•Hoax/ Taylor Swift•

"Saturation dropping. Quickly,'' the anesthesiologist announces. Words are spoken, requesting for instruments, or informing the patient's situation. We are all moving with agility, trying to control the hemorrhaging.

I attempt to aspirate as much of the red fluid as possible to allow visualization of the artery, but I'm not working fast enough. We're all being too slow. The blood keeps gushing, Ella's heart rate slowing.

The time seems to fly, everyone trying to stabilize Ella's rhythm again. We pump her full of drugs, struggle to find the leak, and even order more blood bags. But she just keeps bleeding too fast for the bags to be able to fill her.

''What are you doing? You can't just stop,'' I state, staring with wide eyes at my superior. His hands are no longer trying to control the leaking and his expression doesn't carry determination anymore.

''What else can we do? There has to be something.'' I look around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but they're all frozen.

The tension in the air is now suffocating.

''Do something!'' I basically scream, begging to Mendes.

Without even understanding what I'm doing, I take the cauterizer of his hands and try to fix the bleeding myself. I struggle to see something beyond the metallic liquid, but there is any visualization of Ella's brain. Her gold locks drip dark red.

''Come on. Please... '' I try, my browns furrow and my hands trash through her blood to find the leak.

''You have plans, you have a life, you have that stupid and handsome boy to win over. Don't give up, Ella, please.'' The last words flow out of my mouth again and again.

''Please, Ella, please...'' I beg, whisper-yelling to no one and everyone, but I get only silence back.

No, not silence. There is the incessant beep noise indicating the lack of any heartbeat—an endless straight line.

There is no movement inside her heart. And deep down, I know there's nothing else to do. And it hurts. And I can't breathe. And she doesn't breathe either. She's just gone. Her sister won't learn to put makeup on. Her plans will never be completed.

"Doctor Bernardi, call it," Mendes says with a heavy sigh, taking off his dirty gloves. My hands are still inches away from her skull, and I swear I can feel the warmth fading out of her skin. "Call it!" This time, his voice holds power, not giving me any chance to argue.

For a second, I forget how to speak. I simply stare at my soaked gloves. Before opening my mouth again, I try to prepare myself. The words always make everything too real.

''Time..., time of death 8:42 p.m.'' Every syllable is sharp, like a stab into my chest, announcing my defeat. She deserved better. She deserved a better doctor.

I no longer have any energy inside of me. But I have to keep moving. I need to speak with her parents. I need to fill out the death form.

No matter how much it hurts, it means I still feel. Ella, on the other hand, will never feel anything again. And I wonder if she even had the opportunity to fall in love - damn it, I really hope so.

My gloves, and surgical lab coat end up getting off of my body - I probably took them off myself, but I don't remember my hands performing these actions. My shoes' soles move through the sticky red floor, and the icy tap water causes chills all over my skin.

Her parents' faces will haunt me for many nights. The second we called them to a separate room, they already knew. There is a way of looking, you always think you will be the first person to wear this expression, but it is always the same. Everywhere. With every doctor. The same features translating the same message - we did everything in our power, but unfortunately, your loved one did not survive.

Dead. For good. Emptied of all life. Drained of all blood.

She's incomplete, I think. She's hollow, I want to scream. We left parts of her on the operation room floor. There are parts of her stuck on my soles and other parts between my fingers. I want to go back; I want to gather every drop of her blood and somehow - anyhow - put it back together inside her tiny body.

But I just say the rehearsed phrases while her parents interrupt us in tears. They cry and repeat the word no. They cry and shake their heads, holding each other. They cry and tell us to shut up, they don't want to hear it. They can't hear it. Denial is a blessing. But it, unfortunately, can't last forever.

I guide them to the morgue, and my body just stands still in the corner of the cold room. The suffocated scream that comes out of Ella's mother echoes in my mind. And I want to cry together. But I keep still, with my hands in front of me and my jaw tightly closed. This is their moment.

Time closes in on me. The tunnel becomes even darker. And old pains return. They hug me like good friends. They welcome me on my memories' balcony. They invite me to drink a fucking tea while lining up to torture me.

The rest of the day goes by like I'm underwater. I can't remember anything but a few flashes. Her parents are guided by nurses as I keep moving while my head is at another pace, stuck in another time—my hands sign and complete paperwork without being able to understand a single word. I walk through the hall as if my body is floating, barely feeling the floor under my feet.

I continue robotically through the floors and rooms until a fragrance stops me. It brings me to reality in a heartbeat, causing a breakdown in my system with so many emotions waking up at the same time. I close my eyes and just breathe its scents for a second.

It's like a comfy hug—a hot cup of coffee on a winter's day. But at the same time, it's also the embrace so tight that it keeps me from inhaling air. It's the very icy winter breeze limiting my circulation.

''Elena... '' His husky voice is hesitant, almost in a whisper as he slowly approaches me. Just like a hunter does with his prey to not scare it.

His hand rises to cup my cheek, but it stops in the middle of the air - just like so many words are, simply hanging between our bodies, never spoken.

His eyes carry so many emotions that I don't even know where to start reading them. I'd be able to just stare at his green irises for days. Throw myself into their depths and let their green mossy tones surround me. They have always been my salvation and destruction - teaching me that peace can be found in the same place as chaos.

''No,'' I try to say, but it comes out weakly, without any strength. I want to be soothed. I want his fragrance dominating every inch of me, blinding my pain. But I've been through this before; his sweet aroma fades, leaving only bitterness behind.

''No. No!'' I repeat, with a little more confidence this time, taking a step back. I have to look away from his eyes, knowing that my own orbits contain a silent plea in them.

A commotion of nurses and equipment passes by us, probably rushing to get to a patient. And this distraction is all I need to gather the rest of my strength and guide me away from the intoxicating fragrance; not daring to take one last look towards his direction.

Somehow, I get to the change room. I take uneasy steps until I get to the bathroom. Once the door is locked behind me, I run to the sink and turn on the faucet. I rub my hands anxiously until they start burning, my fingers becoming raw. The metallic scent. The stick sensation. They're all still here. And I try to rinse them off. But I simply can't seem to get rid of them.

I can't get rid of it. Her blood. Their blood. And I cry. And it hurts. Staring at me in the mirror and not seeing the shine in my eyes or my warm smile tears me apart.

The anxiety scratches and rips my insides, making its way to the surface, taking over every inch of me. And I kick the hard floor. And I punch with clenched fists the sink. The energy that builds up inside me is too much, and I walk from one side to the other in this tiny bathroom.

My tears run down freely on my cheeks, and my throat is so tightly closed that no sound comes out. I jerk my body forward, gasping for air.

Finally, my throat opens just enough for my screams to get out. They reverberate through my body. There's no more energy to hit or kick anything. There's only pain, so I cry. I fall to the floor with a thud, letting my own arms surround my waist. It's the only comfort I can find right now.

🩺🩺🩺

I don't know how long I was locked in the bathroom, but I know my shift was over before I even got inside the change room.

I was supposed to be at home, having dinner in my stupid kitchen by myself. Chloe is on call tonight, and I have an airline to discuss with. But, instead of eating in my apartment, or calling the agency, begging for my refund, I'm knocking on the Neurosurgery Chief's office door.

When I go in, and he sees me, his eyes automatically soften. How I hate that look, filled with pity. What I wouldn't do to not have to see this expression directed at me for just a month, and that's exactly what I'm going after.

It doesn't take me long to inform him of my decision to keep my vacation starting next week. I have the next few days to finish paperwork and organize the calendar with my supervisors. But after that, I'll have four weeks for myself, away from here.

I don't know how confident I am of my decision; it was made in a moment of despair, whether I like it or not.

But, in four days, I'll be on a plane to God knows where. And that's what I intend to decide as I sit on my bedroom floor, with my computer open in front of me, and a glass of red wine in my hand.

I observe my surroundings, admiring the shadows caused by the moonlight that comes through the window. I hesitantly inhale the memories that inhabit these four walls. There's a lot of baggage here. Many pains that still resurface.

Going totally against my stubborn personality, I can't help but wonder that my friends might be right. Maybe I really need a change for a few weeks. An easier place to breathe. A place where no one knows me.

I sigh. It's four in the morning, I'm awake, but I'm not on the windowsill.

Maybe this is the slow start towards new habits.

——•:•——
HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHAPTER. DON'T FORGET TO VOTE. THANKS FOR READING

-I'm sorry for this heavier ch. I hope I managed to convey her emotions (and just so you all know: her issue with blood will be explained later.)

-we'll have 3 more chs with interaction in the hospital and between her friends before she actually travels. The next ones will be a little more light and even fun at some times.

-I know we have a lot of questions hanging in the air, but everything will fit in its place in the right time.

- any mistakes, questions or suggestions please let me know.
Hope you are enjoying this far.