She was not new to the back of an ambulance, nor to the ER, the process now as common as grabbing a cup of coffee. Her fiancé joined her in short order, easily able to skirt the guards assigned to keep people alone with their pain.
"You know, my boss thought I was lying when I told him I was leaving for this," he said, with what had become an escalating tinge of annoyance.
"It's not like it was my fault." She had always been a passenger. Well, except that once. But that wasn't her fault either. The internal investigation said so! The appearance of a round man in her curtained prison snapped her from an ugly flashback and into the present.
"Hello, I am Doctor Barrow. What brings you . . . wow, look at that! It's massive! How long has it been there?"
She was sad to have to disappoint him. "It's not the leg. I was just now in a car accident."
The gruesome man had stopped listening, asking question after question about her leg. Yes, it was a different accident. I was walking. I know, I'm in a lot of accidents. I have kept score. It's the fifth in the back seat of a car. Not. My. Fault. Flashing back again, smothered by fear and desperation, the only word she could manage was "Stop!"
Her frustration obvious, her fiancé stepped in to speak with the doctor. The questions blissfully ended. After a perfunctory examination and a feeble offer of duplicative pills, the couple headed home.
"I know it's not your fault," he whispered, his tone markedly reversed from his earlier harshness. "I love you, we are getting married! What will we do if you're run over by another bus? Be careful!"
His playfulness was returning, much to her relief. A broad smile passed over his lips along with that twinkle in his eyes, and she knew. She knew he was The One, and that he would love her forever, no matter what.
Exactly 333 words fulfilling, in my mind, all three challenges. Ms. Unlucky's adventures may be found sprinkled among my posts, both past and future.