Forbidden Doctor - R. S. Elliot Page 0,57

and that my very mother had been reduced to nothing more than an anonymous name in a medical journal.

“Say it, Dad,” I asked of him, and my voice was thick with the tears that I hadn’t let her see—not once in the months of her decline.

“She passed away, Adrian, last night. Her heart just couldn’t—”

“Bullshit,” I said calmly but firmly, and my father snapped his eyes up to mine.

That wasn’t the kind of language you heard from your perfect son every day.

“What?”

“It’s bullshit,” I said, choosing the boiling anger over the tears that were threatening to fall. “Mom was dead the moment we stepped in here, and he,” I jabbed a finger in Aaron Christophers’ direction, “decided that not operating on her would make for a better article!”

I didn’t wait to hear my father’s answers, Dr. Christophers’ excuses. Instead, I rose to my feet, stalked out of the room, and strode down the halls of the hospital until I was well and truly lost. I didn’t care who saw me, and I didn’t care what they thought. Awful things happened every day in hospitals, and if a crying teenager was the biggest of their concerns, then I envied them.

I let the tears fall onto my carpet and held my head in my hands. What if she died? Her body, broken and bruised, a c-spine holding her stable, and her beautiful curls soaked in blood came to mind. She had almost died that night, and what was I really waiting for? If I chose her, I would always have the fear of injury, or sickness, or death hanging over my head.

I could choose my career, like Aaron wanted me to, but would I be able to work alongside Stevie everyday and pretend like nothing had ever happened between us? I’d tried that once before, and it had led to her accident.

I pulled out my phone and rang the only person that could help me.

I opened my door to see Melissa standing there.

Her eyes were bright and shiny, excited, and her cheeks were flushed. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she was dressed in running gear.

“Did she wake up?” Melissa asked before even greeting me.

Of course, she would ask—Melissa was selfless. I shook my head, though, and invited her in.

“I just wanted to talk,” I muttered.

She stepped over the threshold and made a comment about how much cleaner the house looked than the last time she’d been there. I pointed out that it was a tendency of Jonah’s to clean when stressed, and then, we were silent. Melissa perched on my sofa, and I paced in front of the coffee table, letting the air grow silent and stale.

“Just say it,” She demanded suddenly, and I looked at her. “Ade, I know you called me over here to break up, and really, I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not! I knew going into this that another girl had your heart, and I can’t exactly pretend that if Harry was able to, I wouldn’t waltz off into the sunset with him and leave you in the dust.”

“Huh.” I said simply. “So, uh, does this mean we’re over?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “but I have a feeling there’s more on your mind than just our farce of a relationship.”

So, I told her.

I told her about Aaron’s ultimatum and how I had to choose between Stevie and my career. We spoke for hours about what each decision would mean and how it would affect me in the long term. Melissa asked about Stevie, and she handed me tissues when I almost started crying again.

By the time the sun was coming up, I had an answer, and I knew I’d follow through, no matter how much it hurt my heart.

Chapter Eighteen

Stevie

Sometimes there were voices, and I wanted to call out, to tell them that I was there and that I needed a hand, because as wonderful as this warm, dark place was, I was beginning to miss things about my life. I wanted to know what came next, even if I had died. It couldn’t be just soft darkness for eternity—could it?

You’re a fool, a voice twisted through the darkness, taunting me. What did you think was going to happen?

The voice was painfully familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it. The mere attempt was causing all sorts of pain to flood my head.

...needs to know… a different voice muttered indistinctly. ...if she doesn’t…

The second voice made agony shoot through me like a bolt of