Redamancy Grey's Anatomy

o. HOSPITALS

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DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?

Do you know what's happened to you?

Do you want to live this way?

The first time Jamie had ever been in a hospital (well, at least a time she could remember), it was after her father had been shot.

She wasn't sure what point she had come to pursue the career as a surgeon; the biggest possibility was when her siblings started to do just that one-by-one. The chase for validation– maybe even some type of acceptance from her so-called family. She knew it came later– much later.

In that moment, as she stood waiting for her mother, tears stained against her cheeks and shirt stained with blood, she hated hospitals. The nurses passed charts and doctors rushed past with an elegance that she would never understand. They all seemed so unbothered while she fought against another sob for her father. As a shaken nine year old, she could only process the metallic tang choking her airways and heavy weight of blood deeply knitted into her clothes dragging her down. It was almost as if it was normal for them. She didn't understand that.

Jamie had stared into the room where the doctors yelled over erratic beeps and nurses glanced at one another. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. They threw down what seemed like towels to the ground, wadded with blood. The room seemed to pause as she watched her father crack his eyes open, wide and his body jolted with fear. (What do we do when we're scared, Jay? He always seemed to whisper that whenever she was hidden under her blankets. We take a deep breath and–)

Jamie flinched back when she heard father, very briefly and very loudly, scream.

She had spent nine years of her life believing that he was completely invincible. He could look at danger head on and survive. The monsters under her bed stood no chance against the tall man with a flashlight and soothing words. It was nine years of her life that she was blissfully unaware of the horrors and monsters that roamed the streets– several weeks before her tenth birthday did she watch her father stand in front of two monsters, arguing over a stupid watch, clutching the ice cream she'd begged for only five minutes prior, then she'd watched the gun jolt. She'd watched the men argue between themselves, asking why the one would ever actually pull the trigger (why is it fucking loaded?!) and then they ran.

She wasn't sure how long she had sat in her father's blood but it was enough to soak into her clothes and her skin, a permanent tattoo of him. He just guided her. Years of listening over dinner tables about how her mom's work, her dad was able to put it into use. Her tiny hands pressed against the wound, his pale face still trying to give her a small smile in exchange of her shaky words. The door had been pushed open by the police, who looked briefly disturbed at the sight of a little girl keeping this all together. The police tugged her away as her father reached out, reassuring her, briefly, that everything would be okay.

Then why did everything seem so wrong?

"James!" Her father rasped from the room, pushing hands away from him as he stared at his trembling daughter. Suddenly, eyes shot to her and some of the staff looked oddly disturbed by her presence. "Please... she's just a little girl..."