The Clinic Novels & Stories

I dread to think what he would do if he knew. The clinic is about halfway up the Pack’s mountainside road; it's a sizeable building that has been built into the mountain itself. I’ve never been here before but I’ve ridden past it on my bike several times. It looks light and airy compared to the dark stone building that my last Pack had and the staff dressed in scrubs out front always seem to be happy and smiling while chatting about one thing or another.

The Silverlake Clinic is nice. I want to be very clear that the Silverlake Clinic is a nice place. It is on Sunset, between a coffee shop and a plant store, in one of those gently gentrified buildings with mid-century lighting and a small fountain in the lobby. The PT rooms have windows. The resistance bands come in colours. The front desk woman calls me "sweetie" and offers me a hot tea from a real kettle, which is something Cedars-Sinai has never once offered me in seven weeks of being a patient.

I hailed a cab and gave him the direction of the clinic, When I reached the Clinic it was fully packed with patients. Most of them were pregnant women and their husbands or boyfriends. I felt alone among them. I slowly walked to the receptionist. "Hello, Miss, how can I help you?" said the receptionist with a genuine smile. "I had an appointment with Doctor Safian. Can you please check it for me?" I requested her. "Sure, your name?" she asked looking at her computer. "Kylie Johnson," I spelled my name to her. She searched through her computer and turned back to me with a sad smile.

Plainly, Gianna asked, “And they want to come here? To this clinic? You’re absolutely sure?” “I asked them,” Angelo said with a nod. “And I made sure that I was clear about the status of the clinic at the moment. I said the clinic is going to grow, it’s going to get better, and it’s going to be something magnificent, but right now, it’s a work in progress. If they’re agreeing to this, they’re going to spend the next year with limited resources.” For someone who’d previously been in plastics, and an ER doctor, the clinic couldn’t be that appealing.

The clinic buzzed with the gentle hum of healers attending to patients, the soothing rhythm of their work a soothing backdrop to the reunion. As I took a moment to look around, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this place. The clinic was not just a building; it was a sanctuary where lives were healed and friendships were formed. The knowledge that I had a role to play in this tapestry of care and compassion filled me with a deep sense of contentment.

No electronic traces. Just Carina Sanz anonymous, invisible. The car slowed to a stop outside the small, exclusive clinic tucked between embassy buildings. We chose it for its strict patient privacy policy cash payments only, no ID scanning. "I’ll wait here," Manang said, squeezing my hand. "Just call if you need me." I nodded and stepped out. Inside, the clinic smelled of antiseptic and lavender. Soft music played from hidden speakers. The receptionist greeted me warmly and handed me a clipboard.

Just like that I got a job like it's nothing. Is this how life works for normal people?* I wondered. Or just for people with brothers who can do anything for you? The clinic wasn't what I expected. From the name, I thought it would be small, maybe a little run-down. But the building in front of me was modern, with big windows and a neat garden out front. The sign was simple but elegant: "Westside Clinic - Healing Minds, Restoring Lives." I took a deep breath and walked through the automatic doors. The inside was even nicer—clean white walls, comfortable-looking chairs in the waiting area, and plants everywhere. It smelled good too, like lemons and something fr

I had no idea how much walking distance we were to the clinic so it only made this blind trip even more intense. ~~~~~ The clinic looked like a motel. That was the first thing that came to my notice. It had a striking resemblance to an old motel that was seen at the outskirts of the pack. There were no cars parked in front signifying any liable customers present and there was no exact entry point labeled. “This can't be right…” Shedrack was the first to voice his worries.

he asked my father, and my father cleared his throat. "We try to pride ourselves in Woodclaw City that we have the best of the best, but that is not true. This clinic, or home as they put it, specialises in special needs children. They have a specialist in every field and the equipment needed for the job. The environment is more country-like. It is serene and calm. Excellent for the child's development," my father explained.

ISLA POV The clinic was nothing like a real hospital. It was a private facility on the edge of the city hidden behind a row of old warehouses and accessed through a narrow alley that most people would miss. The sign above the door read Wellington Medical in faded gold letters but there was no emergency room, no waiting area, no bright lights or bustling nurses. Kai had made the call the night we arrived pulling strings with an old contact who owed him a favor. The doctor who met us at the door was a thin man in his sixties with steady hands and tired eyes. He didn't ask questions. He just looked at Adrian's pale face and the blood soaking through my fingers an