❂ 1st Place in the Realist Awards 2017
❂ Knight of the Dreamers Awards 2017
!Warning!
Contains:
❂ Violence
❂ Sexual Content
❂ Mild Use of Adult Language
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
"Sometimes being crazy isn't such a ba...
Hey guys, just a little heads up. Wherever you see 'Dr. Philips' in italics, that emphasizes its feign nature - James' false identify.
Hope this clears up any confusion. Do enjoy! ____________________________________
Ops! Esta imagem não segue as nossas directrizes de conteúdo. Para continuares a publicar, por favor, remova-a ou carrega uma imagem diferente.
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
The next morning I wake up early, waiting for Mark to arrive. The clock hanging on the wall directly opposite me says 7:00. A knock comes from the door and it opens slightly as my face lights up and I sit up.
"Good morning." The voice of James reaches my ears as he enters the room and closes the door. I frown for a moment (because it's not Mark), but I quickly smile as Dr. Philips makes his way over to my bed.
"Good morning," I reply. "What are you doing here so early?"
"I just wanted to check on you before I begin 'working'." He kisses me on my lips before sitting on the bed. "Slept well?"
"Well, aside from the hardness of this bed, the uncomfortable material this sheet is made with, and the fluctuation of the temperature in this room...I slept just fine." We both laugh at my comments until another knock comes from the door.
"Are you expecting someone?" James asks with a frown, getting up from the bed when the door opens. Mark strolls in carrying a tray with my breakfast, and he is wearing grey scrubs today.
"Sorry to intrude," he says, stopping when he notices James - Dr. Philips to him - standing beside my bed. "I...uh...just brought you your breakfast, Erica."
James gives Mark a quizzical look before asking me, "This early?"
"Uh, yeah, I told him to bring my breakfast early today. I tend to get a bit hungry." There is a waver in my voice as I lie to James, but nevertheless, I had to put something out there.
"You know him?" James furrows his brows even more.
"He's my caregiver. We met yesterday when he brought me my dinner," I reply feebly.
"And we spoke for a bit, too," Mark adds. I pinch the space between my eyes and look at him, shaking my head. He didn't need to know that. But who can blame him? He doesn't know that this Dr. Philips is actually my psychotic, possessive, obsessive husband, James.
"You must be Dr. Philips," Mark continues. "I've heard a lot about you and have seen some of your pictures; you do miraculous and spontaneous work, by the way," he says, walking over and shaking my husband's hand after setting the tray down on the tray-table. "I'm Mark, and as your patient said, I'm her caregiver." He squints at James a little. "Funny, you don't look the same as I remember from the pictures, though; but at the same time, you look so familiar, like someone I saw on the television recently. I think it was the news or something, not sure."
Oh no! What if Mark sees right through James' disguise? That wouldn't be too nice!
"That's highly specific of you. I had some work done," James says. He rubs his fake face before looking at his watch, and then says, "If you'll excuse me...I have to be going." And then he rushes out of the room without saying anything to me but gives me a death glare from the door as he closes it. My heart skips a beat and plummets to the ground as a chill shoots down my spine.
"What was that all about?" Mark asks as he takes a seat in his favourite chair on my left.
"It was nothing. Don't worry about it," I say. Worry. Worry about it and get the hell as far away from here as possible. I look at the oatmeal porridge letting off steam from the bowl in front of me. It looks delicious, as I haven't had oatmeal porridge in a while. "The doctor was just checking up on me."
"Oh, okay. So, did you sleep well?"
"Yeah, the bed was a bit uncomfortable, but it's not something I can't manage." I pick up the spoon resting in the tray and scoop up some of the porridge, blowing on it before eating. As soon as I taste the porridge, I spit it back out in the bowl. "What the hell is this?!" I ask in annoyance.
Mark jumps up from the chair and backs away a little. "It's porridge. You don't like it?"
"This tastes like shit!"
He stares at me and after he blinks a few times, he just bursts into laughter. "You're the first patient that's been honest enough to say something like that about hospital food."
I laugh a little after glaring at him for bringing me a horrible-tasting breakfast. "I don't want this," I say, pushing away the tray. "If they wanted to kill me so badly, why didn't they just send Jam--I mean..." I laugh nervously, letting my question fall.
He continues to chuckle as he picks up the tray of shit. "I'll go and get real food for you, okay? I'll be back in a jiffy," he says, leaving me in the room.
A few minutes later, the door opens and my parents and siblings enter, all of them with smiles on their faces. I had no idea visiting hours started this early - at 7:15 a.m.
♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧
So, this chapter's a bit short. It wasn't intended to be, but I did it so that I could make a longer A/N. (Don't kill me, please!)😅😀
Okay, I've been working on another cover for S.S., and decided that I'll put it up for one week. I'll release it with the next update, and if you guys like it, I'll keep that cover until the end of the book. If not, I'll just keep the old one. 😊
Who's excited to see the new cover? 😃
Also, these are the last of my shoutouts, but if you'd like me to shoutout someone (regardless of whether they read this book or not), leave an in-line comment. →
