Chloe's POV
The wind howled through the car, its icy bite seeping into my skin despite the heater's valiant efforts. I shivered, goosebumps rising on my arms as the steady beep of the radio echoed through the night. My hand trembled as I gripped the steering wheel, a mix of nerves and determination coursing through my veins. I reached for my purse, searching for a comforting distraction. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke enveloped me as I lit up, the cloud stinging my eyes. But it wasn't just the smoke – a mix of emotions and unease lingered in the air.
Matt's name still lingered in my mind, etched in my heart like the others. Sarah Sabrio, Rowan Johnson, Quin Smith... The weight of regret settled heavily on my shoulders, a burden I couldn't shake. Thoughts raced through my mind, replaying the events over and over, searching for any missed opportunity. Maybe I should have rejected the shift, I thought, guilt tugging at my conscience. Dr. Paige had begged me to cover, explaining her family emergency. I couldn't turn her down, but saying yes led me down this twisted path.
As I stared ahead at the road, my mind drifted to the moments before it all went wrong. The hospital corridors bustled with activity, the air thick with antiseptic. Matt's face flashed in my memory, haunting me. The radio played a melancholic tune, accentuating the heaviness in my heart. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the pavement.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles white, trying to hold onto something amidst the chaos. It was too late for regrets now; I had to focus on the present, on finding a way to make things right. But there was no way to make things right, the patient is dead.
The road stretched out before me, a path filled with uncertainty and unanswered questions. I had looked through the patient's chart – he was doing well after the car accident, until he suddenly died. I felt like I missed something, like I did something wrong.
I groaned, hitting the wheel repeatedly. "I should have done more..."
All I yearned for was the comfort of a long bath, the warm water soothing away the day's events. The ritual of sipping red wine straight from the bottle had become my refuge, a release after a patient's death. I needed it more than ever now, and nothing could get in the way. I took a deep breath, the familiar craving washing over me.
As I entered my house, the familiar surroundings immediately put me at ease. I headed straight for the kitchen, dropping my purse on the couch without a second thought. My mini bar beckoned, and took out a bootle of my favorite wine.
The first sip was like a warm embrace, spreading through my body and melting away the stress of the day. I savored the taste, a perfect blend of sweet and tart, and felt my muscles relax. The wine was like a soothing balm, calming my mind and body.
As I stood there, I noticed the sunset outside, painting the sky with vibrant shades of pink, orange, and violet. The colors seemed to dance across the horizon, creating a masterpiece of light and shadow. I felt myself unwind even further, letting go of the worries that had plagued me all day.
But as I turned to head upstairs, I heard a noise that made my heart skip a beat. I froze, my instincts on high alert, and scanned the room for any sign of movement. I realized I had forgotten to turn on the light, and the dimness made me feel uneasy. I flicked on the switch, bathing the room in a harsh, fluorescent glow. The space was empty, just as I had left it, but the noise lingered in my mind.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, telling myself it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. But the feeling of unease persisted, and I couldn't shake the sense that something was off. I took another long swig of wine, feeling the liquid spread through my body. If I was going to imagine things, I might as well be drunk enough to forget my guilt.
As I made my way upstairs, the noise sounded again, closer this time.
I called out, "Hello?" before realizing it was a bad idea. If there was an intruder, I should be looking for a way to defend myself, not announcing my presence. I glanced at the bottle in my hand, but I knew it wouldn't make a good weapon. I stood still, listening intently, my heart pounding in my chest. The noise sounded like it was coming from my bedroom, and I felt a surge of fear. I slowly placed the bottle on the floor, praying it wouldn't spill on the carpet. The noise sounded again, and I knew I had to face whatever was making it.
My eyes caught movement and it was gone in a blink, but it was enough to make me paralyzed with fear, my eyes fixed on the shadowy figure moving across the wall. My heart raced, pounding in my throat, as I struggled to breathe.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I felt my hair stand on end. I was trapped, unable to move or speak. The oak cabinet, with my loaded gun, seemed miles away. Running downstairs was a risky option, especially in my stilettos. I was trapped, and every second counted.
I took a deep breath and tried to clear my head.
"W...who are you?" I stammered, my voice barely audible.
The voice behind me chuckled, its hoarse tone sending shivers down my spine. "Now the question should be... who are you, doctor?" it said, its breath hot against my ear.
Panic set in. Was it HIM. The person I'd been trying to forget for seven years.
"How did you find me?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"It wasn't hard," the voice replied, amusement lacing its tone. "I've been following your every move."
Fear and anger wrestled inside me as I asked, "W-who sent you?" The voice didn't respond, instead pressing a cold metal against my shoulder. I whimpered, feeling my knees weaken at the thought of the gun going off.
"I think that should be my line," it said, its breath on my neck.
I tried to find my voice, but it was lost in my throat. The metal pressed harder, and I felt my resolve crumbling.
"I'll ask you again," the voice said, its tone low and menacing. "Who sent you?"
My mind raced, but I couldn't think of an answer.