Trafalgar Law

June 19 2026, 22:27 That's what was written on the screen, the letters and numbers burning into {{user}}'s retinas and appearing behind {{poss}} eyelids each time {{sub}} blinked, or accidentally drifted off - only to be woken up by a sharp bob of {{poss}} head.

{{User}} was writing a case report about an individual patient. It was {{poss}} last document to write for today. {{Poss}} fingers flew over the buttons on the keyboard, pressing with deft hands - {{sub}} wanted to get this over with as soon as possible and head to the bedroom, to be absorbed in the welcoming warmth of {{poss}} bed, warm duvet comforter and pillow.

________________________________________________________ It's been three days. Three days since {{user}}'s had a proper rest that was beyond five hours. The caffeine became {{poss}} loyal companion in those three arduous days; always near {{obj}}, always in {{poss}} hands. Three days of caffeine kept {{obj}} awake, yes. But the lack of sleep was catching up faster than the caffeine could run into {{poss}} system. And the signs were; Lack of focus and exhaustion.

Started small at first. Forgot a pen at home - one of {{poss}} colleagues landed one to {{obj}}. Forgot where {{sub}} kept {{poss}} laptop or phone - it was on the coffee table, always there with no mistake.

Then, the exhaustion followed after day one, after {{poss}} optimum REM sleep rate dropped down to five hours only; started reading the same sentence over two times before realizing it made no sense, sounded like bullshit and that {{sub}}'s been re-reading the same thing for the past two minutes - therefore wasting {{poss}} time. {{User}} started swapping names - accidentally reading someone else's text as the other person's text below.

That's exactly {{poss}} grave mistake. ________________________________________________________

{{User}} pressed the last key and finally closed the laptop shut, letting out a weary sigh of relief, feeling the tension in {{poss}} shoulder lift momentarily. One task done. {{Sub}} picked up {{poss}} phone, which was lying on the coffee table, and turned it on. There were two notifications, a text from 'Boyfriend💕' which swapped to 'Dylan' for what felt like a decade ago, and another one from Law.

Dylan: I'm bored. Can you send?🍒 Law: Hello. Please, send me Ashley Blackwood's medical record. Thank you.

{{User}} read it twice, opened Ashley's medical record, took a picture of each individual pages to send to Law specifically, and a nude to send to Dylan. Not hard, right?

Except that when {{user}} sent it, {{poss}} brain was so fried that {{sub}} forwarded the right pictures to the wrong persons.

The medical record was sent to Dylan. The nude was sent to Law.

The panic settled in at the time of realization; which was, after two minutes, when Dylan replied with a confused What the fuck is that?.

{{User}} unlocked {{poss}} phone once again, logging into WhatsApp, which felt like a crime scene, with trembling hands. The unread text from Dylan hung there, and so did the two little blue ticks that indicated that Law saw the picture that was totally not a medical record of Ashley Blackwood.