Free Lincoln Hospital (Trauma #1) by Cassia Brightmore Page B

thought he heard her scream out, “Cian, I love you!” before there was a loud bang and everything went black.
    When he next opened his eyes, pain was his first realization.  Every molecule of his body was on fire.  An inferno of agony.  He tried to lift his hand and noticed there was a long white tube attached to it.  He recognized the ceiling of his bedroom and could see the feet of several different people as they moved around his room.  Sitting up, he blinked.
    “H—Hannah,” he croaked, his voice dry and rusty. The female paramedic that was currently injecting something into the IV in his arm, set her mouth in a grim line and didn’t answer him.  “Where is she?” he demanded, pushing more steel into his voice.
    “Mr. O’Reilly, you’ve suffered some major trauma to your head and we really need you to just lie still for now.”
    “Where the fuck is she?” he yelled, losing all patience.  Dread was starting to coil in his belly.  He replayed the last few moments before he passed out.  The second assailant coming in, being hit from behind once more, the loud bang...
    “Oh, God, no.  Please no.” Frantically his eyes scanned the room until they landed on a still form in the corner of the room covered with a white sheet.
    “NO!” he screamed, shoving to his feet, knocking the paramedic over as he raced to fall to his knees beside the body.  “Hannah, please no.  Please, please babe, no.” He pulled the sheet back and the agonized scream that wrenched from his body at the sight of his wife lying dead on their bedroom floor broke every heart in the room.  Gathering her in his arms, he buried his face in her hair and let the tears fall, not caring who heard or saw him.  His wife, his beautiful, perfect wife.  Dead.  And it was all his fault.
    “I love you, I love you.  I love you, Hannah. Fuck, no. Please no, baby.  Don’t leave me,” he whispered into her hair, rocking her body back and forth.
    “Mr. O’Reilly.  Mr. O’Reilly, we really need to get you to the hospital to be looked at.  That gash on your head is serious. The police need to—”
    “Get the fuck out. I’m a doctor.  I’m a fucking doctor.  Just get out and leave us alone.”  Deciding to give him a bit of time alone but still keep an eye on him, they backed off and left him to grieve in silence with his wife.
    Several hours later, he finally let them take her from him and in a daze was loaded in the ambulance and transferred to the hospital.  The next few weeks were a blur as he underwent a minor cosmetic surgery to repair the damage to his skull and went through the motions of planning a funeral service.  When John Reynolds found him standing alone at Hannah’s grave in the pitch black of night on the day of her burial, he did his best to coax him to come and stay with him for a few days.
    “Cian, please.  We just want to help you.  Tell me what we can do.”
    He raised his eyes to his long-time friend, eyes that were vacant of any emotion.  Looking back at the gravestone he mumbled a few words that Reynolds didn’t catch.
    “What?  I didn’t hear you.  What did you say?”
    “May 23rd,” he voiced the day Hannah had died.  Reynolds had a fleeting moment where he truly thought Cian had lost his mind.
    “May 23rd,” he repeated and then pinned John with a glare so fierce it nearly burned right through him. “You want to help, John?  Fine.  I have a plan.”
    May 23rd. The day that the last good part of him died and the monster within was born; ready to seek vengeance for all that he’d lost.
     

Present Day
     
    L IFE AS AN intern at Lincoln Hospital was starting to become more of a routine for Athena.  Each day brought in new cases and opportunities to end up in surgery.  The six of them assigned to Webster were starting to become like a close-knit little family, even Dick was becoming more like a human being and less like a walking asshat.  She was closest with Sabine and Clarence, the