chapter 25- exhausted

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Aila

The pang of relief flooded through me immediately. My arms felt like absolute jelly. As I rested my head back and absorbed the moments of peace, realization began to sink in.

I was resting my body on Grey's. More like my grumpy boss who is the absolute last person I want to piss off right now.

Great job Aila.

As soon as it hit me, I sat up immediately. Two large arms were still encircled around my own, making them look comically small.

"Stay still" he grumbled behind me.

By now it had been almost a few hours since they had began to work on this poor man. It had been a fat minute since I'd moved from this spot, yet alone eat a meal.

The tiredness and hunger were consuming me slowly.

I watched unhelpfully as Ronan and a few other nurses and doctors continued to do their best to stabilize them. All this chaos, yet all I heard was ringing. Silence.

Lightheadedness.

"Alright, let's move him." are the only words that brought me out of my trance.

Ronan came around and gently guided my hands out of the guy's abdomen. As I went to take a step back, I began to stumble.

I could feel my body screaming for help, but my mind to tired respond.

Before it even registered, I felt a set of hands grasp my waist and lean me onto a hard, muscly body.

The abrupt scent of Ceaderwood hit my nostrils immediately, telling me my grumpy boss was keeping me upright at the moment.

The two arms hoisted me into the air, which resulted in my head resting on his chest. I wanted to argue that I was okay.

But I wasn't.

"Shit is she okay?" I heard Ronan rush out before I felt a set of hands on my forehead.

I felt weak. Exhaustion was an understatement.

"It's probably exhaustion. $10 She probably didn't eat today anyway." I heard him grumble.

"Im fine guys, it's ok." I told them softly. Even hearing my voice didn't make me seem convinced, let alone them.

I heard a scoff come from his chest.

"It's been almost 6 hours." Ronan continued as I felt his hands on my clammy wrist. "She's weak and pale. You know what to do." He motioned as he brushed a piece of hair away from my face.

It's times like these I wish I'd met Ronan earlier because he always gives off fatherly vibes. In a warm and kind way. Something I never got to experience much.

"Feel better, Aila." He said with a warm smile before he rushed out.

I was too tired to respond.

Before I knew it I drifted away as my boss walked down the hall with me.

...
Grey

Bothered.

It stumbled me how I lived a straightforward life. Regulatory. Systemic. Everything occurring as it should.

And now I'm sitting in my office watching my newest nurse get fluids.

It's really bread and butter. Dehydration? Fluids. Gunshot wound? Remove and repair. Pleural effusion? Chest tube and Lasik.

Bread and butter.

So tell me why every single fiber in my body became agitated when she passed out in my arms. Tell me how. I've dealt with the most horrific trauma cases, yet I'm hyper focused on the numbers on her monitors in front of me right now.

Are we in a hospital with access to beds? Yes. Did I bring her to my office, also yes. Did I drag a monitor and reconnect it so that I can read her vitals? Yes.

Was I completely extra for all of this?

Yes.

I wanted to be able to continue doing my reports, while making sure my nurse didn't die on the first day.

It unsettled me. This girl made everything I ever knew to be flipped upside down.

Not because I care of course.

But because Ronan would skin me alive. Not to mention Charlotte would have a say as well.

So as predicted the princess gets the best treatment possible.

I rolled my eyes. I was irritated.

The consistent beep of her monitor let me know she was breathing. But made every single neuron in my head want to explode.

I couldn't focus on anything.

With a heavy sigh, I got up and walked over to her. She still looked very pale. Not to mention the banana bag emptied quickly.

She was very dehydrated.

One thing did catch my eye though.

Her sugar was still low.

When I brought her here, I connected a CGM (continuous glucose monitor) just incase.

Just covering all my bases.

However her number was still very low. Something alarming for someone who just absorbed a shit ton of nutrients and vitamins.

I double checked to make sure it was connected properly.

With furrowed brows, I was stumped.

Why wasn't her sugar going up? If anything her number was in the high range of hypoglycemia.

Great.

With a sigh I grabbed a glucagon from the medicine cart and came back to my office. I grabbed an alcohol wipe and gently lifted up her shirt.

As I did, my stomach began to turn.

Angry purple bruises covered her stomach.

Old and new ones, in different stages of healing were plastered all across.

I felt sick.

Who the fuck did this?

A/N hii! :) hope you're well!

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⏰ Last updated: Jul 24, 2024 ⏰

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