Author's Note: This is a little something that I did on a whim... Being an intern is very easily one of the hardest experiences to go through, and I wish that some things would stress that more. Being a doctor...it isn't making whiz bang diagnoses and flirting with sexy nurses. This...this is what it really is. I'm not a doctor, but some day I will be. I claim no first person expertise but I base this off of accounts from those I've known. Please, review. :)

Irwin didn't look up. Time of death, 3:13 Post Meridian. Cause of death... Why...why did they say it so slowly? The Rotation Nurse dragged on, her pendulous jaws shaking with each syllable. All of the words were blurred as he fought back the tightening of his throat. He tried to speak up but the only sound the small intern managed to make was a choking note that went sharp and broke soon after. The big woman finished and he opened the door quickly.

His eyes burned as the words echoed in his head. Cause of death... Time of death... They were a sick song in rhythm with his staggering footsteps. He had to get away from this. Don't they care? Don't they see that he died? Don't they care? His mind desperately grabbed the air for an answer that wasn't one that he didn't want to hear.

Irwin realized dimly that he was shaking but didn't care. His body tightened every few minutes in static convulsions of grief and shock. "He only had mononucleosis." He croaked, his voice wooden and hollow as he spoke to the air. The fact was, nobody in the hospital cared. They ignored him entirely. Nurses walked by him as he leaned against the wall, feeling sick as the events replayed in his head.

Maybe it was better that they didn't care. He knew that he would cry if anybody gave him sympathy---! No, he...he mustn't cry, he was an adult now. The tears welling up in his eyes were undeniable now and they were blurring his sight. He feared that if he started to cry, he wouldn't be able to stop.

Wade turned towards the closet next to him and opened the door without thinking. He was greeted by syringes and medications, all in little plastic bags. He wished he could just hide in one of those plastic bags and sit on a shelf. Anything was better than this.

He closed the door behind him and curled up into a ball on the frigid linoleum. He buried his face into his knees, muffling his sobbing wails. His face hurt but he didn't have the spirit to care. Everything that touched the icy floor was going numb, but he didn't notice. The hospital was so cold. The hospital was so cold. Maybe it was fitting.