4. Vivianna
VIVIANNA
GET YO ASS OUT OF BED! YOU GOT SHIT TO DO TODAY! I AIN’T PLAYING WITH YOU GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!
I groaned as my alarm yanked me out of a sleep so deep, I didn’t even know where I was.
I opened my eyes and glared at the clock, slapping it only to see that I only had thirty minutes to get ready and bolt out the door.
I flopped over, rubbing my face and trying to wake up enough to leave my bed.
I felt like death warmed over—which wasn’t unusual—but this time I woke up wearing clothes stained with someone else’s blood.
“That’s a new one. I’m always so good about taking a shower after my shift and changing so I don’t bring work into bed with me.
” Then I remembered the events of last night and sat upright, looking over my clothes.
I wasn’t wearing scrubs from work, I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans—my favorite pair, I might add.
“Motherfucker! How the hell am I going to get the blood out now that it’s been sitting for the past however many hours!” I yelled at my jeans, demanding an answer.
“Ah! This is why we can’t have nice things, Viv. You never take care of them.” I continued to grumble at myself as I got out of bed and stripped out of the crusty clothes. “I’ll just have to soak them in the bathtub while I’m at work and hope for the best.”
Ever since I was little, I’d had this strange habit of talking to myself out loud.
I have no idea why I did it, except that it made me feel less lonely.
I didn’t ever expect an answer, but hearing my voice made it seem like someone would eventually listen to me.
My roommates at boarding school thought I was insane and didn’t want to live with me, so I got a room to myself.
Can’t have rumors going around that the ambassador's daughter might be mental. I’d lived alone ever since.
Rushing through my shower, I just washed my body since I’d washed my hair last night.
I always kept it in a long braid down my back anyway.
I loved having long hair—it was the one feminine thing that I indulged in.
Lord knows I had no time or talent for makeup, and I really didn’t need to keep up on much else.
When the weather was decent, I ran, but since that wasn’t super consistent, I did boxing.
It was wonderfully therapeutic for those days when things at the hospital didn’t go the way I wanted.
After losing a patient, a punching bag was my best friend.
I get to release all the feelings that I had to keep locked away from the staff and the patient’s family.
Boxing also helped with being able to manhandle the patients, even though that hadn’t work out so well last night. That man was built like a brick wall—a very good-looking, naked brick wall, but heavy nonetheless.
Even though I’d barely registered at the time that the guy was butt-ass naked. Nope, to me, all I saw was a trauma. His friend Alpha, though—wait, no, it was Rik-something—I did get the chance to appreciate his looks once I felt like he wasn’t going to kill me.
They both looked like they could be Greek gods with muscles for days—and not the ‘roid rage’ kind, but the ‘I do manual labor and eat spinach’ kind of muscles.
They each had great hair, and can we talk about Rik’s beard?
Oh, how he must get beard envy from all the guys.
Okay, I needed to stop thinking about this or else I was going to end up in a situation that I had no time to take care of.
To be honest, I didn’t think my little pink friend was charged for duty either.
Gotta add that to my list of things to do, ‘cause lord only knew the next time I’d be getting laid.
Hopping out of the shower, I turned the water as cold as I could get it and filled the tub enough to cover my jeans.
Then I ran to my dresser and pulled out a spare set of scrubs.
Now I won’t have to change when I got to the hospital.
Winner day for me all around. I looked up the weather on my phone as I chugged a pre-made protein drink.
Hell yeah, no rain forecasted. I love days that I could ride my bike to work.
The wind in my hair and the speed did something for my soul.
Looping my messenger bag across my chest, I grabbed my bike from its place in the hallway and jogged down the steps.
Once on the pavement, I tossed my leg over the seat and set off, deciding to take the longer route along the Thames.
Sunrises bouncing off the river made the city just a little more magical.
Even though the sun wasn’t up yet, it didn’t stop people from bustling their way to work.
I loved the flow of the city, I craved the commotion and activity.
I was a cog in the large mechanism that was London.
Arriving at the hospital, I saw that there were already two ambulances being unloaded. I locked my bike up in the designated spot for medical staff and jogged in, ready to get my hands dirty.
The thrill of my work got my blood pumping like no drug ever could.
One of my teachers always taught me to “be scared, be very scared,” because the moment you became comfortable with a job like this was the moment you’d miss something.
I ducked into the locker room and stowed away my bag, then headed to the check-in desk where I would get directions from the lead fellow.
“What are you doing here?” Bridget asked when I walked up.
“Um… my job. I’m scheduled for a shift today. My day off isn’t until Thursday, and it’s Sunday,” I said, playing dumb.
Maybe if I didn’t say anything about my dad and his meddling, then no one else would.
“Guess the Chief must be getting senile—he left me a note saying that you quit. That’s what happens when you let a guy who’s almost seventy run a department as demanding as the A the bike hit and run will be too boring. He’ll be taken away to another department once I look him over. I want someone to hang out with for a while.”
“Christ, you’re a sadist. Always searching for the worst when it’s just an idiot kid with a loss of brain cells,” Bridget said, shaking her head and handing me the chart. “Could you at least try to have this kid out by the end of your shift?”
“No promises. I can already think of five tests I want to run on him, and I haven’t even introduced myself,” I said, backing away from her and heading to the curtained-off section where my first patient of the day waited.
Pulling back the curtain with a flourish, I looked around the room wildly. “I was told Tony Hawk was in here!”
“Feck off, you wanker, there’s no Tony Hawk here. My head really fecking hurts, so give me some meds for it an’ I’ll be tops,” the teen said, scowling at me.
“Hmm, Tony you are not, but before I can give you anything, I need to ask some questions. First, what’s your name?” I said, flipping through the chart. Of course, I already knew his name, I just needed to make sure he did.
“Don’t you have it right fecking there in your hands? Bully, you Americans sure can be dense,” the Tony wannabe said, waving his hand at my clipboard.
I got this a lot, even though I was British. Since I’d spent most of my life in a US boarding school and knew three other languages, my English accent was very minimal. Most of the time I just played along with it instead of trying to explain it all.
“Well, we can mark off your eyesight isn’t affected,” I said, making a big deal of checking the fake box on my chart. “Score one for the Yankee.”
“How long is this going to fecking take?” he asked, trying to get up from the gurney.
“If you would simply answer my questions, then I would be happy to speed this along for you,” I said, smiling sweetly at him.
Oh, how I loved to tease the kids who did stupid shit to end up here in my A&E. My hope was that if they remembered how much they hated the last time they were here, it would keep them from doing shit to come back.
“Tim. Timothy Morris. I’m sixteen, so you don’t need to call my mum, okay?” Tim answered, flopping back on the bed.
“Lovely, that will make this go much faster. So, tell me, Tim, what epic stunt did you bollocks up to land here in my A&E?” I asked, posing my pen to take notes.
“Look, me and me pals always skate near the cathedral just a few blocks up from here. We go early in the morn so that no one’s about to get in the way.
I’s been working on this bloody awesome trick when the fecking wheel broke off my board,” Tim said, getting all worked up as he relived the betrayal of his skateboard.
“My feet crumpled under me, and I fell on my fecking head! Now can I get something for my bloody pain?”
“Did you lose consciousness?” I asked, ignoring his request once again, looking him over and checking his head and legs for surface injuries.
“Not that I remember. You’ll have to ask one of me mates to be sure,” Tim admitted.
“While I check in with them, I’m going to have your legs x-rayed to make sure there wasn’t some other reason they gave out on you, and I’ll also get a head CT just to be sure,” I said, writing my orders down for the nurses.