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”You can trust me.”
Her eyes snap to me. ”Trust a doctor who accepts bribes?” she pants and I knew karma would bite me in the ass one day.
I reach out, clasping her elbow gently. “Hold up. If you ever need anything—” I give her my business card.
She cuts me off, her eyes wide with terror. “I won’t,” she insists, her words rushed. She snatches my business card from my hand, but as she hurries out of the surgery room, I see her toss it into the trash without a second glance.
I grit my jaw, frustration and concern gnawing at me. I knew she wouldn’t take the offer. She’s too terrified of Raymond, too entrenched in whatever hold he has over her.
I step out into the corridor, watching Raymond approach Pamela. He wraps his arms around her, murmuring something in her ear. She can’t stand him, squirms in his presence and I feel my own skin crawl. I want to wring his neck. Or better yet throw him down on the surgical table and go to town, using only my sharpest, most painful equipment. The kind that would do the most damage and I can barely even fucking look at this. The way he watches her, makes me want to wash my eyeballs in bleach. I just want to tear her away from him and make sure he never gets anywhere near her ever again.
But she won’t let me. She’s made the choice to go with him. The girl’s shoulders are stiff as they walk away together, her movements rigid and controlled.
”Dr. Payne?” a thick voice grunts and I turn.
A rough-looking man approaches me and I nod at him. He’s a frequent client of mine, part of the mob. Beside him a bimbo smiles at me—probably his new mistress. He gestures towards her then offers me a thick stack of cash.
“She’s ready for her procedure,” he grunts, his expression conniving yet excited, and his woman laughs, pets his belly and calls him her little pervert.
I let out a sigh, accepting the money without a thought. It’s just another day at work for me. As I prepare for the next procedure, I keep thinking of Pamela. It feels as if she’s been surgically implanted in me. And she’s not the only thing that’s been implanted.
4.
Pamela
I’m curled up in my bed, surrounded by the soft, comforting colors. The duvet is a cloud of pink and white, matching the plush pillows. I have my phone in my lap, watching a YouTube video of kittens sneaking up on their unsuspecting owners. I smile at their antics, but the laughter that should come feels stuck somewhere deep inside me.
The playful meows and surprised gasps from the video fade when I put my phone away and sink into my thoughts. They drift to Hugo, and the way he looked at me during the surgery. His eyes, so intense and piercing, had seemed to see right through me. I remember the gentle brush of his fingers against my skin, the way his touch had made me feel—safe, protected.
I lick my lips, feeling a strange heat rise in my cheeks as I think about him. There's a stirring inside me, a fluttering that makes my heart race and my face flush. I groan softly, rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away but failing miserably. I can’t deny it; I feel something.
Just as I start to lose myself in the memory of his strong, reassuring presence, a knock on the door snaps me back to reality. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest as I stare at the closed door.
“Who is it?” I croak, even though I know exactly who it is.
“It’s your favorite brother,” comes the reply from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”
“I was just about to go to sleep…” I say, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me alone. But the door swings open, and he marches inside anyway.
He’s dressed in his usual expensive attire, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up as if he’s ready to relax. His hair is drenched in wax, and there’s a leering gleam in his eyes that makes my stomach churn.
I freeze, feeling sick immediately. Every muscle in my body tenses as he closes the door behind him and starts to roam around my room, his eyes flicking over my things. He picks up a framed photo of us from years ago, studying it before placing it back on the dresser. I never wanted to frame that photo, but he gave it to me as a birthday gift.
Finally, he makes his way over and sits on the edge of my bed. “So,” he begins, his voice unnervingly friendly, “I see you’ve taken the bandage off.”
“The doctor said I could,” I reply, my voice trembling slightly. “Just need to be careful with my hand for a while.”
Raymond nods, a small, unsettling smile playing at his lips. “Good. I like you better without it.” He pauses, his eyes darkening. “You know, I didn’t mean to hurt you, right? What happened was never my intention. You just… angered me and I overestimated my own strength.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“You’re still my good girl,” he smiles, but it’s not a question.
“Yes,” I whisper, nodding again, my heart pounding in my chest.
Raymond shifts closer on the bed, his eyes roaming over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Do you have any idea how sweet you look in that pink, little nightie?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with something thicker than stale syrup.
I recoil, my body instinctively pulling away from him. The look in his eyes changes, slowly growing rabid. He reaches out to touch me, but I shake my head desperately, seeing the image of Hugo transform before my eyes.
