Hero Complex
1061 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
Hero Complex
What was she doing here?
That was the first thought that hit me when my eyes locked onto a familiar brown pair from across the dim club.
I was at a table behind, catching up with one of my longtime friends, when I heard a commotion - chairs scraping, a raised voice. Someone was being harassed. I stood up to get a better look, not expecting it to be her.
It was Rae.
She looked terrified. Her hair was messy, no doubt from being yanked. Her makeup was smudged just enough to betray distress, and her skirt had ridden up, revealing more of her thighs than she probably meant to show.
She didn’t look like herself - rigid in a chair, wearing a tight black corset and that short skirt, eyes wide with fear. She looked cornered. Vulnerable. Like she didn’t belong here at all.
“What the f**k do you think you’re doing?” the guy I’d just yanked off her barked, stumbling to his feet, fists already clenched.
I ducked just in time as he lunged, then landed a clean punch to his jaw. He staggered backward. Almost immediately, security rushed in - two guards separating the men, another helping Rae to her feet.
The scene shifted fast, like it always does in places like this. One minute chaos, the next control.
I turned to check on her - open my mouth to ask if she was okay -
“Owen! You just got a call - you’re needed at the hospital. Emergency,” my friend Liam called over the music.
I looked away for a second and checked my wrist watch checking if I could buy 10 more minutes to check on her.
I looked back at Rae.
But she was gone.
I unlocked the door to our apartment, dragging my feet as I stepped inside. My body throbbed from the day’s chaos, and my head pounded with the weight of everything I was carrying.
I peeked into my brother’s room -Tyler was curled under the blanket, sound asleep. Thank God.
Quietly, I closed the door to my room and let my back slide down against it until I hit the floor. Then I broke.
The tears I had been holding back for hours came pouring out.
I was humiliated. Angry. Exhausted. I felt stripped bare.
And the worst part? I hadn’t even done anything wrong.
Why did it have to be him - Dr. Owen - of all people? Why did he have to be the one to see me like that, in that place, dressed like that?
Why did he have to be the one to save me?
I hated that he saw me so weak. I hated that he might think less of me now.
I hated that I cared what he thought.
Eventually, the sobs quieted. My body gave out before my mind did, and I fell asleep there on the floor, curled up like a child hiding from the world.
“Good morning, sir,” I said softly, eyes downcast as I handed Dr. Owen the first patient’s chart.
I had prayed all weekend that he wouldn’t bring it up. That he would pretend it never happened. That we could go back to being just doctor and nurse.
“Morning,” he replied, accepting the file. His gaze lingered on me longer than usual - as if he was looking for cracks.
“How are you doing, Hudson?” I asked brightly as I entered the patient’s room, pushing my nerves aside with a practiced smile.
“I’m fine, Nurse Rae,” Hudson said, his voice cheerful as I checked his vitals.
“Looks like you're recovering well after the surgery. Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?” Dr. Owen asked, flipping through the chart.
“No, Doc. I feel great.”
“Vitals are steady,” I added, jotting a few notes down. “You might be discharged sooner than expected.”
Dr. Owen nodded. “Keep it up.”
He turned to leave, and I followed, relieved the conversation had stayed strictly professional.
Until....
“So… you’re a stripper?”
I stopped in my tracks.
“What?” I asked, whipping my head toward him.
“It’s not my place, but… you’re a nurse. Nursing is a respectable profession. I just don’t think it’s right to be doing both.”
Of course.
He thought I was a stripper. And worse - he was judging me for it.
“You’re not going to say anything?” he pressed, his tone almost smug in its certainty.
“No,” I said evenly, my voice flat.
He didn’t stop.
“I just think you should quit. You make decent money here, don’t you? And if you need more, there are more respectable ways to earn than… selling yourself.”
The words hit me like slaps.
“You think I’m selling myself?” I asked quietly, a bitter laugh catching in my throat.
He shrugged, like it was a simple fact. “Just saying - be careful. It’s not the kind of job for someone with self-respect.”
“Okay, sir,” I said, curt and clipped. I needed him to shut up before I said something I couldn’t take back.
A pause.
Then his voice softened, almost like he remembered I was human.
“Are you okay? That guy from the other night - he didn’t hurt you, did he?”
His tone was different now. His eyes searched mine with something closer to… concern?
I quickly broke the eye contact. “No. He didn’t. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I said, softer now. “Thank you… for saving me.”
He nodded. “Just… be careful, okay?”
Then he walked away.
Leaving me with a hundred questions, none of which I dared say out loud.
What was that look about?
Does he care?
Why?
I pushed away the thoughts and sent them to the back of mind.
He thought I was a stripper and that hurt so badly.
Why it did?
I didn’t understand but it was a punch to my ego.
Yes, that was probably it.
I didn’t want to work under Dr. Owen any longer.
“Funny how a hero can look so much like a villain when the lights come on.”
- Writer
