Chanel Blaque, a motivated 26 year old who's striving to become a future Cardiocthoracic surgeon begins her first day at Seattle Grace Hospital as an intern. After 4 years of medical school, she was thrilled to spend her residency at one of her top...
"NEVER TRY TO PLEASE ANYONE. KNOW YOUR WORTH. DON'T BE AFRAID TO LOSE SOMEONE. LET IT GO, OR ELSE YOU'LL LOSE YOURSELF ALONG THE WAY." - CHANEL BLAQUE
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[ THE • FAILING • HEART ]
"Why is the Nazi making us stay in the pit two days in a row?" Shawn asks me as Layla and I entered the hospital with a cup of coffee in our hands.
"There's a race happening," I answered. "Pedestrians, bikers, and many more people will get injured today."
"Meanwhile, she gets to do a freaking appendectomy," Shawn mutters gruffly. "How did you even get that? You were doing rectal exams all day yesterday."
Layla chuckled. "It kills you, doesn't it?"
"What?"
"That I get to do an appendectomy and you don't?" She says with a mischievous smile.
"No, it kills me that you got the surgery for sticking fingers up people's asses and I didn't." He explains with an annoyed look.
"Why? Is it because I was a pornstar and you think I don't have potential?" She raises her eyebrows at him.
"Blowjobs do not factor into this equation," he says with a smirk. "Unless, uh, you want to give me one."
I looked at him and grimaced. "You are absolutely disgusting."
"Tell me something I don't know, babe." He smirks.
"I'm gonna go take the stairs." I said.
"Me too." Layla agrees before we both walked away from Shawn and headed towards the glass staircase.
♤♤♤
"What is this race that everybody is talking about?" Jamal asks. "I've only been in Seattle for a few months now."
"Every year this bar—the Dead Baby bar—they hold this underground bike race," I answered while putting on my trauma scrubs. "The race is completely illegal and crazy. Bike messengers racing against traffic, trying to beat each other for free shots of vodka."
"All-out, no-holds-barred competition sounds like fun." Shawn says with a sly grin.
"The race doesn't even have any rules," I added. "Except for eye-gouging. No eye gouging."
"We're gonna be in the pit band-aiding idiots when we could be up in the O.R doing something," Amelia mutters gruffly. "I didn't get a PhD just to band-aid little cuts."
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