Original Norman Bates Novels & Stories

she asked, her voice a little too quick, a little too loud. Norman's eyes darted away from her, his body going rigid. He reached for a glass of water on the nightstand, his hands shaking slightly, a silent confession that he was hiding something. He knew his dirty games. He knew that he couldn’t just visit an old associate like that, especially a man who could be a threat. It was an unspoken rule in his world. Never visit a suspect.

Finally, he shifts, his shoulders dropping just an inch as he turns back to me. "How are you doing, Sienna?" he asks. His voice is low, stripped of the jagged edge it had a moment ago. "Better," I whisper, the word catching in my dry throat. "Thank you. For catching her. For everything." Norman doesn't respond right away. He walks over to the side of the bed, moving into the space Elias occupied just minutes ago. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, the weight of him shifting the bed. He looks tired, truly tired. The sharp, invincible CEO I usually see is gone, replaced by a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours.

Although she had seen many supernatural things recently when she was with Sebastian, she was still afraid of things like ghosts and spirits. "Wait." Norman suddenly interrupted them. "Whose grandson were you just talking about? Bartholomew's?" Sebastian nodded and said, "That's right. It's Bartholomew's grandson. Is there a problem?" Norman's brow furrowed tightly as he put down his cutlery. He said seriously, "Mr. Ballard, I'll be honest with you. Bartholomew and I have known each other for several years, and I know him fairly well.

I wait until I am in the middle of his office and watch as Norman stands and makes his way around his desk to stand in front of me before asking, “So, Norman, what is the news?” I shake his hand that he extends but at his touch, all I want to do is pull my hand away from his, grab his throat and rip it out. I pull in my emotions before they take too much of a hold and wait for his answer. “All her bloods came back normal…”

It was not usual to use them for direct fights. Norm had thought he could gain the upper hand with an ambush. However, his underhanded tactic did not work, and he had to face Fallon directly instead. Fallon had no time to wonder why Green Shadow Flying Sword, Norm Weber, would want him dead. A long black and white baton appeared in his hand. It was his famous weapon, Dark and Light Baton. The baton instantly expanded and elongated the moment it appeared. It became as big and thick as a pillar.

Low and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be and nothing more important than the syllables of my name. I looked up. Norman stood at the hallway entrance in his white coat, a tablet in one hand, looking exactly the way he always looked — composed, professional, and completely unfair. His brown eyes found mine immediately, and something shifted in his expression, just barely. A flicker. Gone before I could name it. He held the door open. “Come on back.” The examination room was small and too bright and smelled like rubber gloves and cold air. Norman closed the door behind us and set his tablet on the counter, scanning whatever notes the receptionist had pulled up.

In fact, I wasn't even expecting her to honor our agreement anymore, after what Valerie did at the party. I parked my car in the parking lot of Evergreen Imperial Hospital as I made my way to Doctor Norman's office. I knocked once and pushed the door open. "Good day, Mr. Astor." Norman stood up and shook my hand. "You sounded urgent. What's happening?" I asked, taking my seat. When Norman called me this morning, I had done a quick mental check of the possible reason he wanted to see me, but I couldn't find any. He cleared his throat, "First of all, I'd like to apologize once again for how things turned out with little Jason and Doctor..."

“And why exactly are you calling me personally?" “Because his employment records connect him directly to your estate, and according to our preliminary findings, the death appears suspicious.” “What are you implying?” “We’re not implying anything yet, sir. We’re investigating.” Mr. Norman sat down slowly. “What exactly happened to him?” “He suffered heavy physical trauma consistent with a fall from height.” Mr. Norman stayed silent for a second. Then— “Was he robbed?” “No sir.” “Any witnesses?” “We’re still gathering information.” Mr. Norman leaned back in his chair carefully.

“Where you able to see the doctor, sir? Bosey asked. “Oh yes Bosey, | saw the doctor. But | was informed Norman is not doing too well. | can't believe my son is in a coma, how did he come down to this? He said gesturing to Norman. After few minutes, while Bosey was listening to Norman's father explain how Norman became different, saw Norman's leg move. Bosey quickly rushed to Norman's bed. “He just moved his legs, Norman! He just moved his leg! Bosey yelled. “Doctor! Doctor!! Mandy kept a yelling, as she ran to the door. The doctors and their team stormed the room, checked on Norman's vital signs and noticed he was out of coma. "Doctor what's wrong? Norman's father asked.

Maybe there was something going on between them. He turned on the coffee pot, made a fresh hot mug, then headed upstairs. Bates hopped into the shower within minutes. Cool water splashed his body, making the hairs on his chest stretch. He lathered the soap over his skin. Soon, the water ceased, Bates stepped out of the tub, grabbed a towel to dry off. Steam fogged the bathroom as he headed toward the mirror. He ran his palm over the glass wiping away the fog. Bates appeared a big man to society, with a two hundred and ninety pound frame. He was six foot three, with a bald head in the middle, graying on the sides. His chest hairs thick, his gaze wandered to his popped belly. At only fifty-eig