Clinic of the Cursed

Chapter 2

Lexy pushed open the door to Room 17, patient chart clutched tightly in her hands. The usual sterile scent of rubbing alcohol was tinged with something metallic—faint and sharp, like iron left to rust.

Inside, Harper sat perfectly still, her eyes glinting unnaturally in the dim light. Thin lips curved into a slow smile, just enough to reveal the slightest hint of sharp canines.

“Ms. Harper?” Lexy asked, keeping her tone professional but steady.

Harper’s gaze lifted slowly. “Just Harper, please.”

Abby stepped quietly into the room behind Lexy, her golden eyes narrowing as she studied Harper. “You don’t seem like you belong here,” Abby said softly.

Harper’s smile deepened, flashing fangs for a brief moment. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Lexy swallowed hard. The tension in the room thickened like fog. This clinic wasn’t just a place for joint pain and blood work anymore — it was a crossroads for the cursed, the strange, and the supernatural.

Outside the door, Mariel and Gwen exchanged a wary glance but didn’t enter.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Dr. Dedeke appeared in the doorway, her white coat crisp and immaculate, expression calm but unreadable.

She glanced into the room for a moment. “This patient is... special,” she said quietly, then turned and walked away before anyone could ask more.

Lexy leaned in and whispered, “This clinic has secrets... and I think you’re part of them.”

Harper’s eyes glinted as she leaned forward slightly. “Pain. Joint stiffness. Symptoms that haven’t responded to other treatments.”

Abby stood by the door, her senses screaming that there was more beneath the surface. Her golden eyes flickered briefly as she studied Harper’s flawless, pale skin—too flawless, too cold to be normal.

“Anything else you’d like to share?” Lexy asked.

Harper’s smile deepened. “Only that sometimes, the pain is... more than physical.”

Just then, the door swung open, and Dr. Dedeke strode in, her white coat immaculate, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I see we have a new patient,” she said, voice calm but with an edge that made Abby’s skin prickle. “This patient is... special.”

Harper’s eyes gleamed, and Abby felt a chill in the air.

“Special?” Lexy echoed.

Dr. Dedeke’s gaze flicked between them. “Some ailments require more than medicine. Sometimes, they require... magic.”

Lexy glanced at Abby, then back at Harper, who simply smiled and whispered, “Welcome to the Clinic of the Cursed.”

Dr. Dedeke turned and looked directly at Abby, her eyes sharp and unreadable. “Abby, I trust you’re prepared for tonight. The full moon isn’t far off.”

Abby’s breath caught. She wasn’t sure if the doctor was reminding her or warning her. Abby met her gaze, heart pounding. The truth was dangerous. But maybe it was time someone knew.

Later, Abby slipped into the empty supply closet, hands trembling as she pulled her jacket tighter. The cold tile floor was nothing compared to the fire racing beneath her skin. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the beast inside to stay silent.

“Abby?”

Her heart jumped. Mariel’s voice, soft but insistent, floated through the door.

“Hey, you alright in there? You’ve been distant.”

Abby opened the door a crack and peered out. Mariel’s expression was open, concerned, but with a hint of suspicion.

“Yeah,” Abby lied, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. “Just... tired.”

Mariel hesitated, then nodded. “If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

Abby smiled, grateful but wary.

As Mariel walked away, Abby’s gaze flickered to the shadow near the corner of the hallway. Gwen watched her with an intensity that sent a shiver down Abby’s spine.

Her pale skin seemed to absorb the clinic’s fluorescent light, and those eyes — too dark, too deep — held secrets older than the building itself.

Without a word, Gwen turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving Abby wondering just how many monsters this clinic really held.

Lexy sat at her desk, the clinic’s dim after-hours lighting casting long shadows across rows of patient files. Harper’s file lay open before her, but it was more than just medical notes.

Her fingers traced the strange marks, a chill running down her spine.

“Chronic nocturnal anemia… unusual regeneration rates… unexplained hypersensitivity to sunlight.”

None of it added up for a normal patient. There were strange symbols faintly embossed on the paper, almost invisible unless you looked closely.

She glanced around. The clinic was silent now, but the walls seemed to hum with hidden energy.

She knew Abby was struggling with her own secret, but this… this was something else.

Suddenly, a soft knock at the door startled her.

“Lexy?” Angie’s voice. “Y’all still here? We’re locking up soon.”

Lexy nodded, sliding the file closed.

“Just… looking over something.”

Angie stepped inside, her eyes sharp.

“Be careful with that. The Clinic of the Cursed isn’t just a nickname.”

Abby’s heart pounded.

“What do you mean?”

Angie’s gaze softened, but her voice was serious.

“Some patients and staff carry more than illnesses. They carry histories. Powers. Curses.”

Abby swallowed, realizing she’d stepped into a world she didn’t fully understand.

“And some nights,” Angie added quietly, “the clinic itself decides what will happen next.”