Medical Center
After saying goodbye to Meredith, the little cow who loves standing on her head (adorable, right? 🐮), Adam headed to the ER.
"Dr. Duncan," a nurse said, handing him a chart. "This patient's been here four times in three months. Something's up."
Adam glanced at it. The patient was a cute little girl, maybe five or six, with a pretty nasty gash on her leg. Yikes. 😬
"Call Child Protective Services and have a chat with her parents," Adam instructed, then walked over with the chart in hand. "Hey there, I'm Dr. Duncan."
"I'm Megan Cleaver," the girl piped up, brushing past her parents like a total pro. "It's not as bad as it looks, honest."
"She fell at the playground," her mom explained, gently stroking her head. "There was a ton of blood, and the cut's pretty deep."
"We know it looks awful," her dad added, a bit sheepishly. "She plays rough sometimes. Here's her full medical history, including before we got her."
"You're her foster parents?" Adam asked casually as he took the thicker file and flipped through it.
"Yeah," her mom said, stepping closer with a sincere look. "Megan's a great kid, just a little wild. We love her to bits."
"I believe you," Adam replied, giving them a quick glance and a nod. "Could you head to the nurses' station and let them photocopy these files? I'll check out Megan's leg in the meantime."
"Sure," her foster parents agreed with a helpless little shrug. They knew what Adam was getting at.
"Be right back, sweetie," her mom said.
"Okay," Megan replied, waving them off sweetly. But as soon as they were gone, she turned to Adam, her expression stubborn. "It's not what you think. They're the best parents I've ever had."
"Don't worry," Adam said with a knowing smile. "I believe you. This is just routine stuff—nothing to stress about. Now, let's stitch up that leg. You don't want an ugly scar, right?"
"Nope…" Megan blinked her big, pretty eyes at him. "You know what I'm worried about?"
"Of course," Adam said, grabbing the suture kit the nurse brought over. As he cleaned her wound, he grinned. "I've got two good friends. One's adopted a whole crew of kids like you, and the other's got just one. So I get how you feel. They both pour tons of love into those kids, but I know every kid dreams of a full family—one with parents who dote on them a little extra, yeah?"
Back at the orphanage, whenever someone came to adopt, all the kids would doll themselves up, staring hopefully with the brightest—and saddest—smiles, practically begging: Pick me, pick me! They're just little ones, but they've already learned the harsh rules of the world way too early.
"Fine," Megan said after studying him for a moment. She finally relaxed, flopping back on the bed with a little sigh.
"Huh?" Adam paused, noticing something. There were scars on the inside of her arm too. He gently pulled up her sleeve and frowned. "What's this?"
Her left arm had a four-inch gash, stapled shut with three literal staples—like from a stapler. 😳
"I did it myself," Megan said with a shrug, totally unbothered. "Didn't wanna come back to the hospital, so I handled it. No biggie."
"You don't feel pain?" Adam asked, his tone turning serious.
It looked painful to him, but Megan didn't even flinch. She'd just gone snap, snap, snap with a stapler on her own arm like it was nothing.
"Nope, not at all," she said, then beckoned him closer with a little wave. "C'mere."
Adam's lips twitched. That sounded weirdly awkward, but he leaned in anyway.
"I've got a superpower," she whispered in his ear, all mysterious-like. "I don't feel pain no matter how hard I get hit. Don't believe me? Punch me in the stomach—go for it!"
"You really don't feel anything?" Adam asked, obviously not about to punch her. He just needed to be sure.
"Not a bit!" Megan said proudly. "The kids at school didn't believe me either, but I let them try. They punched me 25 times—wore themselves out! Even used a baseball bat, and I still didn't feel a thing!"
"A baseball bat?" Adam's eyes widened as he pointed at her stomach. "They hit you there?"
"Yup!" she nodded, like it was the most normal thing ever.
Adam carefully lifted her shirt and froze. There were some serious bruises. "I'm taking you for a CT scan. Now."
He scooped her up and hightailed it to the CT room.
"Sorry, cutting the line!" he called out to the doctor and patient about to go in.
"Go ahead, Dr. Duncan," the other doctor said kindly, calming down the grumbling patient.
CT Room
"There's internal bleeding," Adam muttered, staring at the scan. He let out a relieved breath. "Good thing we caught it early."
If you know it's there, you can fix it. The real nightmare is when it goes unnoticed—like that train derailment case last time. The guy seemed fine, chatting and laughing on the phone with family, but he was bleeding out inside and slipped away quietly in the ER.
"Tell Megan's parents," Adam said to the nurse.
A minute later, they rushed in.
Adam pointed at the CT screen. "Megan's got internal bleeding. We need to operate right away. I'll take care of her other wounds during the surgery too."
"We didn't hit her, we swear," her parents said, looking helpless.
"I believe you," Adam said with a nod. "Megan's likely got congenital insensitivity to pain—a super rare genetic condition. It means she doesn't feel pain when she gets hurt."
"Oh my God!" her foster mom gasped, hand over her mouth. "That's why she plays so rough and keeps getting injured."
"Exactly," Adam said. "We'll need a gene test to confirm later, but right now, the priority is surgery to stop the bleeding… Wait, Megan, where are you going?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bolting for the door. He dashed after her.
"I don't want surgery!" Megan yelled, squirming. "It's too expensive! They can't afford it, and if you keep telling my foster parents I'm defective, they'll send me back!"
"They won't," Adam said softly, meeting her pleading eyes. Her words hit him hard. If he was right about her condition, it should've been caught when she was tiny. But from what she said, it was clear she'd bounced between homes. No foster family bothered to get her properly checked—once they suspected something was "off," they just dumped her back at the orphanage. That's why she'd never been diagnosed or protected.
"Sweetie!" Her foster mom ran over, tears streaming as she hugged her tight. "We'd never send you back. You're our daughter!"
"Exactly!" Her foster dad joined in, wrapping his arms around them both. "Don't worry, Daddy can pay for it. We're family—together forever."
Adam watched the scene with a warm smile. There are still good people in this world, after all. 😊
(End of Chapter)