First off, I would like to thank those who took the time to read this as well as add this to their story alerts and favorites. I especially love those who reviewed. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. They help me improve and become a better writer.

IMPORTANT: for the sake of plot lines, I will have some medical terminology and procedures be incorrect. For example, of you watch any medical-related shows you'll realize how an autopsy will take like ten minutes . . . Yeah, in real life it could take years. Again, I'm letting you know now. If you have a problem with it, let me know I will edit everything once the story is done. Oh and it might move a little fast. Enjoy!

-*Dimitri*-

I never wanted to end up like him. My father. He was named one of the best doctors in the world, yet he succumbed to the very pressure that used to empower him, give him hope and strength. One of the greatest men I knew fell into a deep and dark depression. My father has operated on many people, as have I. When I was five or six, I started paying attention to what it was he did. He was a surgeon.

I always wanted to watch him, but he would always refuse, never giving me a solid answer just saying the usual, "You're too young." I would always stay quiet and retort back to him in my head. I would always when fights there and imagine the true reason he didn't want me in the room. Maybe he think's I won't know how to do it right.

I strived to be like him. In high school, I joined HOSA, Health Occupation Students of America. It was fun. My Heath science teacher had us go to Regional competition. I wanted to do more than more event, specifically those with partners. That was all during my freshman year. When I became an upper classman, I got an acceptance letter from a committee, giving thanks to me for taking an interest in the medical field. I was given a two-paged letter offering me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to a different state and watch some of the greatest professionals perform surgeries.

My father's name was on the list of said professionals. The day I told my mother, she cried tears of joy and said she had always believed in me. Babushka only looked at me. To outsiders, she could come off as cold, but I knew she wasn't a touchy-feely type of person. Her way of showing me love was . . . different. She had a 'sixth sense' if you will. I would always joke about how she should be a physic when one of her visions would come true.

The day of my departure, I asked her if she saw anything. The only thing she told me was, "Watch your surroundings," and "I love you. Come back famous." I smiled and went on my way.

The committee had us staying in hotels those three nights. I would always cherish those memories, some good, some bad. On the final day, we had something similar to a residency, where we were allowed to assist in surgeries. My buddy, Ivan -as well as a few other classmates- got a chance to be inside the room with my father, a few of his friends and nurses.

My peers were making bets on who would crash and burn. It was a rare opportunity, but one of the admins were letting two of us in a group perform. "We need one more! Ah..." The woman was looking around. "Young man, go join your father . . . Young man."

"Dimitri." Ivan.

"Dimitri Belikov!"

My vision suddenly turned white; not from the flashback of the bright lights but of my coming to the present and seeing the bright walls of the clinic. "Yes," I said, standing up. "That's me." The woman gave a short, "Come with me," and led me to a close friend's room. When she opened the door, I was met with ice-blue eyes, pale skin and raven hair. Christian Ozera.

I sat down on the white couch across from his black rolling chair. Christian and I knew each other from college. When he needed an experiment for class, I was there. While doing these experiments, he got to know me and I him. He knew about my past and my struggle to stay sane. After everything that had happened, that man I considered my idol and hero had let me down. He knew it. Mama knew it.

Now, I was paying the price. I was always told by Babushka to never put so much hope - as I had done to him- in people because they would let you down. It was just get worse and worse after it happened once. I didn't want to make the same mistake again.

"It's happening again, isn't it?"

I nodded, "It's getting worse. She's here." He nodded and it was silent. "How is-"

"Good."

"Dimitri-"

"Don't. I just wanted to let you know of her arrival. Nothing more. I'll update you when I can." Hesitantly, he nodded. He walked me to the door and opened. "O-one more thing before you go." I looked into his icy-blue eyes and saw sadness. "Don't make the same mistake."