I folded the last of my scrubs into the bag with a trembling hand, the fabric suddenly heavier than it had ever been. Maybe it was just me—maybe I was heavier. My body still moved like it had purpose, like I belonged here. But my heart? It was fractured in a thousand places, bleeding behind my ribs.

The feeling of failure weighed so heavily on me. Shame washed over me like I was really guilty, even though I knew I was not. The fear of the possible doom that roamed within. The fear of what was ...