I proceeded to enter Room 24, itching all over, wondering what kind of patient awaited me. Never, at any time or any moment, would I have chosen this inevitable profession—not when I was forced into it against my will. As if I even get paid enough to make a decent living.
I opened the door, only to be met with the sight of the one person I loathed most.
Out of all the people I could have been assigned to, it had to be the vile old man.
Atrocious.
Degenerate.
A SCOUNDREL.
My head flooded with a multitude of insults and snarky remarks, all lined up and ready to go—except I probably wouldn't say them to the old man's face. I'd rather treat someone with diarrhea. How can he not see that I don't need him here? And, of course, he's back to run his mouth.
I grumbled under my breath, my irritation so thick it nearly strangled me. Just the sight of him made my skin crawl. Nobody—absolutely nobody—could ever understand just how much I despise this man with a single glance. Who is this geezer?
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, struggling to keep my hands behind me. My appearance seems to grow paler by the day. If it weren't for the birth certificate, I'm sure homicide wouldn't even be a question.
"Ah, my favorite person." The old man's tone sounded in a bit of a mocking way. Negatively.
Disgusting, the voice immediately spoke from inside my head. Those words from the old man are like coal to a steam train's engine.
The heavens must hate me if they keep making me take a peep of his stupid ass. That's what I thought once I took another glance.
"You've been working so hard lately, hm?" When did I? I could only clench my fists. "I didn't come here for small talk. Especially from you." My mouth couldn't hold back anymore.
"I wouldn't want to neglect being your superior. Aren't you ecstatic that I am visiting you?" A sly grin escapes the old man.
Neglect, my ass. Big word. I'd rather you say farewell.
"Besides, you'll take over me someday. Isn't it nice to have this all on your own? As chief executive officer of the Langlois hospital department and your father, you have a clear idea of what's gonna happen in the future." I felt an insolent pat on my shoulder from the guy. There was a slight glint in his eyes when he realized just how much control he had over me. As the obligatory apprentice of a nurse, I doubted this toxicity would ever end.
It's unfair.
This prick is getting on my nerves once more.
"We can talk another time. I'm busy. I should tend to my work as you wish." I was about to step away and exit the room when the old man stopped me, his brows furrowing. His cheery facade quickly shifted, revealing its true colors. He made sure to keep the door closed before turning to frown at me.
"Nico."
My eyes widen in disbelief. No way he just said that to me. It's forbidden.
"Don't call me that."
The old man got more furious.
"How are you this stubborn? You accepted this profession I gave you, therefore, you need to listen to me. You should be grateful you even have a job, rather than lying around in that cheapjack apartment of yours." He claims, tone raised.
I could only let out a scoff. Day and night, I was exhausted, and my problems only kept piling up with every argument I had with my own blood. I didn't want to do this. If it were possible, I wished the floor would just swallow me whole.
I sat back down with no choice but to listen mannerly.
"Fine. We'll talk." Music to the old man's ears. "But don't expect me to act tenderly with you."
"Oh, please." The elderly man remained unfazed. "As long as I have your approval, I'll be fine."
This is why I don't like him. He acts as if he cares about my well-being... when clearly, he despises me whenever I don't do what he desires.
For the time being, I had to endure every single nagging I could hear from the old man, going on and on about how I should be displayed in the department.
Nurse manager.. medical director... department director-
No! I won't do shit!
I hate him. I hate him.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
I hate him.
I never liked the old man's muddled ideas, of pride and ego. He'd retire and then what? Smooch off the money I'm gonna make?
"Don't you think it's unfair for others who work harder than me in this department for only me to be promoted? Because I'm related to you?" I had an urge to vomit with my own words.
"Well, I am your father. I can do whatever I want." It is that easy for him. I know that. And I have a great aversion to that word he just mentioned. I never really use it to address him.
"What would they think of me?"
The old man went silent, refusing to respond. Changing the subject, "It doesn't matter. They'd have to go through me. Besides, don't you want me to be proud? You are my only child after all."
I roll my eyes visibly.
"Look, it's the break of day. I haven't had much sleep. Let me go for now. I get what you're saying, but honestly, it's bullshit. Others are better suited for the positions. You know I never asked for this, right?"
"That's right." The old man immediately responded. "You didn't. For me. But you did it for him, didn't you? Both you and Abigail."
With those words, I burst through the exit, anger fueling me. I stomp through the hallways, a ringing in my head. I've had enough. My body starts moving on its own. Everyone stares at me, stepping aside as if I might punch someone if they get in my way.
Before I even realized it, I was already standing in front of the railings of the balcony outside the building, on the 4th floor. My breath came in heavy, uneven gasps as if I was losing control of myself. My hands gripped the cold metal, its icy touch swallowing the warmth of my skin.
Calling out to me...
"I'm sorry."
Notwithstanding, my co-worker pulls me aside and tosses me to the ground with immense force, showing no mercy anywise. My skin scrapes against the rough cement, stinging from the impact.
"That won't justify anything, Nicholas." The smell of smoke overcomes my nose, snapping me back to my senses. I see Abigail, my most trusted co-worker and friend, standing near the rail with a half-burnt cigarette in her hand.
"How... how did you know I was here?"
The woman tilted her head. "Someone told me you were charging through the place like a bull chasing a red cloth. I had to know where you're headed. And then I saw you about to.." She stops in exasperation. "They probably knew that you would listen to me. That's why they told me."
A long silence.
"But anyways, don't do it again. What were you thinking? Were you having problems with that psycho like always?" This woman always reads right through me.
I pick myself up first before replying in a low tone. "Yeah."
"No wonder," Abigail uttered apathetically. She looks to a distance and smokes anew. Her legs crossed. "So he's back to haunt you."
"He always does. Thought he'd rot in New York." Dusting myself off, I stand next to Abigail. "Do you hate that man too?"
"Not particularly. You can't expect me to feel sympathetic with family matters. But I'm willing to listen." Such an orphan response. Abigail turns his head towards me, trying to supply me with a cigarette from the box after speaking. "It's not your fault though."
"I'm not blaming myself."
Abigail shrugs and insists, pressing the cigarette into my hand. "Smoke." Nicholas soughs. She believes it reduces stress.
It's ironic. We're both nurses, yet we take care of ourselves poorly.
Abigail had been with me since high school. And she never changed. She was still the most neutral person I knew. The only thing she ever did was sacrifice her dream to stay by my side in my misery, thinking I might be dependent on her. And because I had to. But in the end, it made sense. If it weren't for her, I would've ended my life right here, right now.
Smoking? I learned it because of her too. It seems like if we go down, we'll go down together. To everyone else, our relationship must look like a complete mess. The smoke from our cigarettes consumed the once-healthy air, suffocating whatever was left of it.
"Abby?"
"Yeah?"
I collect myself.
"Are you happy here?"
Abigail stared down at the floor blankly. "Yes, I'm quite... happy."
That's when I knew what she said was a lie. She wouldn't make that delay if it was the truth. I just frowned a bit, not wanting to point it out.
We're both miserable.