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The Day the Hospital Made a Killer

The Day the Hospital Made a Killer

The hospital's latest intern, Lindsey Clark, is very pretty, but she's a total idiot as well. When my mom came to the hospital for a prescription, she swapped the vitamin C for potassium supplements, which were known to be very poisonous if misused. Mom, who was fresh out of surgery, suffered from heavy bleeding right after taking the medication. She died on the same night. Before I could hold Lindsey responsible for Mom's death, the latter quickly piped up with teary eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Monroe! I just thought that potassium supplements can help your mother heal faster…" Even Michael Jones, my husband, who was the hospital director, took her side. "Your mom only had her idiocy to blame! She died because she took the wrong medication! How dare you drag Lindsey into this!" I was so furious that my cardiac arrest was triggered on the spot. Soon, I was sent into the operating room. Lindsey said she wanted to redeem herself by taking on the post as Michael's assistant in the surgery. But her hands kept trembling even when she tried to thread the suture needle. In the end, she took off her mask and picked up the suture with her teeth. Just like that, she used her saliva to wet the suture end. One day later, I died in the ICU due to a case of severe infection. When my spirit was about to fade away, I heard Lindsey crying sadly. "If it wasn't for my idiocy, Dr. Monroe wouldn't have died!" Michael just patted her dotingly on the head in return. "Having medical risks in a surgical operation is completely normal. You're still young, so stop blaming yourself already." Mom and I were cremated instantly, seeing as Michael intended to cover up our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Lindsey has just gotten recruited by the hospital.
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Outsmarted by a Smart House

Outsmarted by a Smart House

I, Gianna Johnston, am born into a family of prodigies. My dad, Henry Johnston, is a computer science professor from Hafford University. My mom, Naomi Liddell, is a medical professor at Starvard University. And my brother, George Johnston, is an international math olympiad champion. Meanwhile, I'm barely passing my math classes at school. George gets so mad at me that he immediately writes down three full sets of math exam questions and exclaims, "You're so dumb that you're nothing but an embarrassment to Mom and Dad and me! "Don't you even think about leaving the house and embarrassing us again without completing all these math questions!" Mom then forces a few pills straight down my throat. Those pills are one of her inventions, called "smart pills". However, she doesn't care that I'm choking so hard on them that my eyes roll to the back of my head. "Stop using excuses, saying that you're tired or sleepy. These pills will keep you up for 24 hours without sleep. That should be enough time for you to complete all those math problems!" Dad then turns on "Strict Mode" on the smart house system, Domi. He says to me, "And don't even think about escaping the house to look for help. I will lock the door and cut off every signal going in or coming out. If you don't finish your work in time, nobody will even care if you die here!" After that, the three of them leave me behind and head off for their vacation in Hervaii. While shutting the door behind them, however, the vase of flowers full of water suddenly crashed into Domi's control panel. I'm choking so hard on the pills that I feel asphyxiated. I keep banging my fists against the front door for help. However, Domi, who has now short-circuited, keeps repeating, "Please complete your math questions, Gianna. Study hard and be a good student. "Study hard and be a good student. "Study hard and be a good student." I grip the sheets of math problems in my hands in agony. Will Mom, Dad, and George finally be happy when they see that I'm giving up my life for this?
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The Heiress's Gold-Digger

The Heiress's Gold-Digger

My girlfriend is the true heiress of a wealthy family, yet she suffers from severe paranoia. She's convinced that everyone is out to exploit her. She never believed in my love. In her eyes, I stayed with her only for status and money. To prove my sincerity, during our seven years together, I never spent a single cent of hers. I handed over every paycheck I earned. As for myself, I couldn't even afford a few dollars for a taxi. Every day, I walked five kilometers to work. Then one day, my mother was in a sudden car accident. The doctor called and told me to come see her for the last time. The hospital was thirty kilometers away. There was no way I could make it on foot in time. Left with no choice, I asked my girlfriend to transfer me thirty dollars for a taxi. She flew into a rage. "Simon, thirty dollars is your entire monthly living expense. How dare you ask me for that much all at once? I almost believed your feelings were genuine. But now I see—you're no different from those gold-diggers!" In the end, I never made it to see my mother one last time. When I returned home in a daze, I found my girlfriend throwing a birthday party for her childhood sweetheart. He was wearing the latest luxury watch, his face full of smug pride. "This is the one you bought at an overseas auction, right? Worth thirty million," he said. "You wouldn't even give Simon thirty dollars for a taxi. You're really generous with me." My girlfriend smiled indulgently. "It's only thirty million. It's not like I can't afford it. "Besides, how could Simon ever compare to you? Today, he dares to ask me for thirty. Tomorrow, he'll dare to ask me for thirty thousand. "I've always known it. He's been with me just to take my money." I stood there, frozen, my heart sinking into the abyss. 'It's fine. I don't want her money anymore. And I don't want her, either.'
Short Story · Romance
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Love on Ledger: My PhD Girlfriend Itemized Every Date

Love on Ledger: My PhD Girlfriend Itemized Every Date

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."
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MEURTRES

MEURTRES

Il prend du chocolat fondu sur la table et il me l'étale sur le ventre , il le lèche délicatement , puis , il en reprend encore qu'il étale cette fois-ci sur mes cuisses . - Tu es délicieuse ma chérie . - Et toi , tu es parfait . Il me remonte dessus pour me remplir de sa queue . - Hum - Hooo . Il m'embrasse passionnément , mais , il ne s'arrête il continue à me prendre doucement . - Je t'aime . - Je t'aime aussi ....Humm....oui.... vas-y... plus fort... Après une heure de passion , nous prenons une douche ensemble . Je suis réveillée par une douleur à la poitrine , j'ouvre les yeux et je suis surprise de voir mon mari au-dessus de moi , TENANT UN COUTEAU À LA MAIN . Je ne comprends pas , que se passe-t-il ?Je me rends compte qu'il me POIGNARDE encore et encore . Je suis tétanisée par la peur et la douleur mais surtout par l'incompréhension . Que fait-il ? Mais pourquoi me fait-il celà ? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé ? C'est mon mari ou est-ce que je me trompe ? C'est ma confusion qui fait que je le confond avec celui qui est en train de me tuer . Ce roman est pour un public averti : interdit aux moins de 21 ans . Âmes sensibles s'abstenir . Compilation d'histoires de Meurtres de femmes et d'hommes un peu partout dans le monde . Qui les tuent ? pourquoi ? Quelle est l'histoire derrière ces meurtres ? Découvrez des histoires de victimes de meurtres , les raisons et les conséquences dévastatrices sur ces familles qui ont perdu des êtres chers . Ceci est de la fiction toute ressemblance avec un fait passé n'est que coïncidence .
Mystère/Thriller
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Counting Pennies, Losing Daughters

Counting Pennies, Losing Daughters

On the night of New Year's Eve, I wake up in a hospital ward with an IV drip connected to the back of my hand. A nurse passes me the hospital bill. "It's 300 dollars in total, including the emergency treatment fee and the cost for a bottle of glucose drips." When I turn on my phone, I feel my heart sinking. I only have 29.01 dollars left in my bank account. The wallpaper of my phone is a countdown of my family contract's app. Today is the date when I have to renew my family contract for the year. In order to accumulate enough money to go home, I've been working as a staff member in concert venues. Earlier, I had collapsed backstage, so I was quickly sent to the hospital. The dial tone keeps beeping for a long time. Finally, my mom answers my call in what seems to be a noisy background. "Mom, I'm at the hospital right now. I need 300 dollars to pay the hospital bill." "You're at the hospital?" Mom's voice turns shrill immediately. "Why did you visit the hospital during the holidays? You really are a jinx!" "I fainted earlier. I was working at a concert venue—" "What? So, you refused to do chores at home during the holidays! Instead, you decide to work at a concert venue?" Mom interrupts immediately. "I don't have 300 dollars on me! You'd better come up with a way to pay that bill of yours!" "Mom…" My hand tightens around my phone. "Today is the last day of my family contract's renewal period. I'll renew the contract once I pay the bill." "Renew the contract, huh?" Mom just sneers at me. "That's a part of your duties! How dare you use it against me! Helena Lambert, if you don't renew the contract today, you can forget about calling me 'Mom'!" After that, she ends the call. I can only grip my phone to the point that my fingers turn white. After that, I tap on a social media app in hopes that I can borrow money from my friends, only to see the latest post on the social media feed. My younger sister, Hannah Lambert, has posted a photo collage there. "I'm here with my parents to watch my favorite singer's concert! Snagging tickets to the first-row seats is definitely worth it!" The background of those photos is the same concert venue where I work part-time at. It's the most expensive venue in town. Apparently, tickets cost 2,900 dollars each.
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Si tu n'avais plus que 72 heures à vivre

Si tu n'avais plus que 72 heures à vivre

Le jour où j'ai décidé de donner mon corps à la science, ma famille s'est rassemblée autour de ma sœur adoptive, Chloé, pour fêter son admission dans un programme expérimental de pointe. Celle qui était censée avoir un cancer du cerveau, c'était moi. Mais Chloé avait profité de la position de mon mari, Zane, à l'hôpital pour échanger ses dossiers médicaux sains contre mon diagnostic en phase terminale. Elle m'a volé ainsi la seule chance que j'avais de survivre. Et le pire ? Tout le monde l'a applaudie. La douleur est devenue insupportable. J'ai lutté pour rester présente, jusqu'au moment où j'ai surpris les infirmières chuchotant : « Heureusement que le docteur Zane a obtenu cette place pour Chloé. Ils disaient qu'il ne lui restait que trois jours à vivre. » Alors, pendant les soixante-douze dernières heures de ma vie, j'ai tout lâché, en silence. Quand j'ai remis à Chloé les manuscrits originaux de mes romans, dans lesquels j'avais mis toute mon âme, mon père et mon frère m'ont adressé un sourire satisfait. Quand Zane a décidé d'exaucer le vœu soi-disant ultime de Chloé en l'épousant, il m'a tendu les papiers du divorce. J'ai signé sans la moindre hésitation. Il a soupiré et m'a félicitée d'être enfin raisonnable. Et quand c'est moi qui ai poussé notre fille, Olivia, à appeler Chloé « maman », Olivia s'est exclamée que sa nouvelle maman était la meilleure. « Ne t'inquiète pas, » m'a rassurée Zane. « C'est juste pour la protéger pour l'instant. Une fois qu'elle sera partie, tout reviendra vers toi. » J'ai tout donné à Chloé, exactement comme ils le voulaient. Alors pourquoi, quand ils ont découvert que tout cela n'était qu'un mensonge abject inventé par Chloé, sont-ils venus pleurer pour ça, en disant que c'est moi qu'ils avaient toujours voulu ?
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