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Back Going Under Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I BIRTH
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. PART II LIFE
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. PART III DEATH
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. FORTY-SIX
  54. FORTY-SEVEN
  55. FORTY-EIGHT
  56. FORTY-NINE
  57. FIFTY
  58. FIFTY-ONE
  59. FIFTY-TWO
  60. FIFTY-THREE
  61. FIFTY-FOUR
  62. FIFTY-FIVE
  63. FIFTY-SIX
  64. FIFTY-SEVEN
  65. FIFTY-EIGHT
  66. FIFTY-NINE
  67. SIXTY
  68. EPILOGUE
  69. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  70. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

FIFTY

fifty

One week later I’m called into the operating theatre to assist with the last case of the list, a head trauma. I’d been hoping to leave work at a respectable hour to go and meet Max before his flight, but the Joker is trying to ruin my day again. He knows that calling someone in late means they’ll be stuck in theatre well into the evening. ‘Just ask for overtime,’ he says, knowing very well that I can’t.

The good news is that Dr Prince has been discharged and is deemed fit to operate again after one month. I haven’t seen him since our 2 am rendezvous on his bed at the private hospital, but I think that’s a good way to end things. It’s important to know when it’s time to leave the party.

‘You’re late,’ is the first thing the Joker says to me as I walk to the sink to start scrubbing in.

‘You called me pretty late.’ I refuse to look at him.

He makes me sick. I turn on the tap with my elbow, ignoring the fact he is standing next to me.

‘You’re not going to get very far in surgery with that kind of attitude,’ he says, starting the tedious process of washing his hands.

‘I don’t think I want to get very far in surgery anymore, thanks.’

I must have finally reached the end of my tether to be so overtly rude. I’d normally be too intimidated. I know I should tread carefully, but I’m feeling reckless. A lot has happened over the course of the year, and it’s hardened me.

He looks at me, but I continue to avoid eye contact. Picking up the nailbrush, I focus all my attention on getting the grime out from under my thumbnail.

‘You’d never make it anyway,’ he says. ‘You don’t have the right temperament.’

I don’t have the right temperament?

I turn off the tap with such force it makes a clanging sound; I actually think I might have broken it. I don’t care. I turn to face him, red swarming everywhere. I reach over and turn off his tap too so there’s no noise and it’s just the two of us.

‘Hey! What the fuck are you doing? You’re going to need to rescrub!’ He leans forward to turn the tap back on.

I reach out and block his arm with my hand. ‘Listen to me,’ I say quietly, and I’m so angry I can feel my pulse rate shooting up. ‘I know what you did. I know you were making her give you blow jobs after hours, you disgusting pig.’

All I can see is the red; it’s everywhere. In front of my eyes, in my ears, roaring through my body.