Harry Styles is the best underground boxer at Birmingham's yet still struggling to make a living.
Emilia Park is a nurse with her life in perfect order, shaped in every aspect to her personal appeal.
Each carry the wounds and trauma of their parent...
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"Grabbed you a coffee, how's Mrs. Edison?" I heard Josephine say, my eyes landing on the large white cup she was handing me. After two code blues and multiple upset patients, I needed it today. I grabbed it, taking a quick sip, licking my lips as I went over Mrs. Edison's chart.
"It's tough, doctor upped the dosage on everything, the family isn't processing that she isn't going to get better," I sighed, finishing up my notes so I could submit everything to the doctor.
Josephine sat down next to me, grabbing her own charts and getting to work, "I lost Mr. Frankfurt this morning. Daughter yelled at me until she cried. You would think I was the doctor."
That was the thing about the ICU, most times we dealt with the patients directly more than the doctors did. We built the relationships, we created the small bits of banter with them to keep them entertained.
"It's just one of those days, can't seem to catch a break I swear," I smiled, rolling my shoulders back, stretching out my neck. Just five more hours and I was off for the next three days. It wasn't even the time to relax that excited me, it was wondering if I would bump into Harry again. If he would come over to have me check his wound.
I had theories on what happened, especially with living next to him and who by the yells, I assumed was his dad. It often sounded violent, yet every time I reported it like it was my job to do, all that came from it was a drunken man, just yelling at his son. To me that didn't feel like justification enough for the police to walk away, but they did, every time.
I didn't want to assume his dad hit him, but if he didn't, then I could only assume someone did. I could only assume someone, somewhere was hurting him. I took another sip of my coffee, pondering on his eyes; the everclear shade of green that seemed perfectly crafted for the softness of his smile. They way he nervously twisted and tugged at his hair. All of it had taken over my mind and it was getting me through this day.
"Did I tell you I finally met my neighbor last night?" I said to Josephine, neither one of us looked up from our notes.
"The guy you think is hitting his kid?"
"No, the kid. Definitely not a kid. Definitely a man. Definitely a beautiful grown man," I chuckled as Josephine joined me and laughed.
"So how did that happen?"
"He was catching the elevator as I was getting in, he held it open for me. His face was wrecked, a split eyebrow. He said he fell at work, stuff fell on him or something like that," I said, closing my chart and grabbing another.
"Right, don't they all. Makes me upset if someone is hurting him," Josephine said, switching charts as well.
"Yeah, but, he came over and I cleaned him up, used a couple butterflies on h—..."
"...—you what? E! He could have been dangerous? What if he was doing the hurting?" She scolded me in a low whisper yell, my eyes rolling.
"Jo, if I thought he was dangerous I wouldn't have done that. I swear, he was so nervous, tugging at his hair. I even...I left some mac and cheese at his door afterward," I said quickly looking away.
