DO NO HARM

Chapter 4~ Eleanor Charles

Did he just leave me on my own to deal with this mess. What counts as stupid in this case? Oh my God. I've gone through a range of emotions just in the last 20 minutes. Fear, anger, sadness. Repeat.

Think Eleanor, think. What do you do in this type of situation?

The knocking resumed, leaving my mind in a frenzy. Oh God, this would be a really good time to blow that shiny trumpet of yours.

With shaking limbs, I cover Santiago's body. I stare at it for a while. How did it come to this?

I remember leaving the room for them to have privacy, even when I had a bad feeling about it. And I was right. I returned to the room for Alejandro to sign a document, only to find him thrusting a gun in his mouth and firing. I just froze. My mind was screaming at me to run as fast as I could, but my body refused to cooperate. Like the signal to my brain had been switched off.

I was ninety-nine per cent sure he would kill me next. But by some miracle, I'm not dead. At least not yet.

The knocking continued , louder this time followed by my name being called. "Charles, open the door right now." If I was not in this situation, I'd roll my eyes at Karen at the other side of the door. I could recognise her shrill voice anywhere.

She has this annoying sense of authority. Like she's bigger and better than anyone else. I really do wonder how we were once close friends.

"Break the door, would you?" I say, opening the door slightly using my body to shield the disaster inside.

"Don't get smart with me, Charles," she replied, her face filled with annoyance. "What took you so long anyway?"

"Performing last offices for my patient." The lie slipping easily.

"Your patient's dead?" she asked, surprised.

"No, just taking him to the morgue for fun. He needs a change of scenery. "

Rolling her eyes at my sarcasm. "But the surgery was successful. How is he dead ?"

"Katie boo, I'd really love to give you a crash course on respiratory failure, but I have a grieving relative who's been throwing up since he heard the news. "

She eyes me suspiciously. "So what I hear is you were not monitoring your patient properly."

She's right, you know. The voice in my head taunts me.

I take a deep breath, holding back tears. I can't afford to cry, not in front of her.

"Believe what you want to believe, Kate. I did my absolute best for my patient. " I reply, praying she'll give it a rest.

"Whatever, clear this room. We have a new patient arriving in the next ten minutes. " she said, walking away.

Making sure she was out of sight, I bolted to the bathroom. Feeling my breakfast coming up, I threw up. Till I felt somewhat better.

Hugging the toilet bowl like it's my lifeline and dry-heave some more.

Sinking to the floor, I cry. Cry for what could have been if my body just worked, and this would have been prevented. Cry for lying about the real reason my patient is dead. Cry for allowing this murderer to have a hold on me. I replay the murder, like a scene in a movie. Over and over again.

"Okay, that's enough. The whole building can probably hear you. "

For a moment , I forgot I had company. The reason all this was happening in the first place.

I look at him, hoping he can feel the hate I have for him for putting me in this situation.

" Is this the part where I console you , give you a hug, and whisper everything is going to be alright?"

"You're an asshole!" I screamed.

" Go an octave higher. No one heard you."

"Just leave me alone," I cried out.

" Quit whining. We gotta go, " he said, leaving the bathroom. "And clean yourself up, don't want snot on my car seat."

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

"Did you hit your head on the toilet bowl, or you're just deaf ?" he asked incredulously.

" You pigheaded asshole, I heard you clearly. My question is, why would I be in your car?"

" Because you're coming with me," he as though he'd already made the decision.