22:49.

22:49 was the time of death called for the patient who was rushed into the ER less than an hour ago. He was just seven years old.

I was standing holding the clipboard for the little boy's information, prior to jotting down the hour he took his last breath. This is how I start a new week. Another day at the hospital, still not recovered from the past week I've had.

Joseph's pained expression, his regretful eyes...

Chris' bleeding body and excreting so much red liquid on my kitchen table...

Five... and his lingering eyes that longed for an answer... and I said yes...

"Ms. Y/L/N! Get back to work," I avert my gaze and full attention onto my boss who stands in his familiar white doctor's coat. His eyes watching me carefully as if I wouldn't be up to no good. I hold back my irritated breath, and turn to roll my eyes, exiting the OR with the clipboard still grasped in my hands

The only reason I work here is to save as many lives as possible, or provide any sort of help to anyone - not suck up to my boss about him being such an arrogant-

"Ms. Y/L/N, huh?" A familiar, husky voice sounds behind me. I spin on my heels and turn, encountering the seemingly enlightened Five. I suck in a breath, his brows raised giving me a once over and examining my body in scrubs. My heart begins to hammer, as usual when I see him.

"Five..."

His expression gains seriousness, his jaw hardening as if it's poison for him to fail at suppressing any angle of a wide smile. He licks his lips, his gaze on my own deliberate eyes. "The one and only." I watch him glance around, his hands folded. "So this is where you work?" He asks with curiosity.

Suddenly I hush him, quietly taking his arm and pulling him off to the side, boldly. My eyes glare at his. "What are you doing, Five?" I watch him, his green eyes flickering down to meet mine, he searches them.

"Is there a problem?" He questions. My lips part. Is there?... of course, there is. I look down at his arm - the tattoo showcased and out in the open.

"Your tattoo." I say, barely audible. His brows furrow, and I then realize the closed space between us. I step back.

"What about my tattoo?" He blurts, I tense from his confused, loud question. I look around, luckily no one must've overheard him, I figure, from their attention steadied on patients - which I should be assisting right now...

"Everyone knows what the tattoo is a symbol of." My eyes concentrate on either of his. Then his green eyes glint mischievously.

"Maybe you'll have the same tattoo too, someday." He says lowly, huskily. I stare at him a moment, longer than I should, before rolling my eyes and clearing my throat

"You're a gang leader, Five." I say softly. "You can't be here."

Something flickers across his face, but before I can latch on to it. "You think I'm afraid of cops? Getting locked up nonetheless?" He shakes his head. "You don't worry about that."

I furrow my brows, the space between us wide enough for me to contain my breath, and to steady my heart rate. "Worry? I'm not worried about you getting locked-"

"Stop." He interjects, his jaw clenching. "I don't get caught. You don't think the police have been haunting me and my family down for a while now? This," He gestures between the two of us, our bodies standing firm and four feet apart apart. "Isn't anything compared to the things I've done. That's what you don't have to worry about." He states firmly, then I watch him glance around the busy hall.

"Let them see me, darlin." His greenish irises latch onto my own, his domineering voice laced with confidence, certainly -his thin lips twitching. He shrugs slightly, before turning to walk off. But he throws a grin over his shoulder and meets my gaze again.

"I'm stopping by later, just to give you a heads up." He says.

"I'll be off later..." I say with confused brows.

"I know." Are his final words before around completely and pushing the glass double doors open, exiting my job and leaving me standing with the clipboard still gripping in my hands... speechless.

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The glass doors close when Five disappeared behind them. I stand in my wine colored scrubs, in silence. Nurses and doctors pass me casually as I breathe out a low breath against the wall of the busy hall. I now acknowledge that I'll see Five when I get off, and that's my chance to speak to him about all of this. I need too.

I stand straight when I spot my boss waking in my direction, his dark eyes flash with a knowing suspicion. "Dr. Smith," I greet, hopefully casual. I just finished speaking with a gang member, who's tattoo was on his hand for anyone to see - and my boss is walking toward me with a knowing expression?! Just breath, Y/n.

I watch his thick brows raise. "Enough, Ms. Y/L/N. I saw you..." he stops firmly feet way from me.

"Excuse me?" I ask innocently.

His dark-brown eyes narrow, "You were talking with a patient when you're suppose to be helping in the OR. And that information you're holding should already be inserted in the system." I follow his gaze down to the clipboard in my hands. I quietly exhale a relieved breath. "Oh... I know, I was on my way, actually."

"Well, hurry. We don't have all day, Ms. Y/L/N." He dismisses himself, returning to the OR he came from. I swallow, before pepping my step and reporting to the lab to get this information turned in.

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I press the button on my car keys, my car beeps while unlocking the doors. I get in and buckle up before starting the ignition and leaving the Hospital parking lot. I look at the stereo digital clock to see it's 6:30 p.m. I was suppose to finish my shift over two hours ago - but due to my boss needing me to handle the last patient that came in was I was on my way out...

Actually, I'm not complaining. I couldn't be more happier with my job. Sure, I deal with an obnoxious and strict boss but I help people. And I'm glad I have the opportunity to everyday.

Minutes later, I arrive home and pull into my driveway. I get out the car and make my way up the porch, unlocking my front door and pushing it open. I first see the living room -no one present. I guess a piece of me expected a gang member. I walk in and close the door behind me, sliding my purse off my shoulder and sitting it on the kitchen island when I enter for a water bottle. Moments after chugging down the hydration, i plop onto the couch in my living room.

When time reaches seven o'clock, still on the black couch, drowsiness settles in me, my eyes becoming heavy. Just when I'm about to enter in a dark abyss, the doorbell rings.

It almost takes the last ounce of energy from my body to stand and go answer the door, but I wipe my eyes, hard, and get up to do it anyway. Opening the tall wooden door to see Five, standing there with the his hands folded, his brown, his green eyes glint with something unreadable. I bite my lip and a breathe escape my nostrils - after my heart begins to race. Now and today is the time I tell him - I simply can't work for him. I can't be involved with his people and people that' are capable of committing crime... which they probably already committed. But I look up to his irises again. How can I tell him that? I know in this very moment he carries that golden gun in his waist below his back.

I gesture for him to come in. I follow behind him after shutting the front door, as the two of us entered the living room. I watch him carefully, when he claims a seat on the sofa. I stand with my arms folded across my chest, firmly. "So,"

" I love this couch," he begins before I can even finish, leaning back comfortably. His long legs are spread apart and he throws his head back into the sofa. I force my gaze up to his gaze. I raise my brows.

"Okay.. that's great. Now I wanted to speak to you about something..."

Suddenly and in a swift movement, he comes to a stand before me, now hovering my mere shorter frame. I look up at him, his eyes lingering in my gaze, then trail down.. lower... and lower - until he watches me eyes. I stand still close to him, my shoulders tensing. "I'm listening." His lips part slowly.

My lips part before I avert my gaze onto his own. "I..." I clear my throat, gaining focus. "I can't work for you. Not anymore." I finish softly.

Five's gaze flutters up to my own, his brows furrow down at me. "And why do you say that?"

I can practically feel him already radiating the anger. "Well... you're..."

"I'm what...?" He arched a brow and turns his head for me to face his ear, gesturing for the rest to hear.

I open my mouth to talk, but the rest slips from my mind. He is...

"Someone who held their gun up at me to save his friend... someone who pressed the same gun up to my stomach when I first saw him!" I rush. "You..." I decided to enclose the small space between us, my eyes searching both of his before continuing. "You showed me the first day I saw you that you were capable of killing me." I merely whisper.

I know he hears me, because not only does his expression say so, but his face doesn't soften - not how part of me believed it would - and instead his jaw visibly clenches.

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