Vivien
Everyone in the hospital called me an angel.
I hated that word.
It carried a sickening , fragile weight.
Angels were pure. Angels sacrificed.
Most of all, angels forgave.
I never did.
I washed my hands, letting the scalding water sting my skin until the last lingering scent of antiseptic and stale coffee scrubbed away.
Adjusting my white coat, I composed my face, softening the harsh line of my mouth into something warm and trustworthy.
Then, I smiled at the little girl waiting outside my office.
"Good morning, Doctor,"- she mumbled, her voice barely louder than the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.-
"Good morning, sweetheart," -I replied, kneeling on the cold linoleum until we were at eye level.-
-She clutched a stuffed rabbit so tightly its faded fabric ears had begun to unravel at the seams. Fear radiated off her in quiet, trembling waves.
"Does it hurt?"- I asked softly, keeping my cadence gentle and measured.-
-She nodded, biting her lower lip.
"That's okay. I'll make it better."
Children were easy. Their world was simple, built on surface impressions; they trusted anyone who smiled with soft eyes and spoke without raising their voice.
Adults were more complicated. They were naturally paranoid. They looked for honesty in the slight twitch of your jaw, the brief hesitation in your breath, the steady focus of your eyes.
Lucky for me, I'd spent years perfecting mine.
Footsteps squeaked against the freshly waxed floor behind me. A nurse paused near the threshold, clutching a stack of patient charts against her chest.
"Dr. Vivin," -she said, her expression a mix of awe and exasperation.-
"You should really go home. You've been on the floor since six this morning."
-I stood up, smoothing the front of my coat, and offered her the same practiced, effortless smile. -
"Just one more patient, Sarah."
"You're so selfless it's going to ruin you, Doctor," -she sighed, shaking her head as she backed away down the corridor.- "Don't burn out on us."
"I'm perfectly okay, stop worrying," I called after her softly. "Go wrap up your shift."
"Up to you, Doctor."
By twelve-thirty in the morning, the hospital had descended into that eerie, hollow quiet unique to late-night shifts.
The sharp smell of bleach hung heavy in the air, punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic beep of monitors down the hall.
I finally finished with the little girl and guided her and her mother to the exit. I watched them disappear into the dimly lit hallway, the mother offering me one last exhausted, grateful nod before the double doors swung shut.
Silence settled over the corridor like heavy dust.
I turned around to head back to my desk-and froze.
Someone was standing at the far end of the hallway, just on the edge of the yellow light dropped by the overhead fixtures.
A man.
He wasn't staring rudely, nor was he leaning against the wall with the tired slouch of a patient's relative. He was standing perfectly upright. Just... watching me.
For a long, lingering second, neither of us moved. The quiet stretched between us, thick and watchful.
Then, he took a slow step forward, his shoes making no sound on the floor.
"Excuse me," -he said, his voice smooth, completely devoid of the late-night fatigue that infected everyone else in this building.- "I'm looking for Dr. Vivin."
-I didn't flinch. I blinked once, letting my eyes settle on him, recalibrating my mask.-
"You found her."
A slow, deliberate smile touched the corners of his mouth.
"Good."
