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2
Six months earlier.
How it all started…
Francesca
“Incoming G.S.W. to the chest. Estimated time of arrival—” nurse Headly said. “Two minutes. Be ready, Russo. You’re helping on this one.” She stared right at me.
Great.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t assisted on a gunshot wound before. But these people rarely fared all that well. Guns were unforgiving.
Bullets—even less so.
More than likely, this guy would come in barely clinging to life. And nothing we’d do would help the poor sucker out.
But this was a part of my job. Or at least that was what they told me when I started.
Basically, I got shifted around to where they needed me. Mostly to clean up or do other crap the nurses and doctors didn’t want to.
Which was fair enough.
I didn’t have years and years of extra education. All I’d done was some crappy eight-week course.
I nodded at nurse Headly and shut my mouth. I also found that was the best thing to do around my superiors.
Look down.
Shut up.
Don’t ask questions.
Those were the mottos I lived by in the hospital.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I carefully pulled it out. My sister had sent a message. I opened it to see her in a gorgeous white dress.
A wedding dress.
She didn’t even have a boyfriend. But that didn’t matter to Felicia.
Nope.
Her favorite pastime was trying on wedding dresses.
And trying to rope rich guys into dating her.
Except what they typically wanted from Felicia wasn’t a commitment.
But that didn’t stop my sister from giving them whatever the heck they wanted.
My twin sister had much different dreams than I did.
She always had.
For two people who shared the exact same DNA—you couldn’t find two completely different people. The fact that we were mirror images of each other meant absolutely nothing.
One of the residents gowned up and put on a mask and a face shield. Depending on where the patient had been hit, you never knew if he’d be spurting a geyser out of his chest when he arrived. I followed suit and protected myself, too.