Angie
I’ve been in medical school for a couple of months now, and I don’t feel close to anyone.
I’m okay with that.
I spend my days going to class, my evenings studying, and my weekends doing lab work and studying some more. Some of the students have outside jobs to pay for school. For the life of me, I don’t know how they do it. They must not sleep.
I spy Tabitha talking with Elijah Garrett, the guy in the back who seems hell-bent on cutting into his cadaver. I walk up to them cautiously.
“Hey, Angie,” Tabitha says. “Have you met Eli?”
“I don’t think so.” I hold out my hand.
Eli shakes it. “Tabitha’s been telling me you’re a little grossed out by all of this.”
I resist rolling my eyes. Great. Pretty soon the whole class will know I’m the one who is squeamish about cutting into dead bodies.
In a way, it doesn’t make any sense. I grew up on a ranch. My family raises cattle for food, and I enjoy steak as well as anyone. Especially those from my family’s ranch—the best beef in Colorado. Some say in the country.
Of course, cutting into a cooked piece of meat is a lot different from the body of a human corpse. It’s a lot harder to separate yourself from the situation when a dead person’s eyes are staring at you the whole time.
“Nice to meet you, Eli,” I say. I give Tabitha a side glance, my eyebrow raised ever so slightly.
She giggles, covering her mouth.
Eli just smiles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He’s tall and thin, and his raven-black hair falls over his forehead, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. He reminds me of Edward Scissorhands.
Ha!
Scissorhands who wants to cut.
“Looks like we’d better get back in there.” Eli gestures toward the crowd of students walking back in the lab room.
I nod and walk back into the room, trying not to stare at Dr. Lansing.
Jason.
Jason Lansing.
What a nice name.
Until a fresh wave of formaldehyde hits me. I swallow hard, trying to keep my stomach at bay. Around me, students chatter. Tabitha takes her place next to me, our cadaver still covered except for the exposed thoracic area.
“Okay, let’s get back to things,” Dr. Lansing says from the front of the room. “As you know, you won’t be cutting today.”
A big groan from Eli and a few others.
He holds a hand up. “This isn’t something you go into without your eyes being wide open and without your stomach being tough as nails.” He looks around the room, his gaze homing in on me.
Great.
“This isn’t for the faint of heart. If you can’t handle this”—he gestures to the sheeted forms on the tables—“then maybe it’s time to reconsider your career path.”
Seriously?
My eyes are wide as Jason stares straight at me. Again.
He just told me how I need to be here if I want to heal the physical and the mental.
