YEARS OF PRACTICE and her hands still shook.
Brain Tumor. Craniotomy. Skull base surgery.
Making a small skin incision on the bald scalp of a fourty-five year old George Furham, Dronian lifted skin, subcutaneous layers and muscle off bone and peeled it back. A week before, Furham had undergone several tests including electrocardiogram and chest X-ray. Consent forms were signed, paperwork completed and his medical history (allergies, previous surgeries, anesthesia reactions) was investigated.
Earlier, Sreya had gone forward with the common administration of general anaesthesia. Once asleep, his head was placed in a 3-pin skull fixation device, which was ceremoniously attached to the table and held his head in position for the procedure. Also, a lumbar drain aiding the removal of cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) was inserted in the patient's lower back. This allowed the patients brain to relax during the entire procedure.
5 Aminolevulinic Acid, 5-ALA, was th
FACIAL EXPRESSION GIVING absolutely nothing away, Xaver spoke, cyan eyes blazing with unbearable heat it scorched her, "Fine. You want to know what I want? I want to tug your hair loose from its ponytail and bury my fingers in your curls as I teach you how to submit to me with your tongue. I want to bring you chocolate as brown as your eyes in bed and feed you strawberries with my mouth. I want to have random sex in dusty storerooms while the cleaner does laundry in the next room. I want to watch you writhe and buck beneath me before you come"Sweet Jesus. Sreya was drenched. She'd sat very still when he'd begun talking and now she didn't dare move. Her core throbbed as painfully vivid pictures painted by his words flipped through her brain like a picture album. Needing to ease herself a little, Sre pressed her legs together lightly, clenching her thighs as sharp pleasure stabbed her lower belly. The action had her drawing a sharp breath, her breathing qui
STEAM. SKIN. WATER.The shower is the best place to think. Except you're not privileged with the delicacy of choosing your own thoughts. It's like your brain doles out the worst scenarios. Placing it front of the slide on purpose just to torment you and right now, as scenes of Sre and Xaver's car porno flashed through her mind, she doubted if a jab from Lucifer's pitchfork on her arm would sting as much as her thoughts did.Sighing, Sreya turned off the water and grabbed a towel, proceeding to wipe her damp flesh dry. Threading barefoot, she walked the short distance from the bathroom to her bed and was about to curl herself beneath her duvet when she heard a crashing noise downstairs. Loud enough to scare her. Loud enough to stir her neighbour's cat.Grabbing her red robe, she sheathed her naked body and snatched the hockey stick behind her bedroom door. She'd forgotten to put it in the store room and was glad she hadn't.
A geriatric leaking ceiling. Rusty water pipes. Religious wallpapers. Hanging crucifixes. A small Bible with yellowed pages. A handmade crown of thorns. Dim candles. The stagnant smell of bleach, lust and charred flesh. A now empty table where the last victim had been housed...A woman's throaty moans pierced the air. A man's deep grunts reverberated, balancing the woman's shrill pleas, levelling her gasps. The religious fanatic was touching himself now. His sharp eyes trained on the video playing on his desktop as his calloused palms stroked his engorged member with vigour. His grotesque pale skin, marred with scars the number of stars was coated in sweat that seemed to catch the light from the candles and sparkle. She'd been distracted. They'd been in the kitchen. He'd set the cameras. Now he watched.He watch
"SO HE'S ENGAGED"Sreya groaned loudly as she buried her face in her palms. She already felt bad and her mom's disapproving glare wasn't helping."Ugh. I know, I know. He's taken. But I didn't mean for it to happen...."Freya shot her daughter a look, "I know you, Sreya. You don't do something unless you want to".They were seated across each other in the kitchen. A pouting Sreya in her signature red robe, black curls tousled and wild. Her elbows were propped up on the counter, shoulders drooping as Freya voiced her disapproval. She looked like a ten year old at a candy store being told she can't have any candy.Then quietly, "Okay, I wanted to, but—"Her mother raised a manicured finger, "Tah tah tah tah tah. No buts. You're better than that. Just because you have a thing for Ice cream doesn't mean you should lick them all just because they breathe and smell nice. Have a corn chip instead".Sreya made a whiny sound.
GLASS CYAN EYES watched slender fingers turn the leaves of a book; once.Twice.Thrice.The cool blue orbs ceased their study of the phalanges and moved on to the slim soft arch that denoted the wrist, down the forearm, arm, the sheathed curve of the shoulder girdle, neck and then the facial muscles of their owner.Thick mass of curly jet-black hair was pulled up in a messy bun with stray curls framing a soft angular face. Forehead creased into a frown, chocolate brown eyes stayed glued to a creamy coloured page, its words filtered through slightly large reading glasses slipping down to rest on the bridge of its owner's nose.Xaver wondered how anyone could look so fucking beautiful by 9 in the morning."Adding 'laxity' to Sreya Dronian's long list of fascinating attributes. Check", he announced loudly.Unceremoniously startled, Sre's body jerked , the act
SREYA FELT XAVER hesistate, his unwavering gaze holding hers.Steeling herself, she straigtened her spine and gave him the 'go ahead' look."A conversation about Crystal wasn't want I intended when I accepted your offer for coffee, Dronian"."But she's a conversation I want to have right now. So", She shrugged."Fine". He leaned back from the counter, folding his arms in front of him whilst looking her straight in the eye. "She's my fiancée. A fact, I'm guessing, you're already aware of"."How did you guys meet?""Our families set up a date".Everyone knew the Kirkgarde's thrived from arranged marriages."When?""When I was 18"."Did you like her then?"He paused, as if thinking about it for the first time, "No"."Do you like her now?"No h
A ONE HOUR dance practice for the wedding. And Xaver wasn't the least bit interested yet his Black Bugatti was smoothly pulling up in the parking lot.Passing through the entrance to the building, he tugged his tie loose and made quick work of removing his suit jacket, the frown on his forehead deepening a notch. Might as well get shit done with.The building was as large as a warehouse with the inscription "R. Dargenti Studio" boldly suspended above. The walls were a warm mix of nude and a deep brown. The Dargentis were as influential as they were Proud. Just like the Kirkgardes, their's was old money. A family business started years ago when Rosita Dargenti, a single mother of two, broke and helpless, discovered her love for dancing and choreography. An art which her children and those after them also seemed to take an interest to. I mean, who wouldn't when they were making that much bank.The Dargenti
SREYA CLOSED HER eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart was racing and she had a thick lump in her throat. Fisting her hands, she fought the urge to hit something.Standing in the theatre with a few doctors, Sre ignored the fact that everyone was staring at her, the silence from the heart monitor a steady reminder that they'd lost the patient. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, she began to pull her blood-stained gloves off and muttered a weak, "Cover him up".As she made quick work of washing her hands, she thought of the best way to tell the patient's wife that they couldn't save her husband. This was the most draining part of her job..having to announce a loved one's death. Lost in her thoughts, Sreya hadn't noticed Brenda Morgan's — a co-worker and friend— presence behind her.
"HOW MANY TIMES a day do pregnant women have mood swings?" Xaver inquired as he loosened the death grip his black tie had on his windpipes. Currently, he was seated in his car, outside his residence. The golden face that filled his screen frowned, "A gazillion times, why?" Xaver ignored her question, "Causes?" She lifted her thumb as she began to count, "Fatigue, anxiety, little to no sleep, hormones, et cetera" Xaver frowned. His wife wasn't anxious or sleep deprived so it must be the hormones? Or fatigue because she's always tired these days. "Any remedies for fast results?" Dinah wasted no time, "Exercise. Sweets. Stifling attention. Amazing foot rubs and body massages" Exercise. Check. Stifling attention. Check. Amazing foot rubs and body massages. Check. Sweets... Sounded like a bad idea. He's actually been m
{Freedom}XAVER'S CARE FOR speed limits flew out the window as he sped down tarred road, wheels racing towards John Bernards Hospital.He'd been working up a sweat in the gym when he'd gotten a call that Sreya was in the hospital, alive but unconcious. A humongous wave of icy relief had washed over him from head to toe, cooling his agitated mind and frantic nerves. He hadn't even bothered to take a shower, he'd only pulled a black shirt over his head and threw on jeans before running to his car. At least she was alive, she was all right... But was her mind okay? Would she be strong enough to pull through the trauma a second time? Will her heart be brave enough to heal like it'd done once?
IN THE IMMURING darkness, the private detective took an incredibly long drag of his cigar, upper eyelids drifting close as he felt the smoke heat his lungs and sheath his whole body in a buzzing satisfactory warmth.Sitting in his aweary Toyota, Gary ignored the harsh bite of the incredibly cold air on his nose and cheeks as he warmed his body from within. Gazing outside his window, he let his eyes roam the abandoned, crumbling building that had once been a mental asylum.The towering, desolate edifice illuminated by the faint, silver beams of the moon seemed ghostlier and more haunting than Gary remembered. As a long trail of dark smoke from his cigar ascended towards the pitch-black sky, he recalled the little he'd read about the deinstitutionalization of the yawning, tardily disintegrating building before him.Years ago, on a date that eluded him—Gary wasn't good with dates—th
Abused*:*Three weeks... It's been three weeks. Sreya's been counting. Every part of her exposed flesh was submerged in excruciating pain, so much so that it hurt to breathe. She felt weak and terribly drowsy.. As though, with each day that passed, she drew closer and closer to the stygian, dark gates of death. On some days, she came so close she could smell the rusty metal and taste it if she dared stick out her tongue.. But on days like this.. She realized that as much as she'd love to ecstaticly welcome her demise and surcease her suffering, she still had memories of Xaver, the girls and her family to keep her strong. She missed them so much and there was literally nothing she won't give to be with them at this moment. In the silence, the shrill
GARY HUTCHINSON LOOKED round his office with tired eyes and stifled a yawn. It was 8:37PM on a Thursday night and he was beyond exhausted. On some days, being a private investigator left you with some time on your hands.. On other days.. It didn't.Absentmindedly, he reached for the tumbler sitting beside his open laptop, swirling the yellowish liquid inside as he studied the picture of the young woman in front of him.Sreya Dronian. The Kirkgardes were willing to pay triple the price he'd normally charge if he could find her presto. The relationship between the doctor and the only heir to the Kirkgarde family fortune and business was roaringly overt and owing to this, their desperation failed to spark his surprise.Also, he wanted that money as much as he wanted to visit one of the best brothels in Verum City and soak himself inside a warm, willing body. Normally, Gary schedules his vis
PunishedΔ•ΔHe was... furious. Sreya could tell. From the sharp whooshing sounds of the whip slashing through the air, the explosive stinging, itchy sensation on her back and her broken flesh tinged with blood... She could tell.The candles were burning low again, casting scary silhouettes on the walls like they usually do. Through bloodshot eyes, she could make out series of ropes hanging on the wall..some, a little thinner than the others.. Sreya thought they bore an uncanny resemblance to BDSM tools.
LUCAS WAS LOST in thought, the paperwork on his desk already forgotten. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that Clara'd come in wearing a flimsy robe with nothing beneath or if it was her sexual, intoxicating scent that still lingered but he found himself on a trip down memory lane.They used to be so happy. So content. It'd been a hassle getting someone as terribly strong-minded as Clara to trust him fully but he'd succeeded and it'd been bliss.. A part of him still harbored hope that someday.. They'd be as happy as they'd once been but with every passing month that his wife barely glanced at him unless under public scrutinization.. Lucas watched the tiny ray of the light of hope at the end of the tunnel dim. Suddenly realizing he wasn't alone, blue eyes shifted to the door and he could swear his heartbeat picked up
CLARA KIRKGARDE LISTENED to the audible, oddly calming pitter-patter of raindrops on the windows as she proceeded to gently apply a layer of moisturizing lotion on her face.She was currently seated in front of her vanity, grey eyes trained on the mirror as slender hands made quick work of running a shiny paddle brush over her hair. When she was done, she dropped the hair detangler on the dressing table and embarked on the short journey to her bed. Relieving her naked flesh of the rose gold robe she'd been clad in, she shimmied under an immaculate white duvet and sighed in pleasure at the enveloping warmth and soothing softness. She yawned tiredly, eyelids slamming shut as she tried to sleep..But slumber evaded her and In less than a nanosecond, her mind
A WEEK AND a half.That's how long Sreya's been missing. That's how long he hasn't left his house. That's how long he hasn't shaved. That's how long he's not been answering calls or text messages. That's how long he's been.. Drinking.He looked like shit. And felt like shit.Dazed, he slowly swirled the golden liquid in his tumbler. Now, usually.. Xaver'd never turn to liquor whilst grieving. Matter of fact, it annoyed him when people did that but... You know when you're told never to judge other people until you've been in their position? Until you've walked in their shoes? You really shouldn't. Because.. He now understood why people turned to liquor. It kinda helps with the pain.. Numb it a little... Or it makes you think it's helping your pain.. And he needed that deception right now. Badly.His lips curling into a sad small smile, h