the pitt
doctors fathers and panic attacks
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had always been on edge, no matter how calm everything seemed to be. It lived under their skin, a constant hum of readiness, like a storm that never quite passed. Years of parents who promised and failed, of siblings slowly unraveling, had trained it into them. Calm was never safe. Quiet was just the pause before something broke.
They escaped eventually. Ran at eighteen with nothing but stubborn hope and a chipped sense of self, and never looked back. Medical school was hell, but it was their hell—earned, controlled. They survived on caffeine and grit, and when they made it through, they proved everyone wrong. Built a life with their own two hands. No one could take that from them.
Joining the Pitt felt like a fresh start. The chaos made sense here. The people did too. Michael’s dry humor, Jack’s steady presence, Dana’s sharp eyes that missed nothing. fit. For the first time, they belonged.
Until the ambulance doors flew open.
The scream hit first—raw, animal. Then the smell. Then the voice.
Their father.
High. Furious. Spitting venom at no one and everyone, thrashing against the restraints as Michael and Jack rushed the gurney inside. The world tilted. The floor felt miles away. Suddenly wasn’t grown, wasn’t capable, wasn’t a doctor. They were small again, frozen in a hallway that smelled like old beer and disappointment.
They couldn’t move.
Dana noticed instantly. She was at ’s side before the panic fully bloomed, hands up, voice low.
Hey. Hey, you’re here. Look at me.But couldn’t. Their chest locked tight, air refusing to cooperate. They stumbled back, heart hammering, vision tunneling as the past slammed into the present.