RAYNE
I sat on the edge of my bed, the sun streaming in through the cracked blinds, illuminating the clutter that surrounded me. My fingers danced over the yellowed pages of the newspaper, flipping through birth announcements like a kid going through a candy store. Each name brought a flicker of longing, a whisper of connection that echoed in the corners of my mind.
And then I saw it—the Taylor twins. My heart raced, the name sending a thrill through me. "They're still there," I thought, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last visited the hospital. This wasn't my first rodeo; I knew the game well. I could slip in unnoticed, blend into the sterile walls of the NICU, and no one would be the wiser.
I closed the newspaper and tossed it aside, my mind racing with possibilities. I made my way to the closet, pulling open the door to reveal a collection of scrubs hanging neatly, each with a different hospital's name embroidered on the pocket. A twisted little trophy collection of my past escapades.
As I sorted through the fabrics, I felt the soft, familiar textures beneath my fingers. I paused at a vibrant shade of teal that shimmered slightly in the light, the name "LAC+USC Medical Center" catching my eye. But the deep blue set with "Cedars-Sinai Medical Center" stitched in white called to me more strongly. It felt authoritative yet approachable, like a uniform I could hide behind.
I pulled the scrubs from the hanger, inhaling their fresh, clinical scent. I slipped off my old clothes, letting them drop to the floor, and dressed quickly, the fabric sliding over my skin like a second layer. The scrubs hugged my frame comfortably, but I made sure they weren't too loose; I needed to look professional.
Next, I rummaged through my drawer, searching for the perfect accessories. I found an old pair of plain white sneakers—scuffed but serviceable. They would help me blend in with the other staff. After pulling them on, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the reflection of a nurse ready for duty staring back at me. I wasn't just anyone; I was Nurse Rayne Johnson today, and I had a job to do.
I rummaged through my drawer beneath the bed, finally finding the badge my friend Shae had copied for me. It gleamed under the light as I pinned it to my scrub top, the name "Nurse Rayne Johnson" staring back at me like an invitation. A smirk crept across my face; it felt like wearing a ticket to a show I'd been waiting for.
With a final glance around the room, I grabbed my bag, stuffing in a small bottle of hand sanitizer and a couple of hair ties. As I stepped out of my apartment, the door creaking shut behind me, I felt a sense of excitement bubbling in my chest. Today, I would walk into the hospital as one of them, and no one would see me for who I truly was.
The drive to Cedars-Sinai was calm, almost too calm, the kind of quiet that made me hyper-aware of the task ahead. As I pulled into the parking lot, my heart pounded a steady rhythm, but my hands were steady as ever. I parked near the rear entrance, the one with less foot traffic, and stepped out of the car. The hospital loomed large in front of me, but it wasn't intimidating. This was just another day, another step in my plan.
The badge hung heavy against my chest, but its weight was comforting. I slipped my hand inside my scrub pocket and grasped it, feeling the edges of the smooth plastic between my fingers. Nurse Rayne Johnson, it read. Nurse. I liked the sound of that.
I walked up to the side entrance and paused at the card reader. With a quick swipe, the familiar beep welcomed me in. A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I pulled the door open and entered the hallway. The clinical scent hit me immediately, antiseptic and sterile, a scent I had come to know well. I nodded to a passing nurse, barely making eye contact, and she nodded back without hesitation. Good. I was just another face, just another set of scrubs moving through the motions of the day.
