Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

Thud. Thud. Thud.
Everything sounded muffled except for the echo of my footsteps against
the linoleum floors. 
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I’d lost someone in the ER before. During my first year of residency, I
treated a patient who’d been shot in the chest during a random drive-by. He’d
succumbed to his injuries within minutes of arriving at the hospital. 
There was nothing I could’ve done; he’d been too far gone. But that
didn’t stop me from walking out of the trauma bay, into a bathroom, and
throwing up. 
Every doctor lost a patient eventually, and every death hit hard, but
Tanya’s socked me right in the gut. 
Maybe it was because I’d been so confident she would pull through. Or
maybe it was because she barely had the chance to live life before death
snatched it so cruelly from her. 
Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop a destructive swarm of what ifs from
crowding my brain. 

---

What if I’d made a different call during the treatment process? What if I’d
reached her earlier? What if I were a better doctor?
What if, what if, what if.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My steps faltered for a second outside the relatives’ room before my hand
closed around the doorknob and twisted. It was like I was watching a movie
of myself—I was here, but not really.
Tanya’s parents jumped up when they saw me, their faces drawn tight
with worry. A minute later, the worry exploded into horror.
“I’m sorry…did everything we could…” 
I kept talking, trying to sound sympathetic and professional, to sound
anything but numb, but I barely heard my own words. I only heard the
mother’s keening wail and the father’s angry shouts of denial, which
collapsed into shuddering cries of grief as he gathered his wife into his arms. 
Each sound drove a phantom spike through my chest until I was so
littered with them I couldn’t breathe.
“My baby. Not my baby,” Tanya’s mom sobbed. “She’s here. She’s still
here. I know she is.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. 
Thud. Thud. Thud. 
Not my footsteps, but the thundering of a broken heart. 
I maintained my stoic mask until I ran out of useless words and left the
family to their grief. I had a dozen other patients to treat, but I needed a
minute, just one minute, to myself.
I quickened my steps until I reached the nearest bathroom. The numbness
spread from my chest to my limbs, but when I closed the door behind me, the
soft click of the lock sliding into place unleashed a sharp sob that ripped
through the air.
It took me several seconds to realize it came from me.
The pressure building behind my ribcage finally exploded, and I doubled
over the sink, dry heaving until my ears rang and my throat was raw.
Tanya’s lifeless body on the stretcher. Ava in the emergency room after
she almost drowned. My mom’s open, empty eyes after she overdosed on
pills. 
The memories ran together in a macabre stream. 
I gagged again, but I hadn’t eaten since I started my shift eight hours ago
and nothing came out.

---

By the time my dry heaves faded, sweat clung to my skin and my head
pounded with tension. 
I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with cold water before paper
toweling off the moisture. The rough brown material scratched against my
skin, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I saw a faint reddish
mark from where I’d rubbed it against my cheek. 
Faint purple smudges beneath my eyes, sallow complexion, white lines of
tension bracketing my mouth. I looked like hell.
God, I needed a strong drink. Or, better yet, a vacation with several strong
drinks. 
I set my jaw and tossed the crumpled paper towel into the trash. By the
time I returned to the main floor, I’d fixed my professional mask back in
place. 
I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in grief or self-pity. I had a job to
do. 
“Hi there.” I smiled at my next patient and held out my hand. “I’m Dr.
Chen…” 
The rest of my shift passed without any major incidents, but I couldn’t
shake my clammy skin or erratic heartbeat. 
“Are you okay?” Clara asked when I clocked out. 
“Yep.” I avoided her sympathetic gaze. “See you tomorrow.”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond before I headed to the locker room. I
usually showered at home, but I was desperate to wash the blood off. It stuck
to my skin, thick and cloying, invisible to everyone except me. 
I squeezed my eyes shut and stayed beneath the water until it ran cold and
a deep chill settled into my bones. Normally, I couldn’t wait to leave the
building after a shift, but right now, nothing sounded worse than being alone. 
My friends were all working, and it was too early to go to a bar, which
left me with one remaining option.
I toweled off, got dressed, and fished my phone out of my jeans pocket to
text Jules only to find a message already waiting from her, sent twenty
minutes ago.