TESSA
I could see Benjamin—Ben, as he had introduced himself and insisted we call him. He did look like Ben. His face was too open and eager, as though he wanted to be trusted without earning it.
And yet, every time his eyes slid toward me or, worse, toward Calla, I felt my chest constrict. There was something strange about the way he looked at us. It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t simple curiosity either. It was like he carried a memory in his stare, one that refused to stay buried.
I kept moving, brushing those thoughts aside. We had work to do.
Screening days were always long, and though my hands were sore and my back stiff from leaning over patients for hours, I was determined to push through.
At least everyone had been seen, and no one went untreated or unheard. That was my si
