001.
Life, in its simplest form, is an exercise in avoiding death…
The words of a cruel man, Ava Wei knew, but still true in a sense. Even so, they never seemed to matter to her—she saw and heard death every day—some could argue she almost sought it out, herself. With any hospital job, it had to be expected. She was no doctor or nurse, however—most of her time there spent confined to the front desk—checking in patients or taking urgent phone calls. Although not nearly as exciting as preforming open-heart surgery and the like, she found contentment and took pride in knowing she was at least helping others in some way, despite the often rude or abrasive treatment she received from frantic civilians.
Arriving promptly every morning at 6 am, taking her place behind her desk, Ava tended to those who’d been in the waiting room for who-knows how long, and today was no different.
“Alright, you’re all set! If you have any more questions or if the medication isn’t working, please don’t hesitate to call back,” she told the now-calmer sounding mother on the other line. “Okay, bye-bye.” Ava bid her goodbye just as a young boy and a woman she assumed was his mother came through the door. He was quiet, teary-eyed, and holding his own wrist protectively against his chest. Hanging up the now dead-tolling phone, she straightened up in her chair as the pair approached.
“Hello, my son fell and hurt his wrist. I don’t know if its broken or just sprained but he says he’s in a lot of pain,” the woman explained automatically, hurried in her speech and by Ava’s judgement, attempting not to cry in front of him. Though not the first time she’d seen such a case, her heart still ached at the sight.
“Yes, we’ll get that checked out right away—may I have the child’s name?” Ava inquired, turning to the old computer beside her, and resting her hands on the keyboard in preparation.
“Ben—Benjamin J. Laurence.” the woman answered, clarifying how to spell their last name moments after. Upon hearing the boy’s first name, Ava couldn’t help but crack a sad smile. It had been a while since she’d last met anyone with the title. No one as impactful on her life, at least. Shaking off the brief lapse in her focus, she returned her attention to the matter at hand.
“Thank you, fill out this form, and someone will be with you shortly,” Ava informed the mother, handing her a clipboard with a blank sheet and a pen tucked into the metal clamp at the top. Nodding somberly, the woman accepted the paperwork and escorted her injured son to a seat in the corner of the small, grey waiting room. Right as she went to go about locating the boy’s file, the numbing silence of the space around them was suddenly thrust into disarray by a disheveled young woman stumbling in through the doorway. Her silk evening gown was torn in various places, only one matching heel on her left foot and long, bleach-blonde hair that obscured her face almost entirely. Seconds later, a coworker from the ER arrived behind her—looking to be out of breath and secretly very annoyed. His name was Damion.
“Hey, Ava—I’m sorry, she wouldn’t stop asking for you and then she just took off running,” he informed her, leaning against the doorframe as he caught his breath.
Narrowing her eyes in concern, Ava stood up from her chair and made her way over cautiously to the possibly unstable newcomer.
“Ma’am are you alright?” she asked gently, lowering herself down to the stranger’s level so as to try to catch a glimpse of her face. Damion had said she’d been asking for her, after all. Taking in a deep intake of air, the woman threw her head up to look at Ava, but when her mess of unkempt hair fell away from her face, any explanation became unnecessary to the inquiring receptionist.
“Zoe?”
She’d know her twin sister’s face anywhere…