Novel-novel oleh Choleric_vee

Vanessa was in the hospital cafeteria reading over surgical protocol notes when the email came on a Tuesday morning.Subject: Housing Notice - Immediate Action RequiredDear Resident,The Medical Residence Hall will be closed as of Friday, March 7th, for a minimum of 6-8 weeks due to emergency repairs to the building (damage caused by a recent water pipe break) Residents must vacate by 5 p.m. on Friday. The university housing office has a handful of other options for housing. Please email housing@jhmi.edu immediately to discuss options.Vanessa read it twice, then she looked at the date once more. Tuesday. Three days.She turned on her laptop and looked up rental ads. Studio flats by campus were going for eighteen hundred a month. Sublets needed 1st month, last month & security deposit. Her severance from Elizabeth would pay for it, but barely. And most places wanted a six-month lease minimum.She shut the laptop and brought her fingers to her temples."Problem?"She looked up. Edward

The first week of lectures was like drinking from a fire hose. Vanessa was always in the front row of every class, her pen moving across the page of her notebook in tight, neat lines. Urological pathology. Surgical anatomy. Pharmacological interventions. The professors talked fast, assumed literacy, demanded expertise.She worked late in the lab, her eyes stinging as she studied slides under the microscope. Prostate tissue. Bladder biopsies. Renal cell carcinoma. She cross-referenced every slide with her textbooks, scribbled notes in the margins in three different colors, and highlighted sections until the pages resembled abstract paintings.The rest of the experts, most of them younger, just out of residency, were ganging up. They invited her once. She declined politely. They didn't ask again.By Friday her shoulders ached. Not from sitting, from tensing so tightly That I forgot to Breathe. She had a sore jaw from clenching. Her hands tied themselves in knots while she held her pen

"Passport please.”Vanessa slid her passport across the counter and didn’t look up.The immigration official barely glanced at her before turning the pages leisurely, too leisurely. Then he shifted his eyes between the photograph and her face. There were activities everywhere around her, rolling suitcases, clipped announcements, the low hum of people who had just arrived to meet someone.“Whats your purpose of visit?” he said.“To study.”“For how long?”“As long as it takes.”That earned her a final look. Not suspicion, just mild curiosity. He stamped the passport, in what seem to be in slow motion, slid it back to her, and made a hand gesture for her to go.The airport had this smell that is unique to hospitals…like disinfectant and burnt coffee, a strange blend that clung to her clothes as she followed the flow of bodies toward baggage claim. Screens blinked overhead in unrecognized codes and terminals. Voices rose and fell in accents she couldn't recognize…yet. Somewhere behind h

“You haven't been picking my calls? Travis said in a hoarse voice, his chest thrusted out, eyes gleaming from Vanessa to Franklin. They folded their arms allowing their silence stretch the room. Travis declined back, his eyes catching the strain that laid on Vanessa's veins. For every long glare, her grip on the paper tightened even more, her knuckles digging through it like she was about to tear it to pieces. “Can someone answer me? What the hell is going on here?” His eyes flushed. Vanessa pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I hate suspense.” He sneered, swirling back slowly. “Attorney Franklin. Has she brought you here as a witness while she signs the surrogacy agreement?” He turned to a seat, his back pressed to the couch.No response came from them.Vanessa stepped forward, pinching her lips tight to keep them from trembling. Lifting her chin, she swallowed hard, stifling back the weakness that burned in her throat. “Travis.” She exhaled deeply. “Fo

Vanessa lurched out of the office clutching the medical records in her hand, her nails biting into her palms. The ground scraped beneath her feet as she hunched over as if choking down a sob. She lowered her head, her neck appearing to shrink. She pushed through the exit door, pinching her lips tight to keep them from trembling. How could he? She stuttered, choking for words. Her shoulders drooped as her body crumpled into itself. This isn’t the kind of marriage I gave up my career for. Her hands pressed against her breastbone as she bit her bottom lips, eyes widened as brows furrowed.When she got to the spot she had parked her car, she collapsed into the seat, slamming the door so hard that her ears stung.She sat facing the front mirror, her throat tightened making her lungs squeeze and her muscles weak. As she reached out for her phone, her limbs trembled and the tear she had fought so hard to resist finally streaked down her face. She dialed her attorney’s number and pressed t

The screeching of the tires made Vanessa's back bounce on the seat as her grip tightened around the steering wheel. “This better not be true.” She muttered,pressing her lips as she stared at the hospital's gate. Her throat burned. Was this marriage a lie even after she had forfeited her career? Was it a waste of commitment and effort?” She sucked her teeth, feeling the weight of the betrayal settle like a stone in her chest. She grabbed her bag, and unfolded the document across her lap. As she scanned through the file for the umpteenth time, her fingers hoovered around. She swallowed hard, reached for the door handle and shoved it open. The door slammed behind her. Vanessa clutched the file in her hand, her heels clicking across the parking lot and through the automatic doors. The sharp, pungent sterile scent of isopropyl alcohol mixed with antiseptic dettol and sweet acetone clung to her nostrils but she didn't flinch. Her eyes were too busy searching, scanning fo

“Tell me she didn’t.”Peter realized he’d spoken out loud when James stopped pacing and looked at him.James didn’t respond right away. He merely stood there, square in the middle of Peter’s office, the tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, face taut with some kind of strain Peter hadn’t witnessed in ages.That was answer enough.Peter’s stomach dropped.“She filed?” Peter asked again, his voice quieter now.James exhaled slow and steady. “She filed.”The words came down like a hammer.Peter reclined in his chair and glanced beyond James, beyond the glass wall of the office, to the city skyline outside it. His fingers curled around the edge of the desk.“How?” he asked. “Under what grounds?”James displayed the document in his hand.“She’s contesting the inheritance again.”The two became silent.Peter snorted.“She lost,” he said. “Barely a year ago. She lost.”“I know.”“Stephanie had made sure of that.”“I know.” Peter pushed his chair back and stood. There was the sudden jolt of moti

"Why was this amended?"Stephanie didn't know she had spoken out loud until she heard her words faintly reverberating in the empty room of her office.She stopped, listening, half expecting someone to tell her where to go.No one did.Yes. No one, she knew.The city outside was still alive, cars whispering past on wet asphalt, horns far away, a laugh here and there but the lobby, the building, were empty. Quiet. Watching.Stephanie returned to her monitor.The cursor pulsed steadily next to the revised line on the death certificate.It was as if she was counting down.She leaned in, peering through exhausted, stinging eyes that had been at work for hours."Amendment Filed: October 3, 2021"Her stomach tightened."That's not right," she murmured.This time her voice was smaller."Wrong."The word hung heavily in her chest.The death certificate for Martin had been issued in 2019. She remembered that day all too well, the crammed office and her hands trembling uncontrollably as she si

“Don’t wake him yet.”The words floated around the room like smoke, soft but with purpose and intension. Martins heard them at first without comprehension, his mind slow, heavy, caught in that liminal space between sleep and something more acute.Catalina was by the window, phone to her ear, her figure was a stark contrast to the pale morning glow. One arm was bent over her body, the other raised with her fingers lightly touching her temple. She wasn’t whispering for the sake of secrecy. She was whispering out of control.“Yes."she said quietly. "I know. I’ll handle it."She hung up without looking up.Martins stirred.The first thing that came into focus was the ceiling above him. White. Too white. Not his. The air had a light citrus fragrance and a floral scent that he couldn’t identify. His body felt heat, mass and the ghost of a body lying next to him that was no longer there.Memory rushed in all at once.The bar.The walk.A hurried kiss that had not been.The door closed behind

“Are you always this quiet,” Catalina said, “or do you only speak to people who are worth it?”Martins didn’t lift his head right away. He finished pulling the top edges of the folder on his desk straight, precise, deliberate, stalling for time. When at last he caught her gaze, he flashed a smile that wasn’t really a smile.“You’re in my office,” he said. “That should make them all cautious.”Catalina advanced farther inside and shut the door behind her. Not gently. The click was faintly final and unmistakable.“Careful is overrated.”She didn’t sit. Instead, she rested on the edge of his desk, near enough that he could make out the subtle shimmer on her eyelids, near enough that her perfume, warm, muted, purposefully invaded his space and doubled back refusing to leave.Martins reclined in his chair. “Now, if this is in relation to the procurement files, you should have sent an email.”Her chuckle was muted, nearly warm. “You already know it’s not.”He examined her then, for real thi

“You’re telling me the system did that on its own?” Stephanie didn’t raise her voice. She didn't need to. The stillness in her tone was sharper than anger or rage.From the other end of the secure video line, the compliance officer sat up straighter in his chair. He was young, too young for the sort of anomalies blinking across her screen and it showed in the way he cleared his throat before answering."Following step the system automatically logged it,” he said. “There’s no manual override. No place where a human has entered the system that we can track.”Stephanie eased back slowly, fingers interlaced beneath her chin. The light of three monitors was reflecting in her eyes, copy and timelines running into each other.“Systems don’t hallucinate,” she said. “People do.”A pause.“Yes, ma’am.”She exhales through her nose. ‘Take me through it again. From the top. Slowly.”The officer complied. Dates. Jurisdictions. Compliance triggers Each word stacked tidily on top of the last, neat

"Do you ever discuss her?"The question came out of nowhere.Martins stopped short, her hand still on the restaurant’s back door, the night air rushing in behind them. From the kitchen came the noise and bustle of pans banging, raised voices in three languages, the hissing sound of oil frying food. Catalina was just outside, jacket slung over one shoulder, phone dark in her hand, eyes were sharp in a way that said this wasn’t casual curiosity.“Talk about who?” he asked, even though he already knew.She never smiled. “Your wife.”There it was. Clean. Direct. Catalina never circled a thing she could pierce.Martins let the door swing shut. The sudden quiet pressed in. Streetlight. Damp pavement. The faint smell of citrus cleaner and smoke.“sometimes” he said Cataline’s eyes scanned his face as if she was looking for loopholes in a document. “Sometimes isn’t an answer.”He exhaled through his nose, a sound that could have been a laugh in another life. “You ask questions like a prosec

(MINUTES LATER) DANIEL My devil is in the sheets, glaring at me with hunger in his eyes. His skin is flushed, his words slur. I don’t know if he can see me well, but the way his teeth skate over his lips tells me all I need to know. “Have you ever used a wheelchair before?” Arden’s voice is hoarse with desire. My pulse skips. I bite my tongue to avoid speaking, and shake my head instead. “Would you mind using one?” Now, I’m scared. Why would he ask me such? “Peach, answer me.” He says in a throaty voice that sends my stomach fluttering. “Your name is Peach from today. You look sweet. You won’t taste any different.” Why do I feel like I’m obligated to say thank you? I nod again. It seems to irritate him. “Don’t you talk, Peach? You’ll beg anyway when I’m choking you with my cock, why not let me hear your sweet voice?” Fuck. Arden, is that you? I’d have bet my life that Arden is anything but warm. He treats Dakor like trash, and here he is lavishing sweet words

PRESENT DAY. (DANIEL) In my safe place there are many dangers. Machos parade their large cocks with their masks on, nicotine and mixed colognes swirl in the air, as party comers dance on the strobe light floor. Loud jazz buzzes from the subwoofers, rattling my bones. I knock back my martini, the alcohol burning down my throat. Fuck. I need cock. The faster I get fucked, the better. “You’ve had too much. You’ll lose yourself.” Clara says, shaking the drink hard before pouring it into a glass of ice. “For the fact this is a secret society doesn’t guarantee you waste yourself. You lose your guard, your identity suffers.” She’s right. You have to sign an NDA. Mask always, clothes optional. Their acceptance rate is brutal, but Clara helped me maneuver my way in. And since I came back from jail, I’ve been getting premium dicks here. “Cheers to best friends,” I raise my glass, words slurry. “Or Mama wannabe. Don’t tell me shit bitch.” Clara slides three shots across the bar t

(THREE MONTHS AFTER THE SHOOTING) (DANIEL) “Murderer!” THUMP!!! Papa’s fist pummels into my face. Pain lances across my cheek, but it's little compared to the one in my soul. Three months since I pulled the trigger, and I haven’t forgotten a second. I still see Gloria’s empty eyes glaring at me, tears coating her cheeks, with blood in my hand. Mama hates me, but won’t let me rot in jail. Papa? Hatred is an understatement. Still, he didn’t just get me out. He erased the crime entirely. No trial. No record. Gloria and Gareth’s deaths were ruled as murder-suicide. Gareth killed Gloria, then himself. The perfect cover. Only Mama, Papa, and I know the truth. “You Faggot!” My Father, Douglas Cooper, barks in his Scottish accent. “You want a promotion after killing my daughter?! Forming a committee to support your parole. You sure have the nerves, boy.” I’ve been back at Douglas and family conglomerate for a week now. The employees bring me coffee at 8 am, small talk, and

(DANIEL)The beat from Cardi B’s most infamous anthem, WAP, hums in the car: crude and profane. I’m a certified Bardi, but that song is nothing compared to what Gareth will do to me.Pulling up in the garage, I snag the package from the backseat. My fingers skim the pistol I keep under the seat. London’s dangerous for queers like me. I’ve had it since the mugging last year.I kill the engine. The car beeps twice as I sashay into my compound. Sorry, our compound. Gareth and I. I work for the cash, he fucks my brains out. Proper division of labour.I snicker, twisting the knob of our apartment. Life has never been better than this.The usual rich kid’s home: Expensive furnishings, flashy interiors, with a junk-infested kitchen. Trying too hard and insufficient at the same time.Oh, I miss Mama, but that ship sailed a long time ago.Dashing through the parlour, I take the stairs two at a time, my pulse thrumming in anticipation.I’ve emptied my savings, even taken bank loans to get Garet

(DANIEL) “Bitch, I still got files open,” I clutch the table edge, gritting my teeth against the obscene sounds seeping from Arden’s office. “Shut the fuck up!” The same cycle every time: Partners pitch interest to us, they send their representative, and Arden scribbles his cock on their pussies. Pants up, handshake, more money. Our current catch is Samantha Hartwell, heiress of Pentox Oil and Gas Ltd. Stupid corporate whore. Shifting my chair backward, I contemplate knocking out the bitch’s teeth, or maybe strangling her with my tie while Arden watches. My cock leaps at the thought. I adjust my slacks, trudge to the door, peering through the peephole. What the hell?! Samantha is bent over the desk, my desk, Arden’s cock pumping her ass with brutal force. Ass?! Hello? Do straight men fuck ass?! My hand hovers over the knob. Saliva pools in my mouth, and sweat clings to my brows. My pulse thuds in my ears. Oh, God. Through the door, Samantha’s cries pitch higher, but it’s Ar