𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍 (18+)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍 - 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃

Cleo.
10 Years Ago.

My fingers continued to slide the needle in and out to intertwine the loose fabric together. Sewing was tedious yet a receptive gift I seem to have. Traditionally, mothers would teach daughters how to sew as their proper duties, but me?

I learned from watching a neighbor who was a grandmother sewing outside on the front porch.

Maybe, because it was more like my life. It was woven in its disasters and only the gifted could make it out.

I exhale slowly before setting the ripped sweater onto my lap before resting my back against the hospital bed. My head was spinning, my body aches, and it seems like my nurse was never going to feed me.

Breathe in... breath out. Where's my father?

My thoughts were interrupted as the hospital door flung open, showcasing two men walking over to my bed. One of them was older, grey hairs seem to infiltrate the jet-black strands alongside his milky white skin. He seemed foreign, different in a sense, while the other man, holding a clipboard, had the smoothest lick of milk chocolate skin. His curls seemed to coil perfectly while his defiantly crafted face.

I've never seen two men so attractive in my life. Were doctors always so charming?

"Present the case, Dr. Jackson"

The ones with the ebony curls began to speak, "Cleo Roberts. 16 years old, suffered from GS in the abdomen and shoulder, minor laceration to the head. Held temp hypertension from induced trauma. Performed Laparoscopically to remove GS 1. Ran into complications, 5 mg of Heparin, had to perform an emergency appendectomy. Right now, she's running 5 mg of Morphine and Depeco."

The older man gazed at me for a while before turning to his colleague and answering harshly, "She seems fatigued. Why isn't THAT in your notes? You can't be a good surgeon if you can't SEE. Some things just require your own eyes without a needle and a machine, Dr. Jackson."

I mumble innocently, interrupting his further scolding towards his colleague, "Can I have some water please?"

The two men face me as the older one nods, "Of course, dear. I'm sure Dr. Jackson can give you just that. Now, Dr. Jackson, you are running recovery and pre-op. Get ready for a long night on call and don't forget you are presenting the Lawrence case at 13:00 to the attendings." He muttered a couple of other things but it was too complicated and too "mediated" for me to understand.

Momentarily, a cup was being offered to me by the younger doctor as I grab it from him. I slowly took a sip as he was consistently giving me a quick glare before marking something more.

"He didn't need to be so hard on you."

My words caused the doctor to stop writing before his eyes gazed up at me. "Oh, eh, it's fine. I've been kind of a screw-up since I've become a resident. If anything, I'm sorry for my lack of attention to my patient," he admits. I take another sip of the cold water before answering, "Does he always treat you like that?"

"He's just tough...don't be alarmed. I've learned a lot from him. If you think he's tough, you should hear my father."

"Your father is a surgeon?"

"Cardiologist. Sharp as a whip. Unfortunately, I didn't want to live up to that legacy, so General Surgery is where I am at."