Xavion’s P.O.V.
“Mr. Waller, you should call your mate. It’s getting out of our hands.”
Withering in pain, all I could hear were the doctors’ stupid excuses for no treatment. Those high-class bastards were unable to treat a simple headache for so long.
I grabbed my head with both hands and yelled, shooing them away.
“Give me another dosage of morphine and get the hell out of my room.
I will be fine after some rest.”
Five years, and still, I had to remind them of the protocol. It was clear evidence of the doctor’s incompetence. I lost it when he said that.
“We have maxed out morphine injections. You can’t take any painkillers for the next twelve hours, Mr. Waller.”
“f**k off!”
Rubbing my temples, I snarled at those sorry excuses of the medical professionals and ordered Beta Alvar
