Page 3 of Her Temptations
Rowan
“Bates, we’ve got a two car collision coming in. Three injured victims and one DoS. ETA, five minutes out.”
“Got it.” I took the last bite of my apple and tossed it into the garbage pail behind the desk, then followed my attending physician, Doctor Shaffer, into the ambulance bay. Pulling on a pair of medical gloves, I grabbed a gurney and wheeled it through the doors just as the ambulance pulled up, lights flashing.
“What have you got?” Shaffer asks one of the female EMT’s.
“Daniel Carter. Six year old child, massive head trauma. He was sitting up front when their car was hit, and he hit the dashboard before the airbag deployed. He’s been in and out of consciousness.”
“Get him stabilized and straight to CT,” Shaffer tells one of his nurses. Before I can even consider what kind of treatment this poor kid needs, a second ambo pulls up and another patient is wheeled out. This patient is screaming, and it doesn’t take me long to realize she’s the mother of the little boy.
“Kim Carter is the little boy’s mother,” one of the paramedics, Julia, says to me. “She’s got a chin laceration and a periorbital hematoma. Otherwise stable.”
“Ma’am, my name is Rowan,” I say, taking the woman’s hand. “I’m an EMT and an RN in training. We’re going to take care of you, okay?” I force a smile and rest my hand on the woman’s abdomen. She’s got a cut on her chin and a bruise over her eye, but at least she’s conscious.
Not like her little boy.
“Daniel,” she moans. “My baby. Where is he?”
“He’s being taken to CT for a scan. Doctor Shaffer wants to make sure there’s not an intracranial hemorrhage.”
“Oh, Jesus,” the woman moans. “What does that mean? Is he going to be okay?”
“We need to make sure he doesn’t have a brain bleed,” I clarify. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Someone side blinded us out of nowhere,” Kim says with a sob.
“Drunk driver,” Julia explains, and her face falls into something that is all too familiar in our line of work. Disgust. “The driver is still alive. Unharmed. The police are with him now. The driver’s passenger, his eleven year old daughter, was DoS.”
Just hearing these words makes me want to bend over and vomit, but I know I have to keep it together. This is my job, and I have people to help.
“Kim, we’re going to look at those lacerations on your face and get you patched up, okay? Then I’ll get word on Daniel.”
She nods, and tears spill from her eyes. “I know he shouldn’t have been sitting up front,” she says to me, shaking her head. “It was supposed to be a quick trip to the store, and Danny asked if he could ride in the big boy seat.” She puts her face in her hands, sobbing, and I rest one hand on her back. “I knew better, okay? I knew better and did it anyway.”
“We can’t change the past,” I say, allowing an ER nurse to wheel her into a room for stitches. “We can only face the present and do better for the future.”
* * *
“Hey,Doc, I gotta run. Class starts in thirty minutes.” I swing my head around the corner and give a thumbs up to Doc Shaffer. He spins in his chair to grin at me, holding up his palm for a high five.
“Kill it, girl,” he says, and I slap his hand. Before I turn to leave, I wheel back around, remembering something.
“That accident from this morning … the boy, Daniel. Is he still stable?”
“For now,” Doc says. “He’s lucky he’s not dead, honestly. But there’s a good chance he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Good. I’m glad.” A relief like a thousand pounds seems to ease from my chest as I wave goodbye over my shoulder, strolling out of the ER doors to hop into my car and head towards campus. I’m still dressed in scrubs, but at least these ones aren’t blood-stained like the ones I had on earlier were, and since I don’t have enough time to head home and change, I go straight to campus and park, grabbing my backpack from the back seat as I head towards my first class of the day: the ever dreaded microbiology.
I take a deep breath and walk towards the closed door of the lecture hall, backpack held firmly to my body, hair falling around my face in a shield of sorts. The hallway is brightly lit and bare. Is everyone already in class? I hope that I’m not late on my first day of my senior year of college—my first actual year on campus.
This is a result of the shitstorm I call high school. I’m just glad to finally have the chance to attend Hartwood University in Seattle, after two years of proving myself at the local community college and taking a lot of online classes. At the community college, there weren’t any distractions like I had in high school. No assholes making my life a living hell. And here at Hartwood, I’ll have the same opportunity to excel and obtain my bachelor’s degree in nursing—a lifelong dream of mine.
Scanning the hallway, I see a second-hand couch sitting in the corner, occupied by a blond guy with glasses who is chewing on the end of his pen, nose wrinkled as he focuses on the notebook laid out on his lap in front of him. I pass him, not looking up, but I can feel the guy’s eyes on my ass as I pull the door to the lecture hall open and step in, letting it fall heavily shut behind me.
The lecture hall is large—an auditorium, really. Dimly lit, it’s shaped like an indoor amphitheater. Half of the seats are already filled with students, chatting happily, adjusting their books and bags and laptops, and a few of them glance over at me as I come in. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, eyes searching for an empty seat. The podium down in front is empty, and I glance at my watch. Five minutes till. The professor isn’t here yet. Good—I’m not late.
I avert my eyes from the staring students and walk quietly up the stairs, glancing over occasionally to see if there are any open seats. There are one or two here and there, but many of the students have their bags, books, and laptops sitting in the empty seats next to them. I consider asking them to move their items, but the confidence eludes me.