Connie stood motionless. She was sinking. Every second that passed, shown by the clock on the wall, buried her deeper. The constant ticking sounded loudly in her ears. The finality of the moment hung in the very air around them. Her features morphed from desperation and alarm into a familiar expressionless stare. She stepped back from the bed.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder she didn't move, Charlie stood by her side. He said nothing. There was nothing to be said. Ripping off her gloves with more force than intended, Connie let them fall to her feet. She marched out of resus towards her office. She was spiralling. Black spots appeared in her field of vision, she tried to draw breath but her throat was closing. The office door slammed shut behind her. She fell into her chair, the strength in her legs failing, and turned away from the door.

The next hour passed her by. She remained still, a tumult of emotions whirling around inside she knew she was unable to articulate.

Rita positioned herself at the Nurse's station so she was able to see the outline of the figure in the office. She hadn't moved, it had been almost an hour. Rita sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The emergency case they had rushed into resus was that of an 11-year old girl. She had been involved in a high speed RTC, her injuries were extensive and she flatlined before they could do any assessment. Connie performed CPR but to no avail. She died at 12:45pm, exactly an hour ago. Rita had watched on as all traces of emotion melted from Connie's face. It wasn't until she had marched out, that Rita had realised why.

Charlie went about tidying up the young girl. He tucked her up underneath her hospital blanket, removing wires and tubes. Rita reached up and switched off the monitor, Connie's robotic declaration of time of death still ringing in her ears. Charlie read Rita's frowned expression, he sighed deeply as he arranged the girls hair on the pillow giving the impression she was only asleep.

He closed her eyes slowly.

"She's the same age as Grace," he said simply.

Of course, it made sense. Her long brunette hair trailed off the pillow. Rita nodded stiffly and left resus. For the last hour she had been sitting in front of a blank computer screen watching Connie sit in her office, unmoving.

Rita glanced over at cubicles. Charlie was busy with another patient, chuckling away as if they had not just witnessed the life of a young girl extinguished. That is how he dealt with it, that is how he had to deal with it in order to carry on. Seeing he was busy, Rita got off her seat and walked into the staffroom. Charlie usually did this when someone had a rough shift, so now she would. Rita flicked on the kettle and spooned out some coffee into a mug. She poured out the boiling water, steam rising into her face.

Milk or no milk? What did Connie take? She poured only a small amount in.

Rita walked slowly towards the office door. It felt very much like heading into the lion's den. She had always felt a rush when being called into Connie's office, or even just walking past it. Similar to the feeling you got when walking into the Headmistress's office, trepidation mixed with rebelliousness. But this time she felt nothing.

Rita knocked softly. Connie moved for the first time, shifting in surprise as if Rita had roused her from her all-consuming thoughts. Holding her breath, Rita opened the door gradually. She walked softly across the room and placed the mug of coffee on the desk. Connie didn't make eye contact. Rita was now close enough to notice tear tracks running down her cheeks. She swallowed hard.

"I...erm. I didn't know if you took milk so I only put a bit in." She broke the silence.

Connie inhaled deeply, her eyes closed, as if every fibre of her being was straining to keep it together. To keep everything in that was threatening to spill over. She exhaled slowly.

"She was far too young. She didn't deserve any of it."

The words tumbled out. More tears escaped.

Rita took a careful step forward.

"No. No she didn't." She paused. "It hurts doesn't it. It hurts right there." Rita placed a hand on her chest. She could feel her own rapid heartbeat.

Connie observed her movements. She nodded silently.

"A medical phenomenon. The ability of grief and loss to cause us actual physical pain."

Rita half-smiled. "Feeling like that doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

Connie lent back in her chair wiping her eyes. Rita turned to leave, her hand on the door handle.

"Rita?"

She turned back to face Connie who nodded towards the mug.

"Thank you."