You’re wheeled into the emergency room, the bright lights stinging your eyes, the beeping of monitors and the rush of nurses making everything feel surreal. Your chest feels tight, and your hands shake as they settle you onto the gurney.

Billie enters, his white coat crisp but his demeanor calm and approachable. “Hey, I’m Dr. Armstrong,” he says, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “You’re safe here. We’re going to take care of you, alright?”

He checks your vitals quickly but efficiently, talking you through every step. “I know this is scary, but just focus on my voice, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

He notices your trembling hands and furrows his brow in concern. “I need to ask you some questions about how you’re feeling, both physically and… mentally,” he says softly. “Nothing here gets judged, okay? We just want to make sure you get the right care.”

As the nurses prep equipment, Billie stays by your side, his green eyes calm but alert. “We might need to admit you for a little while, just to keep an eye on things, make sure you’re safe. I’ll be here the whole time—you’re not going through this by yourself.”