12:00 am---Graveyard Shift. Dr. Mary LeSiye rubbed her eyes in annoyance at the time.

"Midnight already?" She thought to herself.

Of course, she didn't have time to dwell on that simple fact. She had places to go, people to tend to.

Dr. LeSiye was the head doctor at the Trauma Wing of the St. Francis Memorial Hospital, and her night had actually only begun. Her patients never stopped needing care, and she was the only doctor in her unit tonight.

Tired, sluggish nurses moped past her. It had been a long night for them. Here, nurses worked from 3-11pm usually, but tonight, everyone had stayed late. There had been many people admitted in the unit and there were not enough beds.

Dr. LeSiye began to walk down the hallway with a cup off coffee in her hand, when a nurse named Julie stopped her.

Julie's hair was freely flying from a bun and her baggy eyes were open with fear.

"Doctor!" She yelled, rushing up to LeSiye. "Car crash, straight from ER!" She puffed amidst tired gasps.

"Where?" Asked LeSiye, immediately snapping back to Earth.

"Room E109," she answered.

"Right….let's go!" Yelled LeSiye, taking off down the white hallway with Julie scuffling behind.

Within seconds, Dr. LeSiye barreled into room E109. Inside the white, sterilized room were three beds, occupied by three lumps that were people. One, a teenage boy on the right, was hooked up on oxygen, bandaged up in several bleeding places, and luckily for him, he was unconscious. Not too many people can bear the sight of blood, let alone it being on you. On the right was a woman in her forties with a face covered in several scratches and a head of hair that was matted with blood; otherwise, she was going to be fine. But unlike the boy on the left, she was wide awake and showing it.

"Ryan!" She yelled over the chatter of Dr. LeSiye and the nurses. "My son, Ryan…Where is he? I want to see my son!" She screamed as nurses ran to console her.

"Where is her son?" The Doctor asked.

Julie, who was talking to the head nurse, slowly pointed to the boy of twelve on the right who still hooked up to his respirator and now bleeding intensely under his bandaged wounds.

LeSiye looked up at the heart monitor. Ryan was barely surviving on a low heartbeat.

The woman on the right, whom the doctor presumed to be Ryan's mother, saw LeSiye peering into his bed, so she sat up and cried, "Please help him! Don't let him die!!! Let me see him!"

As if responding to his mother's cries, Ryan's eyes weakly fluttered, but they obviously had no idea where he was or what was going on. His large, brown eyes just stared at the ceiling.

Dr. LeSiye gasped when she realized that she recognized those eyes. They were the eyes of death. Eyes that knew that their life was short and hanging by a thread. Yes, these eyes were all too familiar to the doctor.