Chapter 1 - It's Still Not Easy

"You're lucky, it's quite calm at the moment.," I hear Susan say as I enter the Admit Desk to start my shift, "Just make sure you check Mrs. Bright in two and the little girl in four."

I nod and put a pen into my pocket, grabbing a chart. It's just one of those boring days where everything goes its own way. Without paying attention I let my eyes wander over the chart. It seems to be nothing special when suddenly something catches my eye. "Abby", I mumble to myself reading the name of the patient.

"Did you just say something?" Susan asks me, but I shake my head coming back into reality.

Abigail Jones, it says. A fourteen year old girl. It doesn't matter. Just the name drives me nuts. All the pictures coming back to my head. Abby when she's sleeping, Abby when she laughs, Abby when she's sad, when she's happy.... Abby the last time I saw her. I still don't understand why it all had to happen one of a sudden.

"Earth to Carter!" Luka breaks my memories, "You better get something done before Weaver catches you!" He laughs and walks up to the board, "She's not exactly in a good mood today!"

"In a second," I answer switching to another chart. I'm not in the mood for this right now. Not today.

My first patient is an elderly woman who fell down the stairs, nothing unusual. I try to calm her down while examining her seemingly broken leg. Luckily she is one of those people who calm down soon and trust you. I don't feel like arguing. After a while she starts to talk about her dog and I drift back in thoughts when I hear someone screaming my name.

"Carter, we have a MVA coming in - ETA five minutes!" Susan hands me a coat and we head outside into the ambulance bay, "It sounded pretty bad. Head on collision. They're bringing in one of the drivers and a little girl. The mother is still trapped inside of their car."

Nobody says a word. Kerry divides us into groups. Susan and I will work on the girl. We just look at each other. Even though we do this everyday it's still not easy, especially when kids are involved. They have so many things yet to discover, to learn, to experience. There's so much in front of them.

I hope it's not too bad. The guy on the radio said that she is at conscious and got pretty lucky, but things can change on the way. I just don't want to think about it. No word about the mother. They're probably still trying to get her out of the car.

A few minutes later the ambulances drives into the bay. We run to the car as the doors are opening. Thoughts and feelings run through my head. It's this first second, this first sight that is the most frightening. I look at the girl. Her clothes are covered in blood, and she constantly tries to move without success. She's so tiny, no older than seven.

Luckily she's awake and the blood is probably not her own. Her dark brown eyes look at me totally afraid. "Mommy, where is my mommy?" She cries, still trying to get off the gurney.

"Sweetie, you have to keep still!", Susan tries to calm her down, stroking her head, "We have to make sure that you're ok. Your Mom will be here soon!" Saying the last sentence she looks at me worried.

I bend down to speak to her while we bring the gurney inside, "Hey I'm John, can you tell me your name, honey?"

"Joanne," she sobs. "Where is my Mommy?!"

We bring her to trauma one and start examining her. It looks good so far. She just has a broken arm and a few bruises and cuts. Nothing serious yet, but we decide to send her in for a head CT just in case.

"Joanne, we will bring you to another room to see if your head is ok. You don't have to be afraid. It won't hurt. We will just take a picture of it," I explain to her and she observes my tiniest movement, "Are you ready to go?"

For a second she says nothing, but then looks deep into my eyes, "Can you come with me?"

I smile at her, "Yes I will go with you, don't be scared!" She nods and we wheel her out of the trauma room.

I hope that they get the mother out soon. Even though Joanne seems quiet her eyes don't lie. She's scared and sad. Abby used to have the same expression in her eyes when she was worried and scared. It was the worst. She would never admit that she was scared. She would try to seem brave and fine, but inside she was more than worried.

I shook my head. It was the wrong place, time, and situation to think about Abby. She was gone, it was over and I shouldn't be thinking about her at all.

I spot Kerry on the hallway as she walks up to me, "The driver didn't make it!".

I can tell she is exhausted. It must have been bad. "What about the mother?" I ask her.

"No news yet"

On the way upstairs I try to make the situation for Joanne as comfortable as I can. She seems very mature for her age. "Joanne, can you tell me how old you are?"

She smiles at me proudly, "I'm seven! It was my birthday last week and I had a big party with all my friends."

"That sounds great," Susan says and strokes the girl's beautiful brown her. She is really pretty and I wonder how beautiful her parents must be to have such a cute daughter.

"Joanne, can you tell me where you dad is? Do you know if we can call him somewhere?", I ask her cautiously and suddenly she seems different.

"I don't have a Dad. My mom left him when I was a baby," she states without a trace of emotion.

We don't have to wait long to get her into the CT Room and just as we finish our pagers start to beep. It's the ER: They got the mother out.

The elevator ride seems endless and Susan and I are both relieved when we're back down. Luka, Kerry, Chuny and Haleh are waiting for us, "They managed to cut her out!"

As we're walking outside Kerry tells us the details, "She was hit really bad. She's unconscious, doesn't response to anything. Seems like she has broken a few bones, her spine might be injured. They had to intubate and shock her twice while cutting her out. It doesn't look good. She might be DOA."

You can see how tense everybody is. We avoid each others glances, everybody looks into another direction. Please not DOA. It will destroy everything for her little daughter. This can't be happening.

Finally the ambulance arrives. The doors open. The gurney is pushed outside. It's hard to see anything. The whole tiny body is covered in blood, the dressings and clothes are soaked, a chaos of medical supplies on top.

It takes a few seconds to recognize that this is a young woman. Then suddenly I hear a cry.

Susan screams, "Oh my God! She looks like Abby!"

I rush to her side and see it with my own eyes.

"It IS Abby!"