Chapter 45
forty-five
. . .
The sliding doors opened with their familiar mechanical sigh, releasing a faint gust of sterile air and disinfectant that usually settled my nerves the moment I stepped inside.
The bright lights, the sharp scent of antiseptic, the clipped voices of nurses discussing vitals or labs, these were the sounds and smells of control, of order, of the world in which I knew exactly who I was.
Except today, none of it touched me.
Instead, everything felt distant, like the hospital existed on a layer above my skin while I drifted underneath it, suspended in the lingering fervour of Remo’s touch, his dirty mouth, his sexual prowess, his impossible presence.
The clean air couldn’t wash away his scent of smoke and bodywash and the darker, intoxicating undercurrent of him.
Even the cool tile under my shoes failed to ground me; it only reminded me of how the cold shower wall felt pressed against my stomach, his body pinning mine while steam curled around us.
I walked through the corridor, my steps light, uncertain.
Several nurses greeted me with their usual brisk warmth, but all I could manage in return, was a tight nod and a forced smile.
Inside the doctors lounge, I changed into a pair of scrubs, grabbed my white coat, and shrugged into it, praying that the crisp white fabric would magically restore the boundaries I’d lost the moment Remo touched me, transform me back into Dr. Ishika Sharma. Calm, capable and steady.
But the coat felt heavy, an almost protective armour as if it sensed how fragile my grip on myself truly was right now. Stepping into Trauma one, I grabbed the chart from the rack, forcing myself to greet the fifty-something patient with a smile.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Sharma, how may I help you today?”
But my mind was a battlefield, flashes of Remo pinning me down, fucking me hard, the low cadence in his voice when he told me not to run, the terrifying, intoxicating certainty in his gaze when he said he wasn’t done with me.
With every step I took, the hallway felt narrower.
With every chart I read, the words disintegrated faster.
By ten, I fumbled a blood draw, something I hadn’t done since my first year. My hands trembled visibly, and the nurse beside me glanced up with startled concern.
“Doctor, are you alright? You look flushed.”
Flushed.
What a simple word for what had been burning under my skin since dawn. “I’m fine,” I rasped, the lie soaked in humiliation.
By eleven, I almost signed the wrong medication order and caught it only when the letters blurred and rearranged themselves into nonsensical patterns.
At noon, I walked into a supply room and forgot entirely what I went in for, staring blankly at shelves until a nurse asked what I needed and I had no answer.
Whispers followed me down the corridor, soft, puzzled, worried.
I ignored them or at least I tried to. How could I explain that my unravelling had nothing to do with fatigue or illness?
That it was because Remo’s filthy mouth had been on my throat less than twelve hours ago?
Because his hands had held me with a possessiveness that made my pulse accelerate, even now?
Because every shift of my body brought with it a reminder of the hot, hungry way he’d whispered:
“Take me deeper, little fox. Let that tight pussy squeeze my cock.”
I shut my eyes for half a breath, shunting the memory aside but pushing only brought it back sharper.
By two, I slipped into the restroom and braced my hands against the sink, bowing my head until my hair curtained my face, hiding my reflection.
Because the mirror exposed someone who looked like me but with sparkling eyes, raw lips, and undisguised tension running through her like a fault line ready to split open.
“Wake up, girl,” I scolded, splashing my face with cold water. It seemed to do the trick until I stepped outside and a voice called out behind me.
“Ishika, hey stop for a second.”
Pulling a deep breath, I plastered on a smile I didn’t feel and turned as Brandi all but barrelled into me. “Are you avoiding me,” she accused, her eyes scanning my face.
“What? No.” I shook my head too fast and her brow shot up.
“I’ve been worried sick since Remo…” she left the words hanging. My shoulders sagged and her expression immediately softened, her hand grasping mine. “Are you alright?
I swallowed, trying to tug my hand free without making a scene. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Belligerent as always, she pulled me aside. “Tired? Damn, Ish, you look like you either haven’t slept or slept with someone who ruined your spine. Did he hurt you?” she rushed on.
Heat rushed up my neck. “Brandi—”
“He kept you for almost, if not more than twenty four hours,” she hissed, keeping her voice low, “and you just stroll in here acting like it was a vacation? I called your phone all night. You didn’t answer once. What did he do to you?”
My stomach twisted, guilt mixing with something that felt dangerously close to longing. “I was safe,” I muttered, even though the word felt wrong on my tongue.
“He kidnapped you,” she repeated, voice tight. “That is the opposite of safe.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
How was I supposed to explain the impossible?
That safety had never been the issue. That the real danger wasn’t his violence, it was the way my body reacted to him, the way my breath broke under his voice, the way his dominance slid beneath my skin like something I both feared and gravitated toward.
Brandi rubbed my arm. “Ish?”
I leaned against a wall, sighing. “Nothing I didn’t…survive.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes widening in horrified realization as she saw the truth I couldn’t hide. “Oh God,” she breathed. “He raped you, didn’t he?”
Okay, not what was I expecting. “He didn’t technically rape me and I’m fine,” I lied again, but my voice wavered as I said it, betraying me.
“No, you’re not.” She checked the hallway before stepping closer. “He used and discarded you like some cheap slut and you’re barely keeping it together. If that’s not rape, what is it?”
“Well, it’s not like I can report him, can I?” I muttered, avoiding her gaze.
She frowned. “Ish, did you actually enjoy sleeping with him?”
Did I tell you just how observant Brandi was?
I relented, blurting, “He was hardcore but God, that man can fuck. Besides.” I tipped my head back, resting it on the wall, my eyes on the ceiling. “He didn’t discard me. He’s coming back tonight. Said he owned me and that frankly I could run but he’d chase me, every single time.”
Her face drained of colour. “Oh, my God. As much as some women enjoy that sort of thing, that’s not romantic. That’s a threat.”
“God, Brandi.” I shook my head, more desperation than confidence. “I just need to get through the day, okay? I need to work. I need to feel normal.”
She squeezed my arm. “Then start by breathing. He can’t walk in here and take you again. We won’t let him. I’ll tell security to let him know you’re in surgery or something.”
As if the universe heard her, my phone vibrated in my pocket at that exact moment, a soft, unmistakable buzz that ricocheted through my chest like a jolt of electricity. Fingers shaking, I pulled out the phone. Scanning the message, my laugh lacked mirth.
Unknown: Don’t run tonight!!!
I turned the phone to show Brandi and her jaw dropped. “He’s watching you?” Her eyes skirted the ceiling. “You think he’s bugged this place.”
My pulse hammered, blurring my vision for just a moment. She wasn’t wrong. Even surrounded by doctors and nurses and the numbing hum of hospital life, I felt him. Like a shadow just behind me, a hand ghosting along my spine, a presence that refused to be shaken off no matter how far I ran.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him, he’s that sick.” I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs. “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, voice barely audible.
Brandi squeezed my shoulder, tight and terrified for me. “We’ll figure something out. But promise me you won’t meet him tonight.”
I looked down at the message again. Three simple words wrapped in exclamation marks. And a terrifying truth washed through me, flooding my veins with shock.
Part of me didn’t want to.
“Come on.”
Arm looped with mine, Brandi dragged me away, robbing me of the chance to dissect what I was really feeling. Thankfully, the ER turned into chaos, keeping me distracted.
Just after six thirty, Brandi nudged me, tipping her chin at the clock. By then, I’d calmed myself enough to deal with the situation, accepting that I’d rather face the devil head on than give him the pleasure of catching me unaware.
So when the clock struck seven, I headed outside and waited on the stair like a good little girl already planning her descent into something wicked.
Only, an hour passed with no sign of Remo, not even a commanding text. Huffing, I headed home just as my phone rang. I slid it out of my scrubs’ pocket expecting Remo.
It was my uncle, advising me that my brother was ready to meet me and unknowingly giving me the perfect excuse to escape Remo, even if it were just for a few days.
Serves him right for standing me up.