CHAPTER 4
My patient has a gun.
Having a weapon drawn on me by a patient was one of those ER nurse bucket list items I never wanted to check off.
But, in that moment, I tick that box off with a hard, fearful swallow.
He lets go of my wrist. But any relief I might have felt about that dies a quick death when he uses that hand to slide back the chamber, c*****g it to discharge right in my face.
Only my years of training in the ER keep me from peeing my pants. Is this how I’m going to die?
I brace myself for that possibility, but instead of shooting, he blinks at me. Once. Twice. Like I’m an apparition he can’t unsee. “Who are you?”
Meanwhile, in the background of our one-sided conversation, the sound of several guns being c****d goes off behind me.
“Don’t worry about her name, puta.
