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It was all Trinity's fault.
Tiny pinpricks of pain erupted along her spine as her back hit the wall with force. She barely had time to catch her breath before Yolanda's mouth met hers, warm and wet and angry. Hands traveling up Trinity's sides, finding their way under her shirt. Skin on skin, the sensation familiar and awful as always.
“You like that?” Yolanda prompted between kisses.
“Like what?” Trinity pushed back against Yolanda, pushing her away. Yolanda got the hint, pushing Trinity back with more force. Hands gripping tighter, until it got painful, until Trinity could breathe again. She laughed.
“Always trouble with you.” Yolanda was smiling now, showing off her teeth. Trinity wanted them imprinted on her skin. On the inside of her upper thigh, along all those other marks.
“Please, I’ve barely started.” That earned Trinity a shove, hard enough to have her fall backwards onto the bed.
“Then maybe it’s time to stop.”
Trinity had another smart reply on her lips, but Yolandas had wrapped around her throat.
There was barely any pressure. Just enough for Trinity's mind to go quiet.
“Not so brave now, are we?” Yolanda asked, her tone mocking. Trinity blinked up at her, feeling numb. “How about this? You use your smart mouth for something that’s actually useful, and after that, if I’m feeling generous, you might get to cum. What do you say?”
Trinity tried to nod against Yolanda's hand. It earned her a cruel laugh. “Yes? Is that a yes? I can’t quite hear you. Speak up.”
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
“Then take a deep breath.”
For a moment, Yolanda's hand is gone. Trinity knows what comes next. Yolanda places her knees on each side of Trinity's face, holding on to the bed frame for support as she lowers herself. Soon Trinity is trapped by the warm, familiar weight of Yolanda's body. It allows her to relax the same way a hand on her throat does. The assurance that whatever is going on isn’t her choice, not her fault. All she has to do - all she can do right now - is focus on making Yolanda feel good. It’s almost meditative, working her tongue over Yolanda's clitoris and listening to the moans it produces.
There is wetness building between her own legs. Desire. An almost-yealousy as she listens to Yolanda receive the pleasure her own body is craving.
Desperation.
Need.
Trinity can hold on to those feelings, like she’s holding on to Yolanda's thighs.
“Yes. Right there. Higher. A bit to the left. Other left. Yes. Oh my god, yes, just like that, keep going.” Yolanda's voice is breathless. Trinity's own legs are pressed together in helpless search for friction. She tries to keep her focus on Yolanda, on the repetitive motions of her own tongue. Her own desire fades to a dull ache in the background, almost like a fresh cut.
Trinity can barely breathe, because her nose is buried in Yolanda's pubic hair and her mouth is buried in Yolanda's folds, but at the same time her chest feels lighter than it did all day. Whatever air she can suck into her lungs comes easy. Her body feels like her own. Even her thoughts, the never-stilling currents of fear and anger and hurt and grief have come to a still. It all fades away into this moment.
“Oh- yes. That’s it, Trin. Okay, you can- you can stop now.” Above Trinity, Yolanda is relaxed now. She lifts herself higher, off Trinity's face, and climbs lower to sit at Trinity's side. “Hi there”, she says, wiping some of the accumulated liquid of Trinity's chin. “You okay?”
“Sure. You?” The words come out automatically.
“Oh I’m great. Want me to get you off now?”
It’s not a bad question to ask. It sours in Trinity's brain.
It was not Yolanda's fault, she knew that. Trinity hadn’t even used the word bdsm around her, afraid it might be enough for Yolanda to figure out what exactly Trinity was actually asking her to do.
Want me to get you off? It should be easy to answer, but right now Trinity simply didn’t want to have to want. She wanted to stay as she was right now, her mind a calm sea for Yolanda to sail on. But she couldn’t actually-
If she told Yolanda that, and Yolanda made a decision, and it turned out to be the wrong decision-
Trinity knew that her own mind wasn’t a thing easily tamed. There was some part of her brain that was awfully reactive, and it turned Trinity into a person she didn’t want to be. And she couldn’t risk Yolanda getting to see that part of her - couldn’t risk that part of her brain deciding that Yolanda wasn’t safe anymore. And she didn’t know-
“It’s fine. I think I’m going to shower.” Trinity forced herself to look at Yolanda as she said it. She wasn’t a natural liar, but this one came with practice.
I don’t need anything or anybody. Nobody can hurt me.
Was it her who started telling that lie, or her parents?
Don’t lie, Trin, he wouldn’t do something like that.
“Are you sure?” Yolanda's eyebrows were raised, an expression that wasn’t exactly disappointment but still felt like it to Trinity.
“Totally. No offense, but I almost fell asleep while you were on top of me.”
“How dare you.” Yolanda slapped Trinity's side. Trinity stuck out her tongue in response.
“See you in a bit. Ramen and a movie after?” She pushed herself off the bed.
“Mhm, you know how to treat a lady right. Don’t use up all the hot water.”
“Or what?”
“Maybe I’ll spank you next time.”
“Oh, no, what a threat.” Trinity made a show of her fake-fear. They both knew that Trinity would like that. She always liked the pain, the sting. Fingernails dragging down her back. A flat hand landing hard on the side of her face. Hair being pulled, teeth burrowing into skin, hot wax, the edge of a knife - they hadn’t gotten that far, but maybe one day.
But when the bathroom door closed behind her, Trinity didn’t feel excited about the idea of Yolanda spanking her. Instead there was an embarrassing, hollow feeling about the fact that Yolanda wasn’t actually going to punish her.
It was fucked up. Trinity knew that. Not that she liked the idea of being punished. Unlike Yolanda, Trinity had spent a lot of time learning about kink and bdsm and anything that came along with it. The obsession had started in her late teens, when she and Sophie would take turns hooking up with older men they met online, the other one always on call to intervene if things went wrong. It had been wildly dangerous, but at the time it had felt like taking back power.
After Sophie's death, it had taken Trinity years before she could stomach even the idea of sex. She had wanted it, craved it even more because of how impossible it felt, and started reading about all the different ways a person could have sex. And from that she’d slowly figured out how she could have sex.
That was the part where it got embarrassing. Trinity had read about kink and bdsm and she had some understanding of what a healthy bdsm-relationship would look like. She also knew that she absolutely couldn’t do that. She had borrowed parts of it. Mostly the pain, the lack of control. The moment she felt too comfortable, she was suddenly thirteen again, lured into compliance by gentle hands and sweet words. The moment she felt like she had a choice she froze, feeling like she should be doing something to stop this, even if she wanted it, because a part of her would always be that thirteen year old girl who didn’t know that she was supposed to say no.
But there were other things that were supposed to happen in a healthy bdsm-dynamic. Like open communication. After-care. Established roles and boundaries and safe-words and all that stuff intended for people who weren’t fucked up in the head.
Maybe, in another world, Trinity wouldn’t shower alone after sex. Maybe in another world she would be curled up on Yolanda's lap, being told how good she had been. But in this world, even if Yolanda were the kind of person who liked that sort of thing, Trinity already knew what would happen. She would slap Yolanda's hand away, she would snarl and curse and push, and then Yolanda would decide Trinity wasn’t worth the work after all, and then she’d be even more alone than she was now.
Trinity avoided looking at the mirror as she climbed into the shower, feeling the spray of too hot water on her skin. The tears came easily, quiet sobs drowned out by the sound of running water. She was shaking ever so slightly, arms wrapping tightly around her torsor in a helpless attempt to hold herself together. Like always she ended up sitting on the showers floor, knees drawn up to her nose, breath quick and shallow. She allowed the terrible hollow feeling to consume her. The painfull yearning for somebody else to hold her together for a while.
It didn’t last long. A few minutes, and she started pulling herself together. Clean herself up. Turn off the water. Dry herself. Hide her body in a too-big shirt and loose pants, because she couldn’t stand to see herself right now.
“Shower’s free!” she called to Yolanda while making her way to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but the hollow feeling always left her with a desire for food. She didn’t even notice herself checking the calorie-lable on the side until the number was added to the running estimation of calories consumed today she kept in her head. It wasn’t intentional. She wasn’t even trying to lose weight. It was just something that seemed to appear whenever she was stressed. She hadn’t even noticed the old habit coming back. It was concerning. There was probably something she should do about it, but she didn’t know what. So she just made the food, picked out a movie, let herself be warmed by the broth.
“So how about next weekend?” Trinity asks when Yolanda returns.
“Don’t know yet. I have a date on Saturday. If it turns out shit, I might come over after. Sound good?”
“Perfect.” Trinity’s mouth is dry. It feels like there is something stuck in her chest.
“Dr. Santos.” The slight raise in Dr. Al-Hashimi's voice jerks Trinity back into alertness. Dr. Al-Hashimi never raised her voice. It was unnerving, to the point that Trinity had started to wonder if the woman might be a robot. Apparently not.
“What?” she asks.
“I asked you a question.”
“What question?”
Dr. Al-Hashimi's expression stays unchanged at that. She should be annoyed, shouldn’t she? She probably is. Trinity hates the woman for her perfect fassade, because it means Trinity is left guessing.
“Your treatment-plan for Mr. Marcello.”
“Right.” Trinity rattles down the plan as quickly as possible, definitely not the way a good resident should when talking to their attending. Dr. Al-Hashimi just nods along.
“Good. Do that. Come talk to me when the results are back.”
Trinity waits until the attending is walking away to let her head drop onto the desk. She’s aware, in some distant way, that she isn’t doing well. Usually the hollow feeling after hooking up with Yolanda fades over the night, but it’s two days later and Trinity still doesn’t feel like herself. She didn’t really sleep last night, just drifting in and out of consciousness without any feelings of rest.
Date.
The word is swirling around in her head and under her skin, hot and itchy. It was Trinity who had laid out the terms of what they were - not a relationship, just casual sex. Easy and fun, no emotions attached. But of course there are emotions attached, because Yolanda is the first person ever since-
Yolanda is the first person Trinity has had regular consensual sex with. It’s not a relationship, because Trinity knows she isn’t capable of that, not yet at least. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it. That she hasn’t imagined a future where maybe she could lay her head in Yolanda's lap and feel safe. But of course Yolanda wouldn’t want that, not with Trinity. So she is moving on, and that is all right, that’s fair, it’s better that way. But it’s also the last shred of security Trinity has to hold onto right now.
There is the soft thud of a to-go cup being placed on the desk. Trinity looks up to Dr. Al-Hashimi. Then to the cup of coffee between them.
“I don’t usually encourage the reliance on caffeine to get through the day, but it seems like you could use it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Trinity is somewhat aware that her defensiveness is misplaced. But she can’t help it.
“It was supposed to be a friendly gesture”, Dr. Al-Hashimi says, still perfectly calm. “You are under no obligation to accept it.”
“Well. I don’t.”
“Then I suggest you get back to work. There are patients needing to be treated, and you’re behind on your charting again.”
“Can’t you cut it with the fucking charting for five minutes!” That has to cross the line. There is a strange satisfaction in that, knowing that even the perfectly composed Dr. Al-Hashimi has a breaking point, that there’s nothing in Trinity's life she can’t destroy. There was never a chance for her and Yolanda, because Trinity Santos is nothing but sharp edges that cut into anybody who dares to get too close. She knew it, she was right, she was always right and it’s not her fault for not trying hard enough.
“Dr. Santos.” Dr. Al-Hashimi's voice could cut through metal. “I think we should have a talk. Follow me.”
The satisfaction is gone as quickly as it came. Yes, Trinity is all sharp edges. Yes, things between her and Yolanda were inevitably going to fail, because Trinity is simply too broken to be wanted. This isn’t a good thing. Trinity is about to get fired because she can’t even pretend to be a functioning human anymore, and she can’t do anything about it and it’s all her fault.
She follows Dr. Al-Hashimi numbly, feeling the eyes of her coworkers on her. They go upstairs, to the management floor. Trinity is about to get fired. They reach an unassuming door. Its name-plate has been covered with a sheet of printed paper.
Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi
Temporary chief of the ER
The room she follows in is small, with only the bare necessities of furniture. A desk. Two chairs. One window. One shelf. In the corner, a stack of boxes labeled Dr. Robbinavitch.
This used to be Dr. Robby's office. Would be again, once he returned. Dr. Robby wouldn’t fire Trinity for snapping like this. Dr. Robby would understand, because he was almost as messed up as Trinity herself. He understood that her being fundamentally broken as a person didn’t mean she couldn’t be a good doctor.
“I’m a good doctor”, she said out loud.
Dr. Al-Hashimi, who had moved to the other side of the desk but not sat down yet, looked at her with mild surprise. “I agree.”
Trinity looks at her, unsure of what to do next. “Please don’t fire me.”
“I’m not firing you for snapping at me once. If anything at all, this would lead to a write-up and a conversation with HR. But I’d like to avoid that.”
Trinity swallows, something hard in her throat hindering the motion. “So what now?”
“Would you sit, please?” Dr. Al-Hashimi asks, motioning to the chair.
“Why?”
“Because I would like to have a longer conversation, and I assume sitting would be more comfortable.”
Trinity feels like she should protest, but there’s not much she can say against that. She sits.
“Good.” Dr. Al-Hashimi follows her example, sitting down across from her. There’s a table between them. The door behind Trinity, a perfect escape-route in case… of what, exactly? Trinity can tell that she is terrified, but she isn’t sure why. This is Dr. Al-Hashimi, after all. Unreadable. Probably hates Trinity. But also unfailingly professional and by the book. She’s not going to try to hurt Trinity. Right?
“Dr. Santos.” The sound of her name brings Trinity back into the moment. She finds Dr. Al-Hashimi looking at her. “We’ve already established that you are a good doctor. That being said, today you are not acting in a way that is acceptable in the work-place. This is not usual for you, my assumption is that there is something going on.”
“I’m just having a bad day, okay? No need to make a big deal about it.”
“It is a big deal”, Dr. Al-Hashimi interrupts. Her tone of voice isn’t exactly harsh, but it’s stern enough that it leaves Trinity feeling cold inside. “If you’re not able to perform to the best of your ability, that is a danger to the patients you are treating.”
“Well what am I supposed to do about that? It’s not like I’m doing a bad job on purpose!” Trinity's voice sounds too loud in the small space, her arms moving too much as she gestures to nothing.
For a moment it seems like Dr. Al-Hashimi is about to say something. Maybe something harsh. Maybe the reprimand Trinity deserves. But then she just lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “Doctor Santos. The way I see it, there are two options on how to proceed. Either you tell me what the issue is and we look for a solution, or you take the rest of the day off and do whatever it is you need to do so you can return to work as the capable doctor I know you are.”
“Please don’t send me home.” The answer comes out against Trinity's will. Because her home is empty. And she will be alone. And she can’t be alone right now, not when she’s unraveling like this.
She thinks of Sophie and the pills. She thinks about the knives in her kitchen drawer. She thinks about human anatomy and about all the ways a person can die.
“Trinity.”
Trinity's breath catches at the sound of her first name. Her eyes focus on Dr. Al-Hashimi. Her expression did change, for once. There’s something awfully soft there, something that makes Trinity want to snarl and snap and bite.
“I’m fine.” It’s not convincing. Trinity knows it. She was never a natural liar and she doesn’t have it in her to pretend. Everything feels raw and exposed.
“Tell me what’s going on.” Dr. Al-Hashimi's tone is soft. Trinity hates her.
“There’s nothing going on! Everything is fine, okay? I’m fine!” Trinity is fully screaming now. She wants Dr. Al-Hashimi angry, but the woman's expression is unchanged. “Stop looking at me like that!”
Dr. Al-Hashimi doesn’t respond. She leans back slightly, angling her head as she regards Trinity.
“What?” Trinity askes. “What are you looking for? What do you expect me to say? You think I’m just some problem you can optimize away? Add some AI-Software, some new protocol, what’s your plan? You can’t fix me.” With the last words, Trinity feels the energy drain out of her. Because that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? There isn’t a problem to fix, aside from those inside her own head. There’s no easy fix for that.
“Are you done?” Dr. Al-Hashimi asks. Trinity just shrugs, drawing into herself in the uncomfortable chair. “Can you tell me what is making you so upset today?”
“Nothing”, Trinity answers. She expects Dr. Al-Hashimi to press, to call out the lie. Instead silence fills the room. “Relationship-problems, I guess.”
“You are seeing somebody?”
“No.”
“I see.”
Again silence fills the room as Trinity fidgets in her seat. “It’s not like- I’m not breaking down because somebody rejected me or anything. It’s not really the main issue. It’s just… I guess I had something with somebody that helped… regulate me. But that might be ending now. And I haven’t really found a substitute.” Trinity doesn’t really want to look at Dr. Al-Hashimi as she explains, but she can’t not look. So she glances up, every now and then, to check for a reaction. There’s not much reaction to be found.
“Do you have an idea what might be a good substitute?” Dr. Al-Hashimi asks.
“Not really. I didn’t realise how much I relied on it until…” Trinity makes a vague gesture.
“Okay.” Dr. Al-Hashimi breathes the word. There’s a shift in her posture. “Can I be forward for a second?”
Trinity shrugs. “I guess.”
“I assume what we are talking about is an arrangement of a sexual nature?”
Great. Now she’s talking about her sex-life with her boss. This day can not get worse. Trinity doesn’t look at her as she nods.
“As far as I’m aware, there are many options for people your age to… engage in that sort of thing. Tinder. That isn’t an option for you?”
Trinity wishes there were some judgement in Dr. Al-Hashimi's tone, but she’s just perfectly neutral. Nothing for Trinity to fight against now. “I’m kind of complicated when it comes to sex.”
“Can you elaborate on that?”
Trinity wants to punch something. “I… don’t really do well with normal sex. I need my partner to… get me out of my head?”
“Hm.”
Again there is this expecting quietness, but this time Trinity really doesn’t know how to fill it. How to even begin to explain the way her head works.
“Trinity, are you talking about bdsm?”
That has Trinity looking up. Her cheeks feel hot all of the sudden, her chest tight, the room too small. “I-” She chokes on her own words.
“I will take that as a yes.” While Trinity is dying of embarrassment, Dr. Al-Hashimi is perfectly calm. “If that is something you need to cope, I do have some friends in the scene. I’m sure finding a person who can give you what you need wouldn’t be impossible.”
“Yes it would be.” Trinity knew that she sounded like a stubborn child now, but Dr. Al-Hashimi just didn’t understand.
“Why?”
“Because.” Trinity had intended to end the conversation there. Dr. Al-Hashimi had made her point. Trinity would have to find some other way to cope. Maybe tinder. Whatever. She didn’t need help. But the silence lasted, and Dr. Al-Hashimi had her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “I don’t do good bdsm”, Trinity finally admitted.
“And what do you mean by that?” Dr. Al-Hashimi asked.
“You know, all the healthy stuff you’re supposed to do? Aftercare. Safe-words. Communication. I don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it freaks me out.” She shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. “I’m just not made to be nice to.”
“And what would happen? If you tried to do those things? Aftercare, safe-words, communication?”
Trinity made a vague gesture. “Something like this.”
“I see.” There was a pause. Dr. Al-Hashimi tapped against the desk rhythmically. Then she stopped. “Can you tell me what it is about the sex you are having that helps you to regulate? Is it the pain?”
“I- I guess not. It’s just… not having to think for a while. Not having to look out for anything, not having to… be in charge of myself.”
“Hm”, said Dr. Al-Hashimi. “Let’s try something.” With that she opened a drawer inside the desk, producing a colouring book and a set of coloured pencils. She flipped through the book until settling on a page, then turned it to face Trinity. She placed the pencils next to her. “I will go back to the ER. In forty minutes I will try to come back up here. I might not be able to make it in time, if there is an emergency, but once the forty minutes are over I will be looking for the next opportunity to check up on you. When I do, I want to find this page coloured in.”
Trinity stared at her attending. “What?”
“I think you understood me correctly.”
“You want me to colour in a mandala? Like I’m a child?”
“If you check the front page, you will find that this is an adult-colouring-book. Any other questions?”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Trinity opened her mouth to protest. Then she closed it again, because she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “This is stupid”, she finally decided.
“If you say so.”
“What happens if I don’t do it?”
“Then you don’t.”
“That’s stupid.”
“You mentioned. I will be back in forty minutes, or whenever the ED allows it. If you need anything while I’m gone, you can page me, or come find me.”
And then Trinity was alone in the office with a colouring book in front of her.
“This is stupid”, she repeated, talking to nobody in particular. She decided then that she was not going to do this. Whatever stupid game Dr. Al-Hashimi was playing, Trinity wouldn’t take part. But after a few minutes she got bored, and it wasn’t like she had anything against colouring.
After some time, she almost forgot where she was, or why she was doing it. She was focussed on picking colours, following patterns, getting it all neat. She was working on details when the door opened again. Instinctively Trinity covered the page with her hand.
“Looks like you made a lot of progress”, Dr. Al-Hashimi said. “May I see.”
“It’s not really finished.” Trinity wasn’t sure why she was defending herself. It was just a stupid colouring book. But her headspace had shifted from her earlier agitation into something… strange. She couldn’t really name it.
“That’s okay”, Dr. Al-Hashimi said gently. “We will treat it as concept-art.”
Trinity wanted to refuse still, but the silence grew longer and she moved her hand. “I was never good at art”, she said.
“I don’t think you can be bad at art.” Dr. Al-Hashimi spoke in a soft hum, leaning over Trinitys shoulder to look at the picture. So close Trinity could smell Dr. Al-Hashimis shampoo. It had to be expensive. “Do you like it?” she asked.
“Me?”
“It’s your picture. My opinion isn’t really important.”
Trinity looked at the picture. She had started adding some patterns on the side. “I like the colours”, she finally admitted.
“I like the colours too. I think you did a good job.”
That did… something. Trinity had the urge to press. You think? You really mean it? You’re just saying that. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to finish it now, or can we talk for a moment?”
“We already talked.”
“I know, but I don’t think you were in a good headspace earlier.” As she talked, Dr. Al-Hashimi walked around the table to sit down across from Trinity again.
“How do you know I’m better now?” Trinity moved to sit on her hands, kicking her feet lightly.
“You seem more relaxed. Am I wrong about that?”
Trinity didn’t look at Dr. Al-Hashimi as she answered, too exhausted to worry about interpreting her facial expressions. “I guess not.”
“So we can talk?”
“Fine.”
“Trinity, some of the things you told me earlier are very concerning. Not just to me as your attending, but also as somebody who is active in the bdsm-community. Doing kink without proper communication and at the very least a safe-word can end very badly. I know you know that, too.”
“So?” Trinity asked,. “It’s what works for me.”
“Sweetheart, I really don’t think it does. Look at how you were acting today. Whatever happened with that other person clearly made you very upset. That’s not good.”
“Well what else am I supposed to do?” Trinity shot back, finally looking up at the older woman again. She was surprised to find Dr. Al-Hashimi looking completely at ease.
“I actually have a suggestion, if you’re willing to hear it.”
In response, Trinity shrugged.
“If you ever feel the need to… be taken out of your head for a while, you can always come to me. We can negotiate the exact terms of this, what you would and wouldn’t be comfortable with, it can be strictly platonic.”
“It wouldn’t work”, Trinity said.
“What makes you think that?”
“I already told you, I’m too broken. I need…” she made a vague gesture, not sure how to explain it. “Pain.”
“I don’t think you do”, Dr. Al-Hashimi said calmly.
“Yes, I do.”
“How do you feel right now?”
Trinity thought for a moment. “Fine, I guess? Calm.”
“How does that compare to earlier?”
“So you’re saying your stupid colouring-book fixed me?” Trinity let out a huff, pulling up her hands to cross them in front of her chest. Across from her, Dr. Al-Hashimis eyebrows rose.
“Do you want to rephrase that?”
Trinity shifted. “Fine. Not stupid, then. But don’t actually want me to believe that colouring in a mandala can fix me?”
“No. But I think an hour where you don’t have to worry because you know somebody else is in charge helps you feel relaxed. And that doesn’t require pain, usually.”
“But”, said Trinity. “What if I want that?”
For some reason that brought a smile back on Dr. Al-Hashimis face. “Like I said, we can negotiate the exact terms of this dynamic at a later point.”
Despite her mistrust, dislike and sometimes hatred against the attending, Trinity was almost ready to say yes, simply because right now she felt more at ease than she had in a long time, and the idea of getting that again was hard to let go of. But there was one thing stopping her still. “Why would you want that?”
Dr. Al-Hashimi let out a sigh, her expression growing a bit sadder. “Do you want the really honest answer?”
Trinity nodded.
“I went into medicine because I wanted to help people. Really help them. Sometimes it works. Often it doesn’t. That’s… hard to cope with. So getting the occasional chance to enter a situation where I can give somebody what they need, it helps me feel less powerless against the greater injustices of the world. Does that make sense?”
Trinity thought about how she felt whenever there were children brought into the ER. That desperate need to protect them, because maybe if they were safe it would undo how unsafe Trinity herself had felt when she was little. She thought of offering Huckleberry a place to stay, because it had made the world feel a bit less awful to know that one person would have a safe place to stay now. It was hard to imagine the point of view flipped, because thinking of herself as somebody deserving of care seemed wrong. But she could follow the logic of it at least.
“I guess so.”
“Any other questions now?”
Trinity shook her head. Then, after a moment: “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Do you feel like you could go home and be safe?”
The idea made Trinity's stomach twist. She didn’t want to be alone, or left to her own devices, but it felt more sad than scary now. “I guess.”
“Then I want you to finish up the drawing here, and send me a picture of it once you’re done. After that you will go change into your street clothes and go home. You will text me once you are there. Then you will take a warm shower, change into something comfortable, and cook yourself a warm meal. It doesn’t have to be healthy, or fancy, but I want you to actually cook it yourself, not order something. Again, send me a picture of what you made. Once my shift is over, we can talk more. Does that sound like a good plan?”
Trinity thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. I really need to get back to the ED now, but you know how to reach me.”
Trinity nodded, feeling a bit numb and a bit floaty.
“Good girl.”