Who We Aren't (SLOW UPDATE)

Chapter 1

Yes. I'm starting another fan fiction, for those who read my other Ghost Bird FF. No, this story won't be updated as often as the other one. This idea was a thought in my head that wouldn't leave me alone so enjoy and let me know what you think! I'll update when I can but I keep myself busy with my other FF and my originals.

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**| Sang's POV |**

I burst through the door carrying the little girl. Blood drenched my shirt but I didn't care. I just wanted her to be okay. I needed it. She was a reflection of me and it killed me inside to see her like this.

"Help," I yelled out to anyone who would listen. There was no time to bring her to the Academy hospital but I could just set that up later on after she was out of danger.

A nurse and doctor came flying towards me. I passed her to the doctor who, a moment later, put her down in a gurney another nurse was smart enough to bring.

"What happened?" he snapped, his bright green eyes focused on the patient before him.

"Stabbing," I said, not bothering to tell them the full truth—that her mother kicked her out of the car before pulling away but then turned around and attempted to run her over. When that didn't work, the mother decided to get out of the car and tackle her daughter to the ground and finished up by pulling out a knife and stabbing her. I told them none of it. I just needed them to get her into the clear and then I was transferring her to the Academy hospital where they would be able to give her all the help she needed to move forward.

The doctor looked me over, as if sensing there was more, but he knew they had limited time. He ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair before mumbling something to himself and then pushing her through the double doors and towards a surgery room, yelling out medical jargon to the nurses with him as he disappeared.

I found the waiting room and slumped into the seat, angry with myself for being so stupid. How could I not stop the mother in time? How could I have allowed her to put her hands on such an innocent eight-year-old girl?

I fingered a scar on my arm knowing the girl had similar scars on her body. I liked to call them battle scars, proof that I was a survivor. Maybe she would see them as such too. It helped thinking of them like that instead of seeing them as reminders of being a victim.

The adrenaline slowly subsided and I went through a couple of breathing exercises Dr. Roberts taught me to calm myself down. When my heart stopped bruising my chest with its relentless pounding, I leaned my head against the wall and my shoulders slumped.

Long night. Way too long.

I must have dozed off because a hand on my shoulder had me jumping to my feet with frantic eyes as I looked for the danger.

The doctor with green eyes and sandy blond hair stood a couple feet away with his hands up to placate me.

How was he able to sneak up on me like that?

I blinked a few times, looking around, trying to gather myself.

Everything was okay.

I was okay.

I was in the hospital.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"Yes. She lost a lot of blood but we were able to replenish it. She won't be able to move on her own for a few days and will need to be watched for infection and whatnot. She'll have a pretty big scar after the wound heals."

I nodded.

"But she's okay." I smiled and let out a laugh. "She's okay."

The doctor broke out in a flirty smile. "Yes, she's okay."