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The twelve hour shift felt like it had been going on for twelve days and Trinity was tired.
No, that's a lie. She was fucking exhausted, the entire shift was toeing the line between patients
dying and patients just being fucking annoying. Constantly pressing the call button which
inhibited her from finishing her charting.
And then of course there was the looming threat from Dr Al Hashimi about repeating her R2
year.
If she'd known her for less than one day and was already on her bad side, Trinity didn’t have
much hope in their friendship blooming, but there was something about her. She seemed to
have a lot more going on for her than what sees the sun.
Trinity could relate to that. Since she could remember she’d been hiding her true feelings, for
fear of being seen weak. On the odd and few occasions that Trin had cried in front of someone
for something other than extreme physical pain, the humiliation and vulnerability that came with
it was too much for her to handle. Then of course the people checking up on her, it was almost
worse than if no one actually cared. Though at the same time, the only pro to crying in front of
someone was the care that you got given.
Maybe that's why she chose to become a doctor, to care for those who normally might not be
cared for in the way they need. Or maybe that’s a load of bullshit, she thinks as her head bangs
down onto the keyboard adding extra random letters to the seemingly endless chore of charts.
If Trinity had it her way, she would have an entire team of people just for charting. Or maybe
she’d just get rid of charts in general… The only pro was billing the patients which of course was
a major issue in itself.
At the loud thump, her roommate Whitaker turned his head to her with a concerned look on his
face.
“ Trinity! Jesus that would’ve hurt! Are you ok?”
She sighs as she lifts her head up from the desk, and swears loudly seeing as the last 10
minutes of work was deleted from her chart as she accidentally exited without saving.
“I’m fine Huckleberry, my charts? Not so much.” She responded before getting up abruptly,
giving Whitaker a mini heart attack when she kicked the trash can near there feet, knocking it
over.
Dennis makes the wise choice to not make a comment or follow her as she storms off to the
women's bathroom.
She looks underneath the stalls to see if anyone else is there before pulling her scrub bottoms
down and sitting on the toilet seat.
Santos takes a deep breath in, trying to calm herself down from the events of the shift.
Langdon was back, and he should’ve been fired. Arrested and charged, for stealing drugs from
the hospi-!
Her inner monologue rant was interrupted by a slamming sound of the cubicle next to her.
“Sweet Jesus!” She exclaims, at the shock of the loud bang.
“Sorry sorry,” says the person in the other stall.
This interaction breaks Trinity out of the spiral she was in. She pulls her underwear up before
the gaze lingers on the mostly healed scars that litter her left thigh. And for a moment, god all
she wants to relapse, That would make everything better right? Fix her shit with Langdon,
catch her up with her charts, help her figure out what is going on with the deaf women. Oh and
not to forget Garcia's rain check and casual comments. The solution presents itself as almost a
saviour but Trinity knows better than to cut at work. That was a hard line she set for herself way
back in medical school. That is if she were to continue this habit, it could not interfere with her
work. And also that she wouldn't talk to anyone about it.
She was surprisingly good at hiding it, even with her romantic partners. Whenever she and
Garcia would sleep together, Trinity always made sure that the light was off and would redirect
Garcia's hand from her thigh with the scars. It had worked so far. Unfortunately even with her
medical expertise, Santos didn’t truly see the issue with her self harming. Sure, she felt shame
about it and knew that if anyone found out it would be horrible. But her mind justified this habit
by telling herself that it could be worse, and that cutting herself not even deep is much better
than drugs, or starving herself or even suicide.
feeling in this situation whilst also growing increasingly impatient at the delay.
“ I mean yes, I don’t want men in the room, but I just don’t think it's necessary.”
Santos waves the male nurse and student doctors out before shutting the door and turning to
Grace. “ Grace I'm sorry but we need to do this now. If you don’t consent this is what will
happen. We will go next door and get your mothers consent as you are a minor. Then if you still
won’t co operate, you will be restrained as we check you for injuries. Obviously neither of us
want that to happen so we need to come to a decision now.” explains Trinity with her hands on
her hip waiting for the response.
“Fine, you can cut my clothes off.” huffs Grace, looking away while Santos grabs the scissors
again and begins to cut the shirt off, leaving her top half only covered by a sports bra and
revealing a plethora of bruises on the chest. “Ok, see this is why it was necessary. Now I know
to check these bruises to make sure that it's not anything more serious. Next I need to cut your
pants.” Grace nods, giving up to the fact that there truly wasn’t a choice in the matter.The pants
are cut off and Grace is wearing sports shorts underneath. “ Grace, I think I’m going to also
need to cut your shorts, is that alright?” Queries Trinity, trying to give the girl some autonomy
back. “I mean you're going to do it either way aren’t you so what’s the point of asking?”
Santos sighs at the attitude. “I think I can probably leave the shorts for a little at least until you're
more covered up. Would that be more comfortable for you?” Her patience sorely tested as she
asks.
Surprisingly at that information the girl becomes less hostile and agrees.
Trinity begins to treat and examine her injuries, lucklily none of them being super severe.
“So, how's school?” She asks, trying to fill the awkward silence.
“Um, it’s fine. Not my favourite but y’know could be worse.”
Trinity grimaces remembering her high school memories. “Mm yeah I get that. I don’t think I
would go back to high school for any amount of money. Do you have a favourite subject?”
“Drama or English probably. I hate maths though.”Grace says, opening up a little bit. Santos
laughs “ yeah that's valid. I was never any good at English but I still didn’t like maths. So do you
do theatre?” “yep, it’s my favourite thing to do. I do dance as well, but I prefer singing and
acting. That might just be because I'm not too good at dancing, it's fun though.”
“Ahh that's cool. I did gymnastics all throughout my schooling years, then I quit and moved to
medicine.” replies trinity pushing down on one of Grace's bruises on her upper stomach.
“Fuck!! Sorry that one hurt.” exclaims Grace. “ Don’t worry about it. And this bruise is slightly
concerning. I think you might need a ct to rule out a bleed.”
“How's my mum?” She asks, ignoring Trinity's comment. “ Sorry, I don’t know. But after your CT
I can go and check and let you know.” She says, resorting to bribery.
“Fine.” Mission succeeded. Jesus dealing with teenagers is rough, thinks Trinity.
“So when's the CT?” “Probably in a couple of hours. We’ve got to wait for it to be free. And because you're not urgent it could take a while. Sorry.”
She shrugs at that response, shocking Trinity as most patients usually get rather upset being
told that it could be a while. “”Does the wait not bother you?” She asks, genuinely curious.
“Nah, I’m gonna be here until my mum's ready so I already have to wait. I can deal with it.”
“You're more mature than the majority of my patients. Impressive.”
“Well looks like i have a while to catch up on some schoolwork. Did the ambulance bring my
schoolbag by any chance?”
“Um yes I believe they did, I'm just not sure where they put it. Give me a couple of minutes to
find it. Wait, why did you have your schoolbag? It’s the weekend.”
“Rehersals. I bing my schoolwork to do there when i’m not being used.”
“How often do you have rehearsals?” Asks Trinity trying to keep the conversation going.
“Twice a week, often three. Then I practice singing and dancing every night so.”
“Wow that’s dedication. Ok so we have three hours before the CT is free, so I’m going to put this
blanket over your chest and cut your shorts off so I can see any injuries.”
Grace sighs deeply, shaking slightly. “ fine,”
Santos reaches for the scissors and cuts the left side, then the right, before pausing and looking at the
collection horizontally placed of cuts and scars on the upper thigh…