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word count: 4068
Blood on Avery's hands was something she was used to.
She was used to plunging her hands into a person's body, whether to idle their internal bleeding, or to help fuse the flesh of an open wound back together. She'd sliced into more bodies than she cared to count - and had grown numb to the sight of men riddled in bullet wounds.
But she had not grown accustomed to these things outside of the walls of a hospital. At least, not right away.
In the hospital, her hands were protected by the nitrile material of surgical gloves. Her skin was shielded by the blue scrubs and her long brown hair was always pulled tightly and methodically out of her face. In a hospital, she was given the tools to succeed - forceps, scalpels, tanks of oxygen, a sterile environment, the unending knowledge of her peers.
Now, she'd be lucky to have a clean roll of gauze and steady hands.
So at the first site of a wound outside of the emergency room, Avery wasn't sure how she'd react. She was standing outside of an idling car with accidental companions - two men, two women, and two children, with hundreds of cars clogged up in front of them. There had been a panic to leave Atlanta's city depths, as everyone had the same idea to pile up on the interstate. The occasional angry honk of a car horn would pull Avery out of her tumbling thoughts. She had yet to come down from what she had seen in the city.
"Please, somebody help!" A shaky voice raised over the humming of cars. Avery turned to see a man and a trembling woman by his side, who clutched onto her own hand tightly as if she were about to lose it. The man's eyes quickly locked onto Avery and the blue scrubs she adorned. "You-! Can you help us?"
Avery was pleased with herself when the unwavering focus she felt in the emergency room came over her. Gingerly holding the woman's hand, she turned it over, unbothered at the sight of a red gash in her open palm. She observed the way the blood bubbled from within, and as gently as she could, started to press the skin together. A fresh drop of red dribbled down the woman's palm. But it could be closed. No stitches.
"It's not so bad," Avery offered a calm smile, hoping to transfer her ease to the shaking woman. "You should be OK without stitches. Do you have anything to bind this up in the meantime?"
She shook her head, eyes wet. "No,"
"Here," One of her companions, who had introduced herself earlier as Lori, handed her a tank top from the trunk of her car. "Can you use this?"
Avery's mouth twitched at her kindness. Though less than ideal, she responded, "Yes, thank you."
Avery ripped the clothing into strips before tying it around the woman's cut. She instructed them to keep it clean and keep pressure on it. If it continued to bleed, they would need to go to the hospital, but Avery stopped herself before she could get to that. It wasn't an option. The man and woman thanked her with bleary eyes and hobbled back to their vehicle, their spirits microscopically lifted. Avery exhaled, the medical focus slowly leaving her body. She blinked at her reality.
