Hospital of Hell

Thirteen

Trigger  Warning ⚠️

Scarlett

Working in healthcare really can bring out the worst or the best in an individual. You see the absolute horrors this world has to offer. And that's for any healthcare job in any facility.

I've always been a nurturer at heart. As a child I had always had my mind set on doing something to help others. Healthcare seemed to be the easiest way to do that. It brings me serenity when I save a life.

My family, however, is the opposite. My dad kills and slanders for shits and giggles, my mom following blindly. She's never been independent. She's a great mother, but she's not necessarily a good woman. Once her and my father got together she chose not to work, to depend solely on his money. She's never done a single thing for herself.

My sister Olivia is a shadow of my mother. We grew up in the same household, same life, but a different mentality. With her being so young it terrifies me to know she's succumbed to that lifestyle so willingly. I tried to change her mind and show her my lifestyle instead; having my own job, car, and a house. She enjoyed it but it's not something that she craves the same way I did.

"Sixteen year old female in trauma bay two. Same as the previous five we've had the last two weeks. Handprints around the neck, the esophagus nearly swollen shut. Extreme vaginal trauma. A small heart carved in the right hip the size of a quarter." A nurse walks over to me, her voice hushed as we glance over the chart together.

Two weeks ago we had a rape victim brought in, thrown outside the doors of the hospital. Literally thrown. An SUV pulled up, pushed her body out of the vehicle and left. The amount of trauma that was seen during the rape kit for that seventeen-year-old girl had the majority of the emergency room staff in shambles. The girl was in a daze, clearly coming too from being drugged. She didn't remember much which is a blessing and a curse. I'm glad she doesn't remember the feeling of the bastard touching her body and doing unimaginable things to her, but at the same time it has to be a sick feeling to not know. Not know how many, what was used, if they recorded it.

After the first girl, Carolyn, we received another girl every two to three days. Same bruising, same heart, same trauma. The heart is nearly perfect every time. The piece of shit brands his victims.

Due to the nature of our job we aren't able to just call the police and let them handle it. We have to take it into our own hands and do whatever we possibly can. It's a sickening feeling. I can't stop the man, I can't prevent it from happening to the next girl and the bitch knows it. He knows he can get away with it because we can't take legal action. All we do is pick up the pieces he continues to break.

I sigh, preparing myself before walking over to the trauma bay.

"Please, please, make it stop," the young girl sobs uncontrollably. Her voice is scratchy and breathless. Her two braids that were once nice and neat are falling apart, stray hairs coming out everywhere. Her lip is busted, it looks like it was bitten. Her neck is red and brown with fresh bruises. Her dress is covered in grime and blood.

She isn't like the other five. She's awake and lucid. All of the others weren't able to comprehend a sentence until hours upon arrival. I can feel myself needing to vomit, watching her scan the room repeatedly for signs of immediate danger. She looks so young, so pure.

"Hello, my name is Nurse Star. Can you tell me your name?" I grab a seat and pull it beside her. The other three staff in the room take a step back from the patient, waiting for me to tell them what action to take.

"I-I want to go home. Everything hurts. Please let me go home," a hiccup interrupts her.

"You're going to go home soon, my love. But I've got to take care of you first, is that okay?" I reach my hand out to her but I don't touch her. I just want her to know that the opportunity of comfort is here if she needs it.