Thrice Reborn: Alpha King and His Whore Saviour

Dr. Clive was preparing to go to the hospital, after a restless night when the breaking news on the television caught his attention.

BREAKING NEWS: The naked body of an unknowns girl was found in the middle of town square yesterday', the news caster was saying.

Dr. Clive put down his briefcase and sat down, heart thumping. He prayed fervently it wouldn't be her.

'She is suspected to be a call girl and due to the tell tail marks on her body, it is evident she died of drug overdose', the caster continued.

Now, Clive was very agitated. The body of the said girl was shown and though her face was not clearly visible, Clive was almost certain it was her. At the rate his heart was doing an overdrive, he was sure he was going to have a cardiac arrest. He recalled the advice he would have given his patients if they had had such complaints. 'Take a deep breath, and exhale slowly.... free your mind of all distressing thoughts, especially those that might have brought on the anxiety'. He knew all this but he was finding it hard to follow his own advice as he listened more.

'It is not certain if it was the drug overdose that killed her or the whip marks on her body or eleven the abrasion in her inner thighs, an indication of being gang raped or raped by the same person multiple times. The corpse has been deposited in the morgue of the St. Luke Hospital', the caster concluded and moved to another news item.

Against his principles, and with a heart thumping in his ears, he decided to go straight to the morgue, instead of the hospital, to confirm what he already suspected but was still hoping against all hope, that he was wrong.

'I am going to heave a sign of relief when I see the face of the girl whose corpse was found because it will definitely not be her', he thought, trying to calm his racing heart. He laughed, nervously. 'Stop being ridiculous, Dr. Clive. You just might die before this girl. She has been in this kind of life and knows how to take care of herself. Sadly though, this thought brought him no comfort.

He could not deceive himself anymore, or feign being calm. He was scared - for her - Oh no, she couldn't die. Not because of his stubbornness. He ran, flagged down the cabs that were passing but none seemed ready to stop. He had forgotten to take his car in his agitated state. He didn't think he would be able to drive carefully in any case.

Finally, a cab stopped and he hopped in, giving the driver the directions to the morgue. The drive was short but to Dr. Clive, it was the longest ride he had ever taken. He kept looking out the window restlessly. If he could fly, he would have done just that. Finally, the cab parked in front of St Luke Hospital.

'Thanks', he said, giving the driver some money as he hopped out of the car. 'keep the change!' he added as he ran into the morgue.

'He was quite in a hurry!' the driver said to himself. 'I wonder who he is going to see or identify!' He shook his head as he reversed the car and drove off.

Dr. Clive got to the reception and showed them his identification.

'What may we do for you, Doctor?' the receptionist asked respectfully.

'I wish to see the corpse of the girl who was deposited this morning!' he said, trying to sound calm and firm.

'There were lots of corpses brought in this morning', she said. 'Which exactly are you interested in?'

'The one suspected of drug overdose and whipping!' he said, shutting his eyes as images of what he had seen the previous night flashed through his mind.

'What is the purpose of your visit?' she asked.

'I have come to conduct a little post mortem on the body. It will not take long', he said smiling amicably but he was sure the girl could see that his smile was fake.

'Upstairs, the second room on the right, room 48,

Brent will accompany you', she said dismissively as she turned to attend to another person.

Dr. Clive restrained himself and walked with dignity a new steps but when he was sure the receptionist's attention was diverted, he took the steps three at a time till he got to the door of the room 48, the receptionist had directed him to, oblivious to the fact that there was a morgue attendant called Brent with him.

'You got the right room', Brent said. 'Would you want me to come in with you or would you rather go in alone?'

He started. He had not really heard the last part of the receptionist's statement and hence was shocked when Brent spoke. 'Alone, if you don't mind', Clive murmured.

With his hand to the handle, heart pounding deafenly in his ears, he hesitated but with grim determination, pushed open the door and went in.

There were two bodies in the room. He went to the first one and lifted the white sheet which the corpse was wrapped in, swiftly.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he looked down on the cold face lying under the sheet

It was a young girl but it was not her. He nearly collapsed in his relief. But it was not over yet. This one had no whip marks on her body nor marks to show she had taken drugs, he thought as his eyes roved over the corpse.

He covered the corpse again with the white sheet as his eyes strayed to the next body in the room. His heart started its overdrive again. He found he was hyperventilating as he walked stealthily towards the next corpse. He paused when he got there, offered a silent prayer to the Goddess and gently opened the sheet and his heart nearly stopped beating. There staring unseeingly at him was the face of....of Olivia. Oh Moon Goddess, how could you allow this? Why did she have to die for my wrongs? he thought brokenly.

His legs started shaking. He was going to slump.This was too much for him. He was a doctor and had seen corpses, touched them. It was part of his job but the manner of death of this particular one and the cause, made it too hard for him to come to terms with.

'Doctor, are you having problems in there? This is taking longer than you promise it would', the attendant who had accompanied him said, outside the shut door.

'Almost done!' he said and was surprised to find that his voice was firm and steady. He dragged in a shaky breath. 'I caused this girl's death!' he thought disconsolately. 'I brought her to this tragic and shameful end. I might as well have injected her with the cocaine overdose!'. Tears stung his eyes as he recalled again the previous night, visions of what she must have passed through in her final moments - in his stead - tormenting and torturing his mind, refusing to be shut out. He brushed the tears off, furiously. 'I shall bring your murderers to justice, he vowed as he slid his palm over her wide open but sightless eyes, shutting them, and imagining with a searing pain in his heart, the horror those eyes must have seen before going sightless in death. Then he gently, almost reverently covered up the body again.

Then he sniffed back his tears as he walked purposefully out of the morgue, down the stairs without as much as a glance at the attendant nor the clerk, into the road.