Love For Hire

Chapter 35: 35

Nichols could hear the steady beat of the heart monitor in the room with him. He knew he was in a hospital. “Motherfucker,” he growled. He recalled the moment he knew he was finally dying, and now he finds himself in a hospital hooked up to monitors and, from the feel of his hand and IV of some sort. He had specifically signed an order forbidding this. He was furious, and someone was going to pay dearly for this.

Nicholas felt around until he found the call button. When he finally had the button in his hand, he pressed the end. A few moments later, he heard footsteps enter the room. “So nice to find you awake,” he heard a familiar voice. Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“Dr. Horton, you answer call bells now?” He asked with annoyance.

“Only for my special patients. Actually, I was filling out some paperwork when I heard your call bell go off. I thought I would come to see how you are doing. I must say, though, your vital signs are very good. It is very promising.”

“What am I doing here?” He demanded. “I specifically stated, do not resuscitate. You signed it. You went against a legally binding document. I could have your medical licence revoked,” Nicholas growled.

“Nicholas,” he heard his mother’s voice as more footsteps entered the room. It was more than one person. It sounded like a group. “You are awake. How wonderful.”

“Why am I here!” He yelled, pissed off that he was still in this world.

“Nicholas, give us a moment to explain,” he heard Samuel say. “It was my decision to revive you. Dr. Horton called at the last minute to say he has had a breakthrough in his research.”

Nicholas did not know what to say. Was it true, and if so, just what kind of progress had he made. “What exactly do you mean by progress?”

“It is not a cure,” Dr. Horton said, right off. “However, we have found a drug therapy that will manage and keep the disorder in check.”

“In check?”

“Yes, Nicholas. It is not a cure, but so long as you take one injection a day, you will live a long and normal life,” he could hear the pride and joy in the doctor’s voice.

“But, I will still be like this blind and immobile.”

“Well, with this medication and some rehabilitation and physiotherapy, you should be able to regain the use in your legs once more, and once you have some time to heal from the arsenic poisoning and build up a reserve of the medication in your body, it may reverse some of the other problems, but there is no promise. But still, it is a life.”

“How long will it take to recover from the arsenic poisoning?”

That usually depends on the level of arsenic in the body. With your levels, I would say 6 to 12 months,” that was a long time. “So I know we went against your wishes, but with this new information, perhaps you may change your mind and be willing to try one last therapy.”

“Are you sure about this new drug?”

“The research thus far has proven extremely promising.”

“And the side effects?”

“Minor. It is perfectly safe. Will you give your consent?”

He might as well. Even if he did not consent, he had a feeling his family would inject him while he slept. For some reason, no one cared about his wishes. “Fine, but this is the last treatment I will do. If it fails,

you leave me to die.”

“Fair enough,” Samuel said.

“I would like to send you to the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago. It is the best physical rehabilitation program in the country. If anyone can help you put yourself back together again, it is the team in Chicago,” Dr. Horton said. “You would, of course, have to set up residency there. You could pay to stay in the hospital, but the accommodations are not what you are used to.”

“I shall make the arraignments,” Naya said. “We will find you a suitable place to live.”

“If you are willing to go, I will call ahead and set up your intake and get your therapy rolling.”

“When would I have to leave?”

“I can have you on a chopper and in Chicago in two days,” Dr. Horton informed him. “Are you willing to go?”

Nicholas thought about his answer. If this drug worked and he had a shot at a real-life, it would be terrible for him to be stuck in a wheelchair if he had the chance to get back on his own two feet. “I will go,” he promised.

“I will make the arraignments,” Dr. Horton told him.

“Where is Kinsley?” He asked.

The room went quiet. “She stayed until she knew you were going to alright,” Teegan spoke. “Once she knew you were going to live, she left.”

“Why?”

“Because you broke up with her,” Octavius spoke. Nicholas had not realized his friend was in the room until he spoke. “She is honouring your decision to end the relationship. Though, if I may be so bold was a stupid thing to do. That girl was the best thing to ever happen to you. I mean, really, not every woman falls in love with a dying man that looks like the walking dead.”

Octavius was right. Kinsley had proven herself a good woman. Sure it had started as a love for hire but had bloomed into a real emotional bond. He wanted her back, but nothing had changed. This so-called treatment was experimental, and there was no guarantee it would save his life; they were only speculating. No, at his point, it was still kinder to let her go. Let her live her life without having to watch him wither away and die.

Until he began to see real improvement, he would remain skeptical. It was better this way.