Greetings, readers! And welcome to chapter three.

I want to take a moment to thank all my reveiwers. THANK YOU, REVIEWERS!!

Just a quick heads up: italics mean pager messages. And this chapter is in Dr. Cox's POV.

Dr. Cox, we need you to come in today after all.

I winced as I read the words on the small screen. I really didn't feel like going into work today, but I didn't feel like getting fired either, so I reluctantly pulled myself off the couch and away from any hope of having a good day.

Jordan had taken Jack, um, somewhere, and they weren't going to get home until that afternoon, giving me the whole apartment to myself. But, like I said before, I had to kiss that wonderful day goodbye, instead going to the horrible place I like to refer to as hell.

While I was walking up the steps, I ran into Kelso. He was eating a croissant so big he would probably be dead by the time he finished it. "Hey, Bobo, why'd you page me?" I asked.

"Mumphshculofhjsxn," he mumbled his mouth full of croissant.

"Okay, you might want to finish that walrus of a bite first."

He swallowed. "We have a lot of patients today."

"Did it occur to you that maybe you could be in there, I don't know, doing your job, instead of eating? See, then you wouldn't have had to page me, because everything you want me to do would all ready be done, and not just done, but done by you," I said.

He glared at me. "Perry, did it occur to you that I'm the boss and I'll do whatever the hell I want? Now get to work." He violently ripped a piece of croissant off with his teeth and dramatically stomped away into the building.

The second I walked through the doors, a nurse came up to me with at least twenty charts. "These," she told me, dumping them into my arms. "Are yours."

I really hate this place.

I whistled, and a bunch of my interns immediately showed up. "Now, everyone," I started, holding up a few charts. "I have these patients, here, see them? I need you to treat them for me." I tossed a chart to each of the five interns present like a frisbee and watched as they clattered to the floor. The charts, not the interns. "Now go, do your jobs." Just as quickly as they had come, the interns scurried away.

Resisting the sudden urge to throw the sixteen charts I was still holding at unsuspecting people, I went to go see my first patient.

Room 210

I was immediately up and racing down the hall after reading the message. It had been a rather slow day so far, for me at least, as far as patients go, seeing as I was able to pawn them off to interns and Newbie, who was simply in the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, there was paperwork galore.

But, out of the patients I did have, there was one in particular that I liked: Ms. Anderson. She wasn't really one of my patients, just a resident's who was known for killing people. And you'll never guess what room she was in. Yes, that's right, 210.

When I got there, they were already pulling the sheet over her head. Did I mention that I hate this place?

I leaned against the doorway and watched as they wheeled her by me and out of the room, then walked over to the window and stared down at the parking lot. I wondered where Carla was, she was supposed to have a shift today.

Just as I thought that, I saw her car pulling into the lot. Deciding to go back to the break room, I pulled the windows closed and walked out of the room and into the strangely quiet hallway.

A few seconds later, I heard a loud noise, like a gunshot, coming from direction of the parking lot, but I didn't really think anything of it.

Emergcy roomm

That didn't really make sense. I turned back to watching TV, propping my feet up on the table.

Cara bee so

That made even less sense, and I was getting annoyed. Who dares to interrupt my TV time with pointless messages?

What do you want? I paged. I wanted to say something longer and much more threatening, but the miniature keypads are to hard to operate.

It was a few seconds before they replied, Carla was shot. Get your ass down here!

I dropped the pager. What the hell?

I will kill you if this is a joke

Ass, ER, NOW! I could literally see the anger in the black typed letters, making me wonder exactly who I was talking to. Whoever they were, I did what they said.

"Okay," I announced as I stepped out of the elevator. "Which one of you idiots are responsible for paging me?"

All I got were dumb looks, mostly from people I had never even seen before.

"Come on, I'll kill you either way, so you might as well talk, cause then I might not kill your family too." Then someone raised their hand. It was Gandhi, looking weak, pathetic and horribly angry, sitting in a chair with Clarissa next to him. "And why'd you page me?" He looked away. "Room?" He pointed to a nearby room. "Seriously?" He stood up and walked away.

I felt like I had to keep talking; if I stopped this was all real. "So, Brittney, your hair's looking especially girly today," I informed him as I sat in the chair Gandhi had just vacated .

He either didn't hear me or was ignoring me, and although normally this would be a cause for celebration, I needed someone to talk to. "Did you hear me?"

The only sounds were the scuffing of shoes as people walked by and someone in the background yelling for a gurney.

"Jasmine..." I said quietly, addressing this to him but talking to myself. "What happened to Carla?"

He swiftly stood up and stormed away like his friend had done moments earlier, obviously trying not cry. I felt like I kicked a puppy. And then drowned it. And tortured it...

After a while I got tired of waiting outside her room, so I left, trying and failing to leave the pain and puppy sensation behind.

out of surgery

I could do a little dance I was so glad. I glanced around; no one was there. Oh, what the hell...

"...are you doing, this is a hospital, not a strip club!" I looked up from my dance to see the creator of that horrible analogy about my wonderful dancing.

"She's out of surgery!" I exclaimed, sounding like a little kid who got everything he wanted for his birthday, to my dismay.

"Who's out of surgery?" 'Dr.' Bob Kelso asked.

"Carla."

His face scrunched up as he pretended to concentrate. "That's not ringing any bells..."

"Really, cause you see her every day. And, even though it never stops shocking me, you are the cheif of medicine here. That makes me wonder: why aren't you the least bit worried that one of your nurses got shot right in front of this place?" I asked him, my semi-okay mood fading.

"Oh, you mean Nurse..." He seemed lost.

"Espinosa," I supplied. Just then the pager from hell beep-beeped.

She's crashing rm201

The Devil of Sacred heart was looking over my shoulder, reading the message. "Who's crashing?" I will kill you, Kelso!!

I don't remember punching him. I don't remember running down the hall and up the stairs.

The next thing I do remember is standing outside room 201, panting for air. I looked through the window on the door and didn't see Carla. I just saw an empty bed.

"Damn," I said quietly. I grabbed a conveniently located gurney and swung it against the wall. It bounced off and fell on its side, mostly unharmed, but I still felt a little better.

'Beep,' the pager said. I threw it, and it skidded across the floor. Barbie ran by, crying her eyes out.

"Barbie!" I yelled. She spun around.

"Oh god," she said at a tone barely higher than a whisper. "Oh my god." With that, she turned back around and threw herself into a room a few doors away which I am pretty sure is a maintenance closet.

The pager started beeping. The idea of hiding in a closet was getting more and more appealing. I picked up the pager and stopped myself from throwing it again when I saw the message.

Room 210

I heard the distinct beep of a flat-lining heart monitor from down the hall, and felt a weird sinking feeling in my chest.

When I looked in the room, they were pulling the thin, robin-blue sheet over her small and strangely unlifelike head.

Her dull and lifeless brown eyes were wide and open, but nobody bothered closing them.

Have I told you that I hate this place?

Was this great? Okay? Horrible? Does it make you want to puke? Why don't you tell me in a review?

(And I apologise if I made anybody puke. Really, I do.)