Eliana's POV
I can't open my eyes.My limbs feel like they've been filled with cement.My lips? Pretty sure they've taken a vow of silence.
"Eliana?"
Yes, I hear you.No, I'm not dead.I just wish I was...
Wait—not dead-dead. Just mildly unconscious and emotionally unavailable. 😵💫
"Eliana, can you hear me?"
Crystal clear, unfortunately.I just can't move. Or speak. Or scream into the void.
"Ms. Benjamin?"
Ah, there it is—Ms. Benjamin—like I'm a retired librarian who collects teacups and disappointment.
I try to open my eyes.Fail.Try again.Fail harder.
Third time's the charm—bam—blinding hospital lights.A beige ceiling (or maybe that's just my soul leaving my body).A curtain.And people. A lot of people.
Doctors. Nurses. Some folks who look like they wandered off the set of Grey's Anatomy.
I'm not special. Not a VIP patient.Just a regular med intern who face-planted during her first surgery like it was a TikTok trend.
"How are you feeling?"
A pair of hands gently props me up. My vision sharpens and—Oh no.No, no, no.
Dr. Waylon.Still looking like he walked off the cover of Best Doctors of the Year.Hair slightly messy—in a good way.Eyes calm, curious… possibly judging.
Wait. Surgery.Oh no.I was assisting him.My first surgery.
And then I—
Flashback:
"Ms. Benjamin," Dr. Waylon said as we scrubbed in, "this is your first surgery. Feeling excited?"
Excited?Yeah. Totally thrilled to be elbow-deep in someone's intestines instead of sipping iced coffee in a bookstore like a normal 22-year-old with free will. ☕📖
"Yes, Dr. Waylon," I said aloud.(I'm scared, underqualified, and pretty sure my left eyelid is twitching from anxiety.)
The surgery began with the usual bustle.I stood beside him, trying not to look like a deer caught in the OR lights.My heart thudded like an over-caffeinated drummer at a rock concert. 🥁
Someone handed me a retractor.I took it like it was a cursed blade from a fantasy novel.
"Retract here," Dr. Waylon instructed, cool as ever.
I leaned in, hands trembling like I was defusing a bomb.(Because, well... kinda.)
Okay, Eliana. Just breathe.In.Out.
In the beginning, things actually went… okay?I held things.I didn't faint.I was basically a surgical rockstar. 💪✨
Then—
Beep.Beep-beep.BEEEEEEEP.
Every monitor in the room suddenly turned into the soundtrack of a horror movie.
"BP dropping!""Oxygen saturation's crashing!"
My eyes flicked to the patient's face.His lips were turning blue.Blue.As in, Smurf blue. 🧊
"Check the airway!" Dr. Waylon snapped—his calm cracking for the first time.
Chaos erupted. Nurses moved fast. Commands flew.And I?
I stood frozen—As helpful as a mannequin in scrubs.
My brain? Offline.My body? Sweaty. Shaky. Useless.
The beeping wouldn't stop.It echoed in my skull, drilling in like guilt.I wanted to help.I should've helped.But my body had other plans.
Knees? Wobbling.Vision? Spinning.Brain? Buffering.
And then—Thud.Floor.Face.Darkness.
Back to Present
"Eliana?"
A voice slices through the haze.I blink.
Dr. Waylon is at my side, arms crossed.His face unreadable—but his eyes linger a second too long, like he's deciding between scolding me… or handing me a juice box.
Why is he looking at me like that?Do I have FAILURE tattooed across my forehead?(Or worse… Did I snore while unconscious?) 😳
"Hmmm," I mumble—the universal sound of 'I'm alive but dead inside.'
"I asked if you're okay," he says, gentler this time.
"Oh. Yes. I'm… fine now."(Define "fine," Eliana. You just blacked out like a phone on 1% battery.)
He nods. "Good."Then, to the others: "Back to work, everyone."
They shuffle out.I want to disappear with them.Into a supply closet.Or a black hole.Or a different timeline.
But then it escapes me before I can stop it—
"Dr. Waylon… What about the patient? Is he… is he all right?"
He pauses.Long enough to make my stomach knot itself into origami.
Then he gently pats my shoulder.
"Don't be hard on yourself. It was your first surgery. We're doctors—our job is to try to save lives. But we can't change the fact of death."
Death.
The patient died??
My throat tightens.My eyes sting.The beeping's still there—just quieter now, buried under shame.
I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the tears.
I came here to save lives.Instead, I fainted while someone died three feet away.
How do you come back from that?