Page 12 of Sinful in Scrubs

I peeled off the surgical scrubs and tossed them into the hazmat bin before wiping off my head cover and pulling off the bootie covers on my shoes. I let out another long, weary sigh and grabbed the back of my neck, rotating my shoulders. I needed to get the tension out.

This had been a hard case, but I reminded myself how much easier my job was now. I figured if I lied enough to myself, I’d believe it.

The door pushed open, and Dr. Chen—Emma—walked in with a groan.

“You too, huh?” I asked.

She peeled off her surgical scrubs, and I averted my eyes. She had a bad habit of just pulling her bloody top off. She also had a bad habit of not wearing additional protective gear when in the thick of an emergency.

I didn’t glance over to her until she sat with a thud onto the bench next to me. She had a new clean blue scrub top on.

“Those kids were entirely too young,” she said.

“I know the gangs recruit them younger.”

“How is your vic—your patient, the stabbing victim?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” I said. “So, you had the perp?” I guessed.

She nodded. “Apparently, I did.”

“My kid’s gonna be fine. It was touch and go, but he came through. The kid came through. And yours?”

She shrugged. “I stitched him up. He’ll be right as rain for when they send him to juvenile. How do you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Stay objective. Keep a clear head, separated from what it is we do.”

I chuckled low. “I was just convincing myself of how much easier all of this was than my previous life.”

“Military?” she asked.

I nodded.

“But kids… they’re innocent.”

“Well, at least they’re, you know, supposed to be. Unless someone convinces them to take their grandmother’s kitchen knife and plunge it into the neighbor, right?”

“Definitely not so innocent.”

I reached over and patted her on the knee. “Don’t think like that. That kid is still, in a sense, a victim of manipulation and grooming and circumstances. His wounds are just different. They’re going to be psychological.”

She started. “His wounds are going to turn him into a killer someday. There won’t be a neighbor who finds him plunging a knife into another kid because he’s got to kill someone to get into his little club. He’s going to make it, and somebody is going to die. It’s hard to see him as a victim when that’s what we’re dealing with, you know?”

I nodded. “I know. Inner city life isn’t easy. It’s just a different kind of battlefield, I guess,” I admitted.

“And when they’re out cold and sedated?” she began. “They just look so sweet, and it’s so hard to look at that angelic little face that’s splattered with blood.”

I squeezed her knee. “Don’t let it break you. Do not let that one kid prevent you from doing what you do. You’re out here saving lives, making a difference.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” I saw her wiping tears from her eyes in my peripheral vision.

“That’s what I’m telling you. My inner voice is messed up sometimes. I don’t necessarily know how well I trust listening to my own advice, but my outside voice—this one, the words I’m giving you, I’ve thought these through. These are logical. These are sound. These come from years of experience. When you’re in the thick of things, just remember you’re doing your best. And when they take your patient off to recovery, it’s recovery, and you know you’ve done a good job.”

“I guess… I guess I just never really expected that I would be working on potential murderers and sewing them back together.”

“Is that why you specialized in kids? So you didn’t have to work on the bad guys?” I asked.

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