𝐾 𝐴 𝐼

Chapter |2| Filthy Patient

E M E R Y ' S P. O. V

When I completed my four years of medical school and three years of residency, I thought my life would be filled with the unexpected.

That every day would be a different case, different people. The fast pace of the my career would drive me and every day would feel fudilled in saving lives.

Instead, I'm bored.

Most days, I spend documenting cases, answering the phone because Thorpe clinic is currently understaffed so the medical license that took long sleepless night of studying and so many tears to achieve is being used to answer phones and talk to patients who suspect they're dying after a persistent cough when it's simply flu season.

I couldn't complete all of my residency. Not after my semi breakdown that caused my parents to beg me to leave and settle down as a consultant at their local clinic. I'm glad the learning has stopped, I don't think I could have physically taken anymore information in but it's not the life I dreamed.

I treat more cuts than anything else. Don't get me wrong, I love helping people but I crave the adrenaline I hear my old friends rave about on the phone. How a multi car pile up brought in two people impaled on the same fucking pole or that they've just discovered a new disease or a life saving treatment.

"Emery! Emery! Are you even listening?" A hand slams on the desk, bringing me back to the present.

Joshua is still holding a box of half used disposable gloves. "I said don't use more than one set a day."

I tidily move my thick brazen red hair to the side so I can see him better. "I need to when examining different patients. It's protocol."

"We can't afford it, not since the recent budget cuts and..."

"I'm not doing it. Our patients come to us with trust that we are able to look after them and giving one of them a potentially dangerous infection because I didn't change my gloves will destroy any credible reputation this clinic has. The community love us, we can't let them down by screwing them like this."

"Fine. Then I'll just reduce your pay." My boss says practically throws the keys in my face, the sharp edge nicking my lip.

He's an asshole. Hell, all of corporate America is but at least I know he's harmless.

Jason Stills however, a colleague with a fraction of a pay rise that makes him believe he's my superior, has adopted the strange need to walk me to my car every night. He waits until I've finished which can often range from nine to twelve in the evening, and waits for me to lock up.

Most mornings I find him loitering in the car park until I arrive, and he hits on me in the weirdest, most uncomfortable ways. Once he tapped my ass with a plant. I was so stunned I didn't respond and he walked away smirking.

Thankfully tonight he has a dentist appointment or something. He even apologised for missing our late night talks, as he puts it, as though I actually enjoy him following me to my car.

I finish up my work, and quickly run over my appointments for tomorrow. A broken toe, a pesky cough and a cold that hasn't gone away yet. Then my hours are filled with endless documenting and answering phone calls.