𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

⁰¹⁹ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

In the hygienic environment of the exam room at Seattle Grace Hospital, surrounded by medical instruments and diagrams of human anatomy, I felt like an animal being studied.

The hands of my father, Derek, so skilled in surgery, ran gently along my spine, as if searching for a flaw to repair.

But my thoughts were far away. They were with the countless unanswered phone calls, with the nights I had waited for him to come home.

"How's school going, Missy?" he tried to ask casually, obviously trying to bridge the gap.

"Let's just say my attendance rate is higher than yours," I replied tersely, spitting out the words almost mechanically.

He ignored my cynicism.

"And figure skating practice? The season's about to start again."

"I quit."

Dad paused, his hands hesitating for a moment.
" Why's that? You used to love it."

"Not anymore."

It was more than an answer; it was an accusation, a silent rebuke to him and to the world that had moved on without my consent.

He sighed softly, a sound of resignation and regret. "Missy, I... I'm sorry for the way things ended up."

"Yeah, me too."

The icy silence that fell between us was broken by a sudden knock at the door. Alex entered holding an envelope.

"Dr. Shepherd? I have the x-rays of Missy's spine. The changes are minimal from the last scan three months ago."

"Thank you, Karev," Dad replied curtly.

Alex gave me a quick look before leaving the room. For a moment, I wondered if he had noticed the tension between my father and me.

The door closed with a soft click and we were alone again.

Dad opened the envelope and pulled out the X-rays, holding each one up to the light and studying it carefully. I could see the flicker of shadows on his face, his gaze focused.

"Alex is right, your scoliosis appears to be stable," he began, trying to sound professional.

I pressed my lips together, a bitter smile playing around my mouth as I replied.

"Great. Stability is sooo important."

My father winced, as if my words had attacked him personally. Well, in a way, they had.

But he said nothing, instead reaching for a light blue folder that looked alarmingly familiar to me.

"What's that?" I asked as I watched him flip through page after page, his brow furrowed.

"Your mother gave me your file so I could get up to speed," he muttered, not taking his eyes off the lines. The fact that he had my file made me pause for a moment.

"And why exactly did Mom gave you my file?"

"Because I'm your father, and I'm a surgeon, I want to make sure you get the best treatment possible."

Dad seemed genuinely concerned about my health, but also determined to take control of my medical care. "And I don't see anything here about fentanyl. That surprised me. Dr. Jeffrey prescribed that?"

Panic welled up inside me. The lie had felt real the moment I told it, but now, with the chart in front of me, I felt trapped.

"Maybe he forgot to write it down? Doctors are only human," I replied, trying to sound casual, but my voice trembled slightly.

"Missy, I know Dr. Jeffrey well enough to know that, for all his faults, he wouldn't cover up prescriptions. He's too sure of himself to risk something like that."

The walls seemed to be closing in on me, my breathing space narrowing.

"Maybe you should call him and find out. I'm just the patient, you know?" I snapped back.

"I'm worried about you. You can't just mess around with those drugs. They're very dangerous," he said, his voice getting firmer as he closed the file.

"Missy, it's important that we're honest with each other here. If you're in pain, we need to deal with it properly, not with lies, and certainly not with fentanyl."

"Seriously? How honest were you when you and Mom decided to look for a house out here without telling me?"

My father was silent for a moment, surprised by my sudden outburst.

"Missy, that... that's something we need to talk about. Your mother and I thought it would be better if-"

"Better for who?" I interrupted sharply.

"For you? For Mom? It's always what's best for you. And for me? I just have to fit in, right?"

The conversation had taken a turn that Dad obviously hadn't expected. He rubbed his face and looked tired.

"Missy, I understand that you're upset. But this fentanyl thing is serious. We need to talk about it."

"What is there to talk about?" I hissed before getting up from the exam table and putting my shirt back on. "You've already made up your mind. Just like you always do."

I spat out the words as if they were poison. Derek's expression hardened, the lines on his forehead and around his eyes deepened.

"Missy, you-"

"We're done here," I interrupted him again, grabbing my jacket and leaving the room.

"I want to go home."