Dead Doctors Don't Lie Book Review Novels & Stories

The soft clink of cutlery had long faded into the silence that followed her question—How many have you killed?—and the weight of his answer still lingered in the air between them. I don’t keep count. It should have terrified her. Instead, it made him real. They remained in bed, the sheets tangled around their legs, their bodies close but not touching now. The golden morning light had warmed the room, but a chill had returned, the kind that comes from speaking the kinds of truths most people die with.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

Or maybe he was just choosing to believe everything she was saying because he had the upper hand against him. "Well, I thought that if I could manage to blackmail you, then you would come to me, but you were so in love with Evangelien that it broke my heart, and since I wanted to keep my pride, I acted as if I had evidence," she expounded her lie. She could not believe how good she was at doing things like this. "So cute," he murmured. She almost let out a sigh of relief that she had been able to deceive him so quickly, and he did not pick up on it. Maybe he was just choosing to believe her, so he did not miss out on anything.

The memory answers before she can stop it. Her back against the concrete pillar. The dead closing in. One hand pressed to her bleeding arm. The bag gone. Dex gone. No rescue. No miracle. Just her, laughing once because of course this was how it ended, because if she had known betrayal came with this much paperwork she would have asked for a receipt. She had still tried to get up. Even then. Especially then. “That’s a flattering way to say I died stubborn.” It was a statistically significant death. A laugh escapes her before she can catch it. Small. Ugly. Almost nothing.

"You'll say anything, won't you? "And on top of that, Scarlett was busy working. You're trying to pin this on her? "Are you even human?" Seth chimed in as well. "Exactly. We don't even know if this person actually died or not, and yet he's pulling this stunt to scare everyone."

He left the room, careful, like he was trying not to wake something. I watched him go and felt nothing. My heart was already dead. He'd put the arrogance down too late. At the press conference, the flashes were blinding. Vivian's fake diploma. Vivian's workplace abuse. Piece by piece, in front of every camera in the room. A thick file. Clean, methodical. And the videos. With audio. You could hear the cigarette hissing as it pressed into skin. The reporters were sharks scenting blood. They came at me with every question.

Overwhelming despair instantly washed over Alessio. He kept denying the truth because he couldn't accept the fact that he had personally caused my death. He whipped his head up, staring intently at the director in front of him as he said in a trembling voice, "Impossible! It can't be! The doctor said she was just malnourished, and she'll be fine if she gets plenty of rest!" Seeing Alessio fall apart, the director said hesitantly, "I'm not sure about the details. It's possible that the doctors were in too much of a rush back then and missed her actual condition."

What he read about decades ago was now before him. Zadicus was slightly fascinated and intrigued but they were tense. “This can’t… Tales of Grievances perished long ago.” Huzefa whispered in disbelief. “I burned the last copy myself. I was a juvenile. Curiosity got the best of me… it was terrible. I read the whole book.” Zadicus shrugged his shoulders, nonchalant about it. “And you are still sane? Those who read it and the one who wrote it, all of them killed themselves.” Huzefa asked, blinking to fathom how strong his mind could be.

Inside there are black candles, several scrolls, and a thick pitch-black book. Of course, it is the book that gets my attention. I took it and inspected it if there are dents, torn pages, or mites. Fortunately, although the book looks old, it also looks new, feels new, and smells new. It has gold writings on it, Death of God. "Death of God?! How did this get to here? I am sure if Mama saw you, she's gonna burn you," I said laughing at my own jokes. See, I am not just unlucky, I am also corny and crazy.

Ariel looked at him. "Mr. Heathorne." Colin smiled slightly. He took the opportunity to ask her a question regarding the fly-by-wire system. After thinking about it, Ariel recommended a book to him. "You can try going through that book. You should be able to find something useful in it." Colin was quite shocked. It was a special edition book that contained fairly hard-to-read and digest materials, yet it seemed like Ariel had finished reading it. Colin was about to ask Ariel another question, but Nancy approached him just then. "Mr. Heathorne, I didn't get to greet you because I was a bit occupied earlier."