Scorched

Chapter 1

I finish speed walking through the maze of a hospital and reach the correct desk, only panting slightly.

"Dr. Knight?" The sour looking middle aged woman behind the desk asks grouchily.

"Yes," I spit through my teeth. This morning I've already been through my alarm not going off, my dog throwing up all over the couch and my laundry going missing from the laundry mat. I swear if she lectures me about being late to my first day of work...

"Dr. Stanley has been waiting for you," she informs me as if this was elementary school and she's about to send me to the principal's office.

All I can do is stare back and try to suppress my scrunched lips and puckered brow.

Eventually she gives a disgruntled sigh, "he should be in the medical bay around the corner."

"Thank you," I at least try to make the words sound thankful before I sprint down the hallway and to the left, dodging clusters of busy people. I end up skidding to a stop, narrowly avoiding a tall gangly nurse with cropped grey hair.

"Woah, we heal injuries, not create them." He jokes in a friendly tone with a polite smile.

"Sorry," I screw my face impatiently. "I'm looking for dr. Stanley?"

He blinks in surprise, "well he is me. I'm assuming you are dr. Knight?"

"Oh, uh yeah." I manage to get out, internally cursing myself for making a first impression like that.

"You've heard the deal?" He asks briskly, then continues at the sight of my confirming nod. "For about the next month, I'll be in charge. Whatever I say goes, wherever I tell you to go, you go." He looks at me once more to ensure I'm following, then sighs slightly with an apologetic expression. "Things have been insane in here over the past few days, so we're all going to have to do things that are below our pay grade."

That would explain the endless bustle of people urgently moving to and fro with impatient scowls.

"The patient in room B-26 needs tending to, report back when you're done." Then he whisks off to do something important down the next hallway without another word.

For a moment I'm stuck in shock at being thrown into this mess without so much as a tour. "Um, ok then. I'll just, go..." I mutter to myself and start looking for the right room.

Once I arrive at room B-26 I start looking at the diagnosis sheet given to me by an attendant with dainty freckles and a white smile.

Third degree burns covering the right arm, a large portion of the chest and some of the face. Checked in at 1:17 am two days ago.

Name: Ronin Cross

All of the sudden my heart stops. Ronin Cross? My first patient is Ronin Cross? The pyromaniac who's been on a criminal streak all across South Carolina for the past two months?

I try to slow my brain down. I take a deep breath and recollect myself.

He's just a normal patient, nice and easy. He hasn't even woken up yet, there's no way he could cause trouble.

I thrust open the door, rather grandly, and inspect the room. All is as it should be. I hear the door softly click close behind me and hesitantly take a few steps closer.

What are you so afraid of? Ghost stories? This guy is unconscious and half barbecued, he's not going anywhere.

I snort softly to myself, shaking off my worries, and start double checking his vitals. He actually doesn't look as formidable in person as on TV. I know from his records that he's tall, 6'3", but he doesn't look that strong as his muscles are slack, his arms splayed harmlessly on the hospital bed. His pale blonde hair is cropped close to his scalp and his skin that's not covered in bandages is light enough for me to compare it to a vampire. That is, until my hand accidentally brushes his arm while checking his IV.