DASHIELL
I stood outside Sophia's room for exactly ten seconds, adjusting the strap of my tablet case until it sat perfectly level against my hip. The files in my hands were already arranged in descending order of importance: recent EEG summary on top, previous imaging second, lab results third. I liked them that way. It made my brain feel quieter.
Taking a slow breath, I knocked twice then stepped inside.
Sophia was four years old, small for her age, sitting on the bed with her legs dangling. Her mother sat beside her, looking exhausted. A nurse I worked with, Nurse Kim, stood quietly in the corner, ready to assist.
"Good morning," I said directly, making brief eye contact with the mother before shifting my gaze to Sophia's forehead. Eye contact for too long felt like static in my head. "I'm Dr. Astor. I'll be handling Sophia's neurology case today."
The mother gave a tired smile. "Hi, Doctor. She had another staring spell this morning. It lasted almost twenty seconds."
I nodded once, already moving. I placed my tablet and files on the small rolling table and arranged them in a perfect line, tablet left, files right, pen parallel to the edge. The symmetry helped me focus.
"Sophia," I said, keeping my voice calm and even, "I'm going to check a few things, okay? You can tell me if anything feels strange."
She nodded shyly.
I started with the neurological exam, the way I always did, systematic, no deviations. I checked her pupils, had her follow my finger with her eyes, tested her reflexes, and asked her to squeeze my fingers. When I gently palpated her head, feeling for any abnormalities or tenderness, she stayed still. Good girl.
"Any headaches?" I asked her directly.
She shook her head.
"Any dizziness or funny feelings before the staring starts?"
"Sometimes my tummy feels weird," she whispered.
I made a mental note and turned to Nurse Kim. "Let's set up for a bedside EEG. I want to capture any events if they happen during the day. Also, prepare for possible prolonged video EEG if these continue."
"Yes, Doctor," Kim replied, already moving efficiently.
I turned back to the mother, speaking plainly because I didn't see the point in softening facts. "The pattern on her last EEG suggests possible absence seizures, but the mild motor regression is concerning. We'll rule out structural issues with an MRI if needed. For now, we monitor closely and may start medication if the events increase."
The mother's eyes filled with worry. "Does she need surgery?"
"Not at this time," I answered honestly. "This doesn't look like a surgical lesion from what I've seen. But we'll be thorough."
I arranged the EEG leads myself, my fingers moving with practiced precision, double-checking each placement. The routine calmed the low-level static in my brain that had lingered since yesterday's incident. My cheek still throbbed faintly under the bruise, but I pushed the discomfort aside. Hyperfocus was useful like that.
As I worked, Sophia watched me with big eyes.
"Are you going to fix my brain?" she asked suddenly.
I paused, then gave her a small, direct smile. "I'm going to try to understand it first. That's the most important part."
She seemed satisfied with that answer.
The EEG setup took me twelve minutes exactly.
I adjusted the last lead on Sophia's forehead, making sure the impedance was perfect before stepping back. Everything was lined up, wires neatly bundled, monitor positioned at the exact angle I preferred, pen and notepad parallel to the edge of the table.
"Alright," I said to Sophia, keeping my voice steady and clear. "We're going to watch your brain waves for a while. If you feel that funny tummy feeling or start staring, just stay as still as you can. Okay?"
She nodded, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.
Her mother hovered nearby, twisting her hands. "Is this going to hurt her?"
"No," I answered. "It's painless. Just sticky pads and wires. The most uncomfortable part is staying still."
I sat on the stool beside the bed, eyes fixed on the monitor as the real-time EEG tracing began scrolling across the screen. My fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic pattern against my thigh under the table to keep my focus sharp while the room's fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead.
For the first twenty minutes, everything looked relatively stable. Then Sophia went still.
Her eyes glazed over. The classic absence seizure pattern bloomed across the screen, sudden, rhythmic 3 Hz spike-and-wave discharges.
I leaned forward, hyperfocused, my tapping stopping instantly.
"There," I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else. "Generalized. But look at the amplitude on the left side…"
Nurse Kim moved closer. "Should I note the time?"
"Yes. Mark it. Duration… eighteen seconds." I didn't look away from the screen. "This isn't typical childhood absence epilepsy. The regression and focal elements worry me."
The mother's voice cracked. "What does that mean, Doctor?"
I turned to her. "It means we need to rule out structural causes. We'll do an MRI this afternoon under sedation if necessary. There might be something in her brain causing these seizures."
The woman's face paled. "Surgery? You said no surgery earlier…."
"I said not at this time," I corrected calmly. "That can change with new information."
Sophia came out of the seizure blinking, looking confused. I gave her a small, direct smile.
"You did very well. The bunny helped."
She hugged the toy tighter.
I stayed in the room for another forty minutes, watching the tracing like it held the answers to every question in the universe. My leg bounced under the table when the lights felt too bright, but I kept my hands still on the clipboard.
When I finally stepped out of the room to write my notes, my fingers were already tapping again, faster now, the rhythm helping me organize my thoughts.
Sophia's case was getting more complicated.
And I was going to figure it out.
Even if it meant another long day of blocking out everything else.
*****
I finished writing my notes on Sophia with precise, neat handwriting, each line perfectly aligned. I closed the chart, tapped my fingers three times on the edge of the desk and stood up
Time to check on Mateo.
The hospital had confirmed the subdural hematoma was caused by blunt force trauma from his stepfather. Social Services had temporarily restricted the mother's unsupervised access while the investigation continued. Mateo was now under hospital protective care. His mother wasn't allowed in the room without supervision, so the room was quiet when I entered.
Mateo was sitting up in bed, playing with a toy car someone had brought him. He looked much better than when he was first admitted, color back in his cheeks, no more vomiting, and his seizures had been controlled with medication.
"Hi, Mateo," I said directly, keeping my voice soft but clear. I stood at the foot of the bed instead of getting too close. "How are you feeling today?"
The little boy looked up and gave me a small smile. "Better. My head doesn't hurt as much."
"That's good." I checked his chart quickly, then looked at him again. "You're being very brave. We're going to keep helping your brain get stronger, okay?"
He nodded. "Are you the doctor who told them what happened?"
I paused, then answered honestly. "Yes. I had to. Because I want you to be safe."
Mateo was quiet for a moment, then went back to playing with his car. I stayed a few more minutes, making sure his neuro checks were stable, before leaving the room.
I was heading toward the staff restroom at the end of the hall when it happened.
A strong hand suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me sideways into the open storage room. The door clicked shut behind me. My heart slammed against my ribs. Panic spiked hard, I stumbled, back hitting a shelf, hands flying up instinctively to protect myself.
"W-what.. let go…!"
I was already starting to spiral, breath coming too fast, when a familiar deep, flat voice cut through the fear.
"Relax, little anomaly."
Alexander.
I froze, still breathing hard, my body tense against the shelf. The storage room was dim, filled with shelves of supplies. He towered over me, one hand still holding my wrist, the other braced beside my head on the shelf.
I glared up at him, annoyed and flustered. "You can't just drag me into a storage room like that! I thought someone was attacking me. My heart is racing and I hate surprises…."
He didn't let go. Instead, he stepped closer, his much larger body caging me in. His thumb brushed slowly over my bruised cheek, careful but possessive. The touch felt… tolerable. Different from anyone else's. His touch didn't feel like sandpaper on my skin.
"You're still swollen," he observed flatly, eyes dark. "And your lip is split and you stubbornly came to work anyway."
"Of course I did," I muttered, cheeks heating.
Alexander's thumb pressed lightly against my bottom lip, cutting me off.
"Shh." His voice was low, cold, and commanding. "I didn't drag you in here to talk about patients."
My breath hitched. Even though my body was still buzzing from the earlier overload, something about the way he loomed over me, the way his fingers held my chin, made heat curl low in my stomach.
"Then why?" I asked, voice quieter.
His dark eyes dragged over my face, then down my body lustfully.
"Because I've been thinking about how pretty you looked on your knees the other night," he said calmly, like he was discussing a surgery schedule. "And how much I want to see you like that again. Covered in me. Crying. Choking. Making those pathetic little sounds."
My face burned. I tried to look away, but he held my chin firmly.
"Alexander… we're at work," I whispered, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. "Someone could walk in."
"Let them." He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. "Let them see who you belong to."
His free hand slid down to grip my hip, pulling me flush against him. I could feel how hard he was.
I shivered, hands fisting in his white coat. "You're… impossible."
He smirked, a sharp curve of his lips.
"And you're mine."
He pressed a firm, possessive kiss to my bruised cheek first, then tilted my chin up and claimed my mouth.
The kiss was deep, demanding, and unapologetic. His tongue pushed past my swollen lips, tasting me like he owned every inch. I whimpered into his mouth as he devoured me, one large hand still gripping my jaw while the other slid down to squeeze my ass, pulling me flush against his hard body. The kiss was wet, rough, and left me gasping when he finally pulled back.
My lips were even more swollen now, glistening, and I was breathing hard.
Alexander looked down at me with dark satisfaction, thumb dragging slowly across my bottom lip.
"Fix your face before you go back to your patients," he said coolly, adjusting the front of his white coat. "You look like you've been used."
My face burned with embarrassment. I was painfully hard, lips tingling, and the taste of him still lingered in my mouth. The sudden intense kiss on top of everything else left my nervous system buzzing.
Then, without another word, he turned, opened the door, and walked out like nothing had happened, leaving me flushed, breathless, and painfully hard in the storage room.
I stood there for a few seconds, heart racing, fingers tapping rapidly against my thigh.