Doctor Sleep Stephen King Novels & Stories

As it was, there were already telltale signs. "Every day at 4:00 pm!" Sebastian frowned slightly. Dexter did have a very strange condition. "Maeve, you and Harold don't need to worry about Uncle Dexter's condition. I've already asked Jovenshire's most famous doctor, Percy Wolham, to come. I'm sure he can cure Uncle Dexter," Callum said, looking triumphantly at Harold and Maeve. The old man sitting beside Callum looked contemptuously at Sebastian. How could such a young doctor be capable of anything?

My father was sprawled on the ground, with his alpha robe almost swallowing him whole, and Ciara, held onto his head, trying all she could to stop the white substance coming out from his mouth. "Call the physician." She shrieked without looking at us and when Freya turned to do her bid, I stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Melissa, what are you do…" "Don’t call the physician, Freya, that is not whom he needs." I said to her before she could conclude her question. With my gaze still fixated on my father’s almost unconscious body on the ground, I sighed. "Call the sorceress instead." ********** "The day we have been dreading is here, Melissa." Charis, the sorceress said to me as soon as she

Hades says soothingly, his voice passing through my head and doing its work of solace. “You’re fine” He continues and rubs my back. “The doctor’s here!” One of the servants yells. The doctor walks inside the room. He's a private doctor who’s very clean about his work and also very expensive. As he knees in front of Hades and I, the first thing he does is to check my pulse from my wrist. He sighs and glances at where I threw up. And like a psychic, he lets the words out. “You were poisoned?”

He looked like he was about to say something but said nothing else as the doctor came into the room. “I presume you're her husband?” He said, looking at Steven “I am. What can you tell me, doctor?” Steven asked, grabbing the doctor’s hand. “Mr. King, I want you to know we’re doing everything we can for your wife. She sustained severe head injuries and significant trauma to her brain…” “What does all this mean? When is she waking up?” Sandra wailed, coming up from behind Steven and holding onto the doctor’s sleeve. Steven's eyes caught the name tag of the doctor, Dr. Mateo Suarez.

Steel resigned from the field, and his student was permanently disabled. This time, Hugo died right in front of Stephen. Which psychologist would dare treat Stephen after this? Simon glanced at Stephen, who lay motionless on the bed. He took a deep breath and called the Quinns, telling them to find the best doctors. After hearing about the situation, Harrison was shocked and did not dare to delay anymore. He immediately sought out various famous doctors. Dr. Steel was also invited, but he outright refused. Furthermore, when he heard that it was for Stephen, he chased them out.

“Indeed, she is. And as her doctor, I can’t disclose details about her health or her visits. It’s confidential, as you well know.” Sophia’s confidence wavered for a moment. This revelation had caught her off guard, and her mind raced to figure out how this could fit into Zia’s motives. “I don’t believe you,” she said finally, her tone more subdued but still accusatory. “You’re hiding something.” Dr. Kingsley sighed, his calm demeanor slipping slightly. “Miss Sophia, I’ve given you no reason to question my integrity. Furthermore, I’m dying. I don’t have the time or patience for baseless accusations.”

Something felt off, why exactly is Stephen here? “You have no right over my patient, you'll need approval from her husband to make us discharge her. Besides, it's against the rules to discharge a patient when the resident doctor advised against such action!! I could ask the security to walk you out of here this instant!” The doctor said to him, Stephen had a sly grin, his gaze met mine before he focused on the doctor in front of him. “You'll get a call soon, and hopefully apologise afterwards Dr…………Hannah” Stephen cockily said, looking at where her name was tagged on her white coat.

Just then, someone stepped forward from the crowd. "Isn’t this the doctor from yesterday, the one responsible for that botched surgery? I heard he caused his patient's death, and then committed suicide for fear of being punished. I suppose it's one life for another, but pity the victim’s family! The poor lady. So young, and already widowed by her husband's death..." Tears still streaking my face, I stood up and bowed deeply to the person who spoke.

Stephen walked briskly into the doctor’s office, his face tight with tension. The events of the past few hours still weighed heavily on him—Rosy collapsing, the frantic rush to the hospital, Claire’s pale face as she hovered nervously around them. He felt like a man whose life was slowly crumbling, and yet, he had no choice but to keep his composure. The doctor, a middle-aged man with sharp, intelligent eyes behind his glasses, stood up as Stephen entered. “Mr. Stephen Johnson?” the doctor asked, glancing down at the file in his hands.

“Don’t touch me! I’m exhausted—exhausted—from Valeria Montesino, from your guilt, from the whole collection of silences you used to run me over. I’m always the one who pays. Always.” The door swung open. Federico Klein appeared first, with that the-house-is-on-fire-and-I’m-carrying-buckets look on his face. Behind him came Dr. Stephen Hale—his gaze exact, his posture respectful—and, just behind him, Smith, stiff and uncomfortable, as if science itself had decided to cover its ears. “Sofía, enough,” Klein said gently but firmly, placing his hands on my arms. “Breathe. You can’t talk like this in your condition. You’re going to regret some of those words.”