposed I hoped to feel something, any sign of life, but I've always been very good at holding onto hope even in the hopeless.
"He's been like this since it happened?"
I asked, feeling fingers tighten hard round my wrist, until it was almost painful.
"I think he's gone,"
It took a while for those words to sink in. I shouldn't let him go without a fight, but I saw the entry wounds, the blood loss, his open and hollow eyes. He had been dead before I got here.
"Do you want me to call it?"
I heard the question asked, but I shook my head.
"No need, he died on impact,"
Time of death: 6:30pm, my mind silently filled in. I struggled to stay together, struggled to stop my mind racing. I felt the soft touch of a hand on my shoulder, followed quickly by a gentle voice.
"Shall I call the coroner?"
I nodded, recognising the other presence as Haleh.
"And call the police. This is a crime scene,"
My best friend had just been murdered. I just sat there. I couldn't move. The vice like grip on my wrist released suddenly, and he moved away from me. I turned and saw Carol, frozen in the doorway. I couldn't speak, I could barely see. I didn't know how I was going to make it through this, I truly didn't.
I left Haleh to deal with the police. Blood ran viciously cold in my veins, and anger had filtered into every cell of my body. I stormed my way through the department, and into the doctor's lounge.
My fist slammed into the cold metal viciously, the door buckling under the blow, my knuckles bruising and complaining. But I repeated the action again and again, releasing my frustration.
After a minute of this unconfined rage, my body began to shake uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. I turned and slid down the locker until I was sitting on the floor.
I tucked my knees up, screwed my eyes shut and tried to bring my emotions under control. But hot, angry tears flowed without bidding, and tense muscles continued to tremble.
My hands were bruised, red raw and bloody. I could feel the warm liquid against my face. But the physical pain seemed inconsequential. It was the helpless rage that tore my soul apart. My hopeless, bitter frustration at the futility of my best friends death and my inability to help him. He'd always been there. But I couldn't be there when he needed me most. I couldn't help him.
He died a violent, pointless death. It was a waste. I'd lost the best friend I ever had tonight and no words can quite describe exactly how that feels, but I was on the point of meltdown. Surging emotions vied for attention and at the vortex was loss, sucking me slowly towards her cold oblivion.