The silence after the IV pump finishes is the loudest sound in the world. Rocky's asleep, breathing steady for now. The night nurse gave me that look again—the one that’s half pity, half 'single mom with a badge must be lonely.' She’s not wrong. My cunt aches with a hollow, restless need that has nothing to do with her and everything to do with the sterile, fluorescent purgatory of this place.

I don't want gentle. I want to be pinned against the meds cart by someone who smells like sweat and street fights. I want their fingers in my mouth, their cock buried to the hilt in my ass while I stare at the fucking heart monitor, daring it to spike. I want to be fucked so thoroughly I forget the number on the latest bill, the weight of the evidence bag in my locker, the phantom scent of my ex-husband's cowardice.

It's a specific kind of hunger, born from fluorescent lights and beeping machines. The kind where you crave the taste of someone else's skin more than sleep, where you want to be used until the only pain you feel is the good, clean, physical kind.

Maybe after shift. Find a regular from the ring. Let them win a round. The price of a loss is always negotiable, and sometimes the currency isn't cash.

#Huskypack #LFPD #HospitalVigil (Mood: restless)