Chapter 5: Severing the Tumor
Tyler grabbed my forearm, his grip bruising and desperate. His face, streaked with tears and sweat, was contorted into an ugly, venomous mask of pure hatred.
“You did this out of jealousy!” Tyler hissed, spittle flying from his lips. “You always hated me! You just robbed me of my only chance at a decent life! You ruined my future! You owe me! You have to fix this!”
I stopped walking. I didn’t try to pull my arm away. I simply looked down at his hand gripping my flesh, and then I slowly raised my eyes to meet his.
The look I gave him was the same look I gave a necrotic mass on an operating table. It was clinical, detached, and utterly merciless.
“Let go of my arm,” I said, my voice so low and deadly that Tyler instinctively flinched.
“You owe me!” he repeated, though his grip loosened slightly.
“I owe you nothing,” I said. “I am a cardiothoracic surgeon, Tyler. Do you know what I do for a living?”
He stared at me, uncomprehending.
“I specialize in identifying rotting tumors, infected tissues, and necrotic masses that threaten the life of the host body,” I said, my voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “I cut them open. I excise the rot. And I throw it in the biohazard bin so the host can survive.”
I forcefully yanked my arm out of his grasp. He fell back onto his hands.
“This family,” I announced, looking at Tyler, my mother, and my father, “is a tumor. You are a toxic, rotting mass of entitlement, sexism, and lies. You have tried to drain the life out of me for thirty-two years. But the surgery is over.”
I took a step back, severing the invisible tethers that had bound me to them for my entire life.
“As of today, I am officially excising you from my life. Do not call me. Do not come to my hospital. If any of you ever attempt to contact me again, I will have security remove you. You are dead to me.”
I turned away from the wreckage of the Mercer family.
As I reached the grand doors, I felt a presence beside me. It was Elena.
She looked at me, a small, genuine smile breaking through the shock and sadness on her face. She looked lighter, as if she had just dodged a bullet. Which, in a way, she had.
“Dr. Madsen,” Elena said softly. “Care for a drink? I know a much quieter place down the street. I think I owe you a proper thank you. For saving my life. Twice.”
I looked at the woman whose heart I had repaired. I felt a profound sense of camaraderie. We were both survivors.
I smiled brightly. “I would love to, Elena. Let’s go.”
Lees verder door hieronder op de knop (VOLGENDE 》) te klikken !
