“Make sure nobody sees you..”, Amelia thought to herself. “Hood over your head, eyes down.”

She was always seen as ‘the other Doctor Shepherd’ in comparison to her brother, despite both being world-class neurosurgeons, and she hated it. She had always wanted to outshine him in the field, but when he passed away, all she felt was guilt, and regret, and grief.

She was trying to use her morbid sense of humor in order to cope on the outside, but on the inside, she was struggling. A lot. She had even considered taking oxycodone again after 1321 days of sobriety. She tried to appear stoic, but when Richard Webber asked to have coffee together so she could release some pent-up emotions, she burst out yelling that ‘her time was crucial in order to save people so that her patients’ families wouldn’t lose a loved one’. She yelled that she was ‘saving lives’, unlike the doctors who couldn’t save Derek. She broke down in anger and humiliation as Webber attempted to comfort her.

“Kid,-“ he started paternally

“Don’t call me kid..” Amelia sobbed, quickly walking away into one of the supply closets, not even noticing you, following her.