It's New Year's Day, 1999.
I spent the day singing with Robin 🎤.
Gossiped a bit with Kate too 😏.
All in all, Adam had a pretty great day.
But the next day, January 2nd, things took a turn.
At the dical center, in the ergency room.
"Dr. Duncan!"
A nurse called out urgently.
"What's the situation?"
Adam rushed over, eting the paradics head-on.
"Catherine Horn, 36-year-old female, fell down the stairs. Blood pressure 70/50, pulse 45, possible brain hemorrhage, coma score 6. Hematoma on her left leg, lacerations on her right upper body and left thigh, and bruising on her back."
The paradic rattled off the details quickly.
"Falling down the stairs caused all this?"
Adam smirked, pushing the patient into the treatnt room while examining her.
"It hurts… so much…"
Catherine murmured unconsciously.
"She's unconscious, and her breathing's stopped!"
The nurse warned.
"7.0 endotracheal tube, now!"
"Catherine, can you hear ?"
"500 ml of saline!"
Adam barked orders while trying to revive her.
"Get the airbag!"
"Increase oxygen, dilute the CO2 levels!"
"Head swelling's getting worse. Undo her clothes—her abdon's rigid. Start irrigation."
"Order a CT and chest X-ray."
"Book an OR."
"Call Dr. Shepard."
Adam worked thodically, handling the crisis step by step.
"Has her family arrived?"
"Her two kids are here," the nurse said, glancing outside the treatnt room.
Through the glass, Adam saw a boy and a girl—likely siblings, both young.
"Take them to the family waiting area," Adam instructed. "Then call her husband or parents."
"Yes, Doctor," a nurse replied and left.
"Also, contact the Won and Children's Rights Agency," Adam added, scanning Catherine's injuries and her chart. He smirked again. "Three ER visits in the past six months. Fell down the steps, broke her arm—no scrapes. Bumped into a door and fractured her eye socket. Now she's fallen down the stairs again. She's really good at falling, huh?"
"Yes, Doctor," the nurse nodded, clearly agreeing.
Experienced dical staff could tell the difference between injuries from falls and injuries from abuse.
Catherine's body was covered in wounds.
This was 95% dostic violence.
Per protocol, Adam had to report it.
And that's exactly what he did.
After the CT and chest X-ray ca back, it was worse than expected.
This wasn't just dostic violence—it was attempted murder.
"She needs surgery imdiately."
Adam rushed her to the OR.
Dr. Shepard arrived, reviewed the scans, and agreed with Adam's diagnosis. After scrubbing in, they began the surgery together.
Catherine had brain and chest hemorrhages.
Adam handled the chest, while Dr. Shepard tackled the brain.
It took everything they had, but they managed to save her life.
After leaving the OR, Adam asked, "How's it going?"
He directed the question to "Know-It-All Nurse," one of the surgical nurses today.
"Soone from the Won and Children's Protection Agency is here," she said, her expression a bit odd. "But the investigation results… they're unexpected."
"It wasn't the husband?"
Adam looked at her, surprised.
"Nope."
Know-It-All Nurse explained, "It was her daughter, Mandy. Her brother, David, was the one who reported it."
"…What?"
Adam froze, almost thinking he'd misheard.
Catherine's daughter was only about ten years old—a little girl.
Erm… 😬
But then again, considering the kind of world this was, Adam cald down.
Nothing was impossible.
"Take to see them," Adam said, following Know-It-All Nurse.
Before even getting close, the mont Adam laid eyes on Mandy, he believed it.
It wasn't just the marks on her hands from hitting soone.
Her eyes—they were cold, filled with violence.
This was an incredibly dangerous little girl.
"Call a psychiatrist for them," Adam instructed.
"Already did," Know-It-All Nurse replied. "They're on their way down."
"Ugh…"
Adam sighed, starting to worry for David, Mandy's brother.
David had exposed the truth because he'd watched his mom get wheeled into surgery and overheard the nurses saying she almost didn't make it.
Out of fear of losing his mom, he overca his fear of his sister and spoke up.
Now the truth was out.
But Mandy clearly hated him for it. The look in her eyes was murderous.
And no, that wasn't an exaggeration.
If she could repeatedly beat her own mother—and nearly kill her this ti—Mandy definitely had serious psychological issues.
What's worse, so people are just born bad. Therapy and counseling? Useless.
David's familial ties to Mandy made it nearly impossible for him to escape her.
The best hope now was to have Mandy diagnosed with severe psychological problems and committed to a ntal hospital.
But even that wasn't foolproof.
Many psychiatric patients are paranoid.
Unless she was locked up for life, the mont she got out, she'd co after David for revenge.
And if Mandy was smart—which was even scarier—she could adapt quickly in the hospital, pretend to improve, and get released early.
"Dr. Duncan, David said Mandy used his baseball bat to hit their mom," Know-It-All Nurse said, noticing Adam spacing out.
"Hmm."
Adam nodded, wondering if he should step in.
After thinking it over, he decided to wait and see.
If things got really bad, he'd quietly help David and his family disappear—leave town, change their identities, start fresh sowhere else.
Sowhere Mandy couldn't find them.
After all, these were lives at stake.
If he could save them, he would.
It'd only cost him a little effort.
With that decision made, Adam turned to leave.
Since he'd chosen to help, he needed to stay low-key.
Better not to linger around Mandy and draw her attention.
He wasn't afraid of her, but he didn't want to provoke her either.
No need for that.
"Doctor, I've been waiting 40 minutes," a seemingly harmless man approached.
"Where are you feeling unwell?"
Adam glanced at him, noticing police sirens at the ER entrance. "Sir, go find a nurse first."
The man didn't look injured, and he'd waited this long—probably nothing serious.
"Oh, okay."
The man nodded and turned to leave.
"Wait!"
Adam's jaw dropped, stopping him in his tracks. He wasn't rushing to the next ambulance anymore.
This guy clearly needed urgent care too.
Because there was an arrow sticking out of the back of his head.
"How did this happen?" Adam asked, examining him.
"The neighbor's kid was playing cowboys and Indians. I got unlucky and got shot by an Indian," the man said with a good-natured, self-deprecating smile.
"Co with , quick."
Adam pulled him into the treatnt room.
This guy had so nerve—walking around with an arrow in his head and casually waiting 40 minutes.
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