Page 4 of Broken Dream (Steel Legends #3)

Chapter Three

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.

Now I feel like he’s telling me to get the hell out.

I don’t look away.

No way will I let him scare me out of medical school.

He clears his throat. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about what we’re dealing with here.

Anatomy isn’t just about knowing what’s where.

It’s also about understanding how everything works together.

As we progress, we’ll look at how diseases affect these systems. You’re going to see firsthand how a lifetime of heavy smoking ravages the lungs, or how cirrhosis changes the liver.

You’re going to see the effects of untreated diabetes on the eyes, kidneys, and blood vessels.

You’re going to see what heart disease does to the arteries. ”

I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp smell of formaldehyde that seems to be embedded in my sinuses now. I glance over at Tabitha. Excitement is evident in her wide eyes.

Eli looks like he can’t wait to get his hands dirty. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists, his knuckles white against his fair skin.

“This is a serious undertaking,” Jason continues.

“We’re not just studying anatomy. We’re studying the history of a person’s life, their choices, their circumstances, everything that led them to this moment.

Our cadavers were not just specimens but human beings who lived, had experiences, felt joy and pain. ”

With those words, I feel like Jason is speaking directly to me.

More than that, I feel his eyes trained on me, as if the emerald-green fire is burning two holes in my flesh.

My nipples are hard, and I don’t dare look down because my unlined bra is going to show them protruding through my T-shirt.

He’s right.

These are people.

Like I said to Tabitha in the beginning. What if we recognize someone?

She’s right, of course. The bodies will be unrecognizable.

“I see how excited some of you are, how ready you are to cut. But something you need to learn—I’m talking to all of you, not just our future surgeons—is that you can’t ever cut into a human being without thinking things through first.”

“But these are dead people,” Elijah says without raising his hand.

“Let me open up to you guys a bit.” Jason rakes his fingers through his gorgeous black hair. “This is my first time teaching anatomy lab.”

I can’t help my surprise. Jason seems so sure of himself, so exact in what he says, how he wants to make us feel about these cadavers who donated their bodies to science.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m telling you that.

Some of you may be thinking, Oh great, a new guy.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing . Or some of you may be thinking, Great, a new guy.

An easy A . Let me assure you that whatever you’re thinking about me, you don’t know the whole story.

Let me tell you this…” He begins to pace across the front of the lab.

“When I became an attending general surgeon years ago, I made many mistakes. All young surgeons have by the time they complete their residency.” He stops pacing and gazes out the window.

“At some point, and sooner than you may expect, you will take a life. You won’t do it on purpose, of course, but one day, a mistake you make will take the life of another human being.

” He returns his gaze to a now silent class.

“You will have to live with that. You will have to learn from that. And you will have to move forward from that. You’ll carry that weight with you every time you walk into an operating room, every time you pick up a scalpel. ”

A hush falls over the room.

“But remember,” Jason continues, softening his tone, “at the end of the day, you are human beings trying your best to save lives. It’s called the practice of medicine for a reason.

You will never be perfect. Yes, there will be losses.

But do not let them define you. Learn from them, and seek comfort in your victories. ”

He looks around the room, his gaze landing on each student before moving on to the next.

“As for me,” Jason adds, “I still feel the weight of my mistakes. They’re a part of me now, as much as my training and my skill.

But they made me better, and I hope they will make me a good teacher.

” He turns away to reach for something on his desk.

When he turns back, he’s holding a small box.

“This,” he says, “is one of the most important lessons you will learn here.”

He opens the box for us to see. Inside sits a scalpel.

He holds it up to the light. “This isn’t just a scalpel. This is your connection to another person’s life. It’s a symbol of trust and responsibility, an instrument that you must wield with careful precision and utmost respect.”

He walks around the room, allowing each of us to catch a glimpse of the scalpel gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

I glance at Tabitha and then over my shoulder at Eli. They both look enthralled by Jason’s words and the object in his hand. As Jason walks by Eli’s desk, Eli reaches out, nearly touching it before thinking better of it and retracting his hand. Jason gives him a nod before moving on.

“Every incision you make,” Jason continues when he returns to the front of the room, “is a life changed. Every stitch you sew is a wound healed. And every mistake you make… Well, we’ve already talked about that.”

Jason places the scalpel back into its box and sets it onto his desk with a click.

He turns back to face us. “But remember,” he says, “you’re not alone in this journey.

You have each other to learn from, to support, and to challenge.

You have your teachers, who are here to guide you, and we have the memory of every patient we’ve lost who has pushed us to be better. ”

A beat of silence passes before he continues.

“Tomorrow, we will begin our first dissection. It’ll be a test of your knowledge and your skills, but most importantly it will be a test of your character.

” He pauses once more, his words hanging in the air.

“I want each of you to take time tonight to reflect on why you chose this path. Remember that passion when things get tough. Remember the responsibility that comes with each decision you make.”

He turns back toward his desk and begins shuffling papers around, signaling the end of the lecture. As students start filing out of the room, I feel a strong urge to stay back, to talk to Jason, to understand more. I observe as Eli and Tabitha leave and disappear into the hallway.

The room is almost empty when Jason finally looks up from his task, surprise visible in his eyes. “Still here?” he asks with a small smile.

“Yes,” I answer, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I just…”

God, Angie, get a grip.

I clear my throat. “Your words really struck a chord with me.”

It’s not a lie. Jason has a respect for the learning of anatomy that I find…interesting. I never wanted to dissect a cadaver, but now I’m rethinking that stance.

Not like I have a choice if I want to get through med school anyway.

Jason’s smile widens a fraction before he moves away from his desk and leans against it casually, crossing his arms.

“Medicine isn’t easy,” he says, “and I won’t lie to you or sugarcoat it. It’s going to test you in ways you can’t even imagine.” He gives me a sarcastic laugh. “Even those of you who choose never to wield a scalpel. Even psychiatrists.”