Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
The professor started to say 'I love you' back, but she had already ended the call, and something inside of him turned cold, like someone walking over his grave. But instead of worrying about his own safety, he could only think of Diana.
To hell with being paranoid, the professor thought. And so he made the call, and it was why, when Diana and Magnolia arrived at the shelter, it was to find one of Damen's undercover bodyguards waiting for her by the steps.
"Alvin?"
"Good evening, Ms. Leventis. Mr. de Graaf asked that you have this." The former Marine handed her a paper bag, and inside of it was a box of surgical gloves and professional-grade face masks. "If you need anything else, please just let us know."
"Yes." Diana's voice was faint. "Thank you." Her fingers tightened its grip on the paper bag as a strange sense of foreboding squeezed her heart.
She watched Alvin walk away and a part of her wanted to call the man back, wanted to ask him take her straight home to the professor so that everything would be alright.
Oh, Saint M—-
But her prayers were interrupted, with Magnolia impatiently calling her name out, and she mentally squared her shoulders. You're just being paranoid, Di. That's all. She followed her friend inside, but her unspoken misgivings persisted, and her quiet anxiety turned into something ominous and suffocating.
A weary-looking nun came to greet them, and Diana could only nod as Magnolia made the introductions.
While the shelter had been a pleasant-looking, two-story brick house on the outside, what existed within its walls was another story. Its long and narrow hallway was cramped, with hospital beds parked on each side, all of them bearing patients that appeared either gravely ill or were already at death's door.
Seeing her bewilderment, Sister Clare explained in a low voice, "We don't have enough doctors to treat them."
"I don't understand. Doesn't St. Valentines have sufficient funding—-"
"Money has never been a problem," the nun answered curtly. "What we lack are doctors who have the necessary compassion to treat them. As you can see, this is no glamorous workplace, and when you compare it to the posh clinics they have up at the ski resorts..."
Diana couldn't speak. The professor had known, she realized painfully. He had known what she would find here, how this could endanger his health a thousand ways, and he had still let her go.
He had let her go and risk his health, just because she had whined about her stupid thesis.
She took one of the masks out, but Sister Clare started shaking her head as soon as she saw it.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Leventis. But if you were to wear that, it would...it would complicate things. It would make them think you're disgusted."
"Then I can't..." She turned to Magnolia helplessly. "The professor..."
Magnolia paled, realizing what her friend was trying to say. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Di. I didn't think. I forgot..."
"Is anything wrong?" Sister Clare asked worriedly.
"I'm sorry." Diana found herself stumbling a step back. "I h-have someone at home..." The man I love. "He's easily...I can't...I'm so sorry." She could barely breathe now, her earlier sense of foreboding having risen back to the fore, and it was now a thousand times worse. "I have to leave. I'm sorry." She turned away, tears blinding her, and promptly bumped into someone.
"I'm sor—-"
The woman interrupted her with a series of coughs, and the moment Diana felt droplets of saliva strike her face, she wanted to cry.
Paranoid, a sly voice inside of her suggested. You're just being paranoid.
But she knew better now than to believe this, knew enough that she should have just listened to her fears and go running home to him.
I'm sorry, Professor.
And now it was too late, and the Devil still wanted to play with her.
A tear slipped down Diana's cheek, and the sight had the other woman flying in a rage. "What the fuck?"
Diana's head jerked up in confusion.
"Poverty isn't contagious, bitch!"
Realizing she had been misunderstood, and that her tears had been mistaken for an expression for disgust, Diana sought to explain, stammering, "It's not what you think—-"
But the other woman simply answered by spitting on her face.
It was chaos after that, with Sister Clare and Magnolia rushing in to restrain the other woman as she went berserk and tried to claw at Diana's face. But other patients had seen what had happened, and with a snap of the Devil's fingers, she had become the face of all their frustrations.
They came at her and for her.
No, no, no.
She could only curl herself in a ball, eyes closed and lips sewn shut, enduring everything they did - the hair-pulling, the kicks to her sides, the punches to her face - she could and would withstand everything just as long...
Please, Saint M.
Just as long...
Please, Saint M.
Please.
She fought to stay conscious until she heard security break in, fought to protect herself until she was lying on a stretcher and inside the safety of an ambulance. A paramedic started asking questions, and even as she tried to answer them as best as she could, her mind was already drifting, and she found herself remembering the oddest and most painful things...