Chapter Twelve

Tuesday;

I woke up just after three in the morning, the house still wrapped in darkness and silence. The only light came from the soft glow of the kitchen as I quietly moved around, gathering ingredients to make breakfast for Aunt Grace before her shift at the hospital. I cracked a few eggs, whisking them gently, and the smell of frying bacon soon filled the air, mingling with the warmth of fresh coffee brewing in the pot. As I plated the food, I considered driving with her today, maybe volunteering again, but doubt lingered.

Yesterday's quiz in Prof. Montgomery's lecture was a harsh wake-up call. If I didn't start taking my studies seriously, especially with her random quizzes, I'd be caught off guard every time. I'd barely skimmed the materials, let alone studied, and it showed. Thankfully, these quizzes supposedly didn't count towards our final grades—or at least I hoped they didn't.

But seriously, Prof. Montgomery had issues. How hard was it to forgive someone for a small mistake? Yes, I'd lost my cool and stormed into her office, demanding answers I probably had no right to, but it wasn't like she was a stranger to yelling herself. She did it daily, tearing us down with her cold, sharp words. So why couldn't she just accept my apology and move on?

When I apologized yesterday, Prof. Montgomery's expression was so indifferent it was almost laughable. She looked at me as though she'd rather endure a sixteen-hour flight without in-flight entertainment or even a book to keep her company. It was like my words were just background noise to her, barely worth a flicker of attention.

Why am I even thinking about this? I need to let it go. I sighed, setting the table and hoping Aunt Grace would enjoy the breakfast, even as my thoughts kept circling back to the professor who seemed to make forgiveness an impossible task.

My aunt shuffled into the kitchen, still in her pajamas, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Val?" she mumbled, blinking at me in confusion. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I made you breakfast!" I said brightly, practically bouncing over to pull her toward the dining table. I guided her into a chair, ignoring her half-hearted protests. She chuckled softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's very kind of you, but you didn't have to go to all this trouble."

I rolled my eyes playfully and sat down across from her, watching as she eyed the plate in front of her. "Yes, I did," I insisted. "You're always doing things for me, and it's about time I returned the favor."

She took a bite of crispy bacon, her eyes softening as she chewed. "Thank you, honey," she said, her voice warm and genuine. The simple gratitude in her tone made the early wake-up call worth it, and for a moment, I let go of my frustrations and just enjoyed the quiet morning with her.

My aunt took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes flickering to me over the rim of the cup. "You coming to the hospital today?" she asked, her tone casual, though she glanced at her watch as if already calculating the time. Should I? I mulled it over, weighing my options. Maybe a half shift wouldn't hurt—I could study later.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, nodding, though a flicker of doubt lingered.

"Perfect," my aunt said, a pleased smile spreading across her face. "Dr. Bryson has a cholecystectomy scheduled for today, and he was wondering if you'd like to observe in the OR."

My heart leapt at the opportunity. The idea of being back in the OR was thrilling—another chance to see the action up close. "Seriously? I'd love that!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands together in excitement. "I'll go get ready." I sprang up from my chair, nearly knocking it over in my rush, and darted down the hallway to my room.

The anticipation buzzed through me as I rifled through my closet, grabbing clothes to change into. Getting to observe another surgery was such an incredible opportunity, and I was grateful that Dr. Bryson was so welcoming. Even though I wasn't planning on a career in medicine, the chance to watch real surgeries was a thrill I couldn't pass up.

✿

It was just past ten in the morning, and I stood in the OR, fidgeting slightly as I adjusted the mask covering my face. The sterile, clinical scent of the room mixed with the faint hum of machinery around me. These masks were suffocating, and I couldn't fathom how surgeons managed to wear them for hours at a stretch, day in and day out. Luckily, this cholecystectomy would only last an hour or two—just enough for me to endure.

The door swung open, and Dr. Bryson strode in with his usual confident energy. The nurses quickly moved to help him don his gloves, snapping them snugly over his hands. As the patient was put under anesthesia, the room fell into a focused quiet, the only sounds being the rhythmic beeping of the monitors.

Dr. Bryson positioned himself beside the patient and carefully made a small incision, just four to six inches below the right rib cage. I watched intently, captivated by the precision of his movements. His hands were steady, deliberate, as he navigated through the layers of tissue, revealing the gallbladder.

With meticulous skill, he worked to detach the organ, severing connections with a calm efficiency that was almost mesmerizing. Once the gallbladder was free, he placed it in a basin and inserted a surgical drain into the wound—a slender tube designed to siphon off any excess fluids. Dr. Bryson's focus never wavered as he secured the incision with neat stitches, ensuring the drain was held firmly in place.

I observed every detail, soaking in the choreography of the procedure. The way Dr. Bryson moved, the calculated precision, and the teamwork that flowed around him were all remarkable. Even though I wasn't on the path to becoming a surgeon, witnessing this firsthand was an experience that filled me with awe.

The rush from the OR still buzzed through me as I practically floated down the hallway, eager to share every detail with Elizabeth. I reached her room and knocked softly before pushing the door open. She was sitting on the small couch by the window, a slight change from her usual spot on the hospital bed. She looked up and her face lit up instantly.

"Val!" she greeted, her voice bright as she patted the cushion next to her. "Come, come, sit. I'm tired of staring at these four walls."

I settled down beside her, grinning. "Hey, Elizabeth! How are you holding up?"

Elizabeth clicked her tongue and tossed her head back in an exaggerated roll of the eyes. "Oh, just peachy. Bored out of my mind and sick of this damn room. I feel like I'm under house arrest."

I laughed, shaking my head at her dramatic antics. "Well, how about I break you out of here? Let's go to the garden, get some fresh air."

She gasped, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Wait, you can actually do that? And you're only telling me this now? I thought I was stuck in here forever, waiting to die of a heart complication or something."

My smile faltered, and I shot her a look. "Hey, don't even joke about that!"

Elizabeth just shrugged, but her grin was mischievous. I left the room, quickly fetching a wheelchair from down the hall. When I returned, I carefully helped her from the couch and into the chair.

"Ready for your jailbreak?" I teased, adjusting the footrests and making sure she was comfortable.

Elizabeth leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a twinkle in her eye. "You bet. Let's get the hell out of here."

I pushed Elizabeth's wheelchair out of the room and navigated us down the hallway, the sterile scent of the hospital fading as we headed toward the garden. Elizabeth glanced back at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Val, I want you to speed through the hallway," she said, wiggling her eyebrows like a kid planning a prank.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, pretty sure that's against hospital rules."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "Come on, do it for your favorite patient. Please!" She clasped her hands together, giving me her best puppy dog eyes.

I sighed, feeling my resolve weaken, but I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. "You only live once, right?" I muttered, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. I tightened my grip on the handles, and when the coast was clear, I took off down the hall.

Elizabeth let out a wild cheer, throwing her hands up as if she were on a rollercoaster. "Woooooo!" she hollered, her laughter echoing through the quiet corridor.

I couldn't stop laughing, adrenaline rushing through me as I pushed her faster, the wheels humming beneath us. Nurses and patients threw us disapproving looks, but I didn't care. For a brief moment, the hospital felt less like a place of sickness and more like a playground, with Elizabeth's laughter drowning out everything else.

The fun came to a screeching halt when I whipped around a corner and nearly collided with someone. "What the fuck!" a furious voice shrieked, echoing off the sterile walls.

My heart plummeted as I looked up, my body freezing in place. Standing directly in front of us was Prof. Montgomery, her expression twisted in disgust and something that bordered on outright hatred. It was as if the universe had dropped me into my worst nightmare. I could feel every ounce of blood drain from my face. Someone, please strike me down.

"Are you trying to kill my mother?" she snapped, her eyes darting to Elizabeth as she frantically checked her for any signs of harm. I blinked, my mouth going dry. "M-mother?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. Prof. Montgomery's gaze returned to me, cold and venomous, as if she was mentally calculating the best way to strangle me on the spot.

"Johanna," Elizabeth said with a sigh, her voice gentle yet firm, "don't be so rude." Prof. Montgomery's head snapped toward her mother, her features tight with barely restrained anger. "Rude? Mother, she could've hurt you, or worse, if she lost control!" She pointed an accusing finger at me before shaking her head in disbelief. "I think I've earned the right to be rude."

Wait, if Elizabeth is Prof. Montgomery's mother, then that means I'd been complaining about her daughter to her face. Oh no. What if Elizabeth told her everything I said? Every gripe, every snide comment—what if it all got back to her? The thought made my stomach churn. I really hope she didn't.

Elizabeth sighed, "Johanna, I'm the one who asked her to speed down the hallway. Don't be mad at her."

Prof. Montgomery rolled her eyes, her frustration palpable. "I don't care if you told her to do it, Mother. She should've taken responsibility and refused." Her eyes narrowed on me, sharp and unforgiving. My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn't help but feel trapped under her icy glare. Should I leave? Maybe it was best to just get out of here.

It was like she read my mind. "You can leave now," she snapped, her voice laced with irritation as she practically shoved me aside to grab the wheelchair handles, her movements sharp and aggressive. She maneuvered Elizabeth away from me as if she couldn't get her mother out of my presence fast enough.

Why do things like this keep happening to me whenever Prof. Montgomery is around? It's like fate is set on making her hate me more. Not that she even seems capable of liking anyone in the first place.

✿

Wednesday;

I found myself in my last lecture of the day with Lea beside me. The lecture hall was filled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic scratching of pens on paper. Prof. Martin was up front, passionately scribbling equations and diagrams across the whiteboard, his voice droning on about the intricacies of chemical bonding. I focused on my notes, highlighting anything that seemed remotely important, trying to keep up with his rapid explanations.

Lea, on the other hand, was a different story. She slumped in her chair, her head propped up on her hand, staring blankly ahead as if the very act of being present was draining the last of her willpower. She looked like she was seconds away from falling asleep, yawning so frequently that I lost count.

Just as I was about to tease her about her missing energy drink, she reached into her bag and pulled out a can of Monster with the kind of precision that made it clear this wasn't her first time sneaking caffeine in class. She popped it open and took a long sip, her eyes half-lidded with fatigue.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly, shaking my head at the sight of her. Typical Lea. I returned my attention to my notes, underlining and highlighting anything Prof. Martin emphasized, while Lea continued to fight her battle against boredom one sip at a time.

You're probably curious about how my last lecture with Prof. Montgomery went. Surprisingly, it wasn't a total disaster! Sure, she shot me her signature death glare when she swept into the lecture hall, her heels clicking sharply against the floor like a warning, but aside from that, it was smooth sailing. I made sure to keep my head down, my eyes glued to my notes, and my mouth firmly shut—I wasn't about to give her any reason to single me out.

Yesterday at the hospital, after visiting hours ended, I went back to Elizabeth's room to apologize for the hallway incident. She was sitting up in her bed, looking more amused than anything as I fumbled through my apology. Elizabeth waved it off, insisting that I had nothing to be sorry for and that if anyone needed to apologize, it was her daughter.

I couldn't help but ask if she'd mentioned my rant about her daughter to Prof. Montgomery. Elizabeth just chuckled, her eyes twinkling mischievously, and reassured me that she hadn't breathed a word of it. I let out a relieved sigh, grateful that my little vent session hadn't made it back to the professor.

At least there was one Montgomery who was on my side, and that's better than nothing.