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Angel Huxley Novak
Seven days had passed since the world I knew shattered into a million irreparable pieces. The weight of grief had settled upon me like an unrelenting storm, drowning me in a sea of sorrow and loss. Each moment felt like an eternity as I navigated the hollowness that had taken residence within me.
My body had become a battleground between the desire to eat and the inability to stomach even a morsel of sustenance.
Food had lost its taste, and the simple act of nourishing myself felt like a monumental task. I watched as the rain pelted against my window, the world outside mirroring the tumultuous tempest within.
The covers provided a thin shield from the cold reality that had seeped into my bones. My gaze was fixed on the ceiling, but my mind was a swirling vortex of memories, regrets, and unanswered questions.
The pillow beneath my head seemed to absorb the tears that flowed freely, as if it understood the depth of my pain.
Seven days without sleep had etched shadows beneath my eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in an empty bed that felt infinitely larger without him beside me.
The stillness of the room was a haunting reminder of the laughter and whispered conversations that once filled the air.
Seven days without speaking had rendered my voice silent, as if the weight of my grief had stolen even my ability to express it. The silence was suffocating, each unspoken word aching to be released but held captive by the grief that gripped my heart.
Everyone was right.
I was nothing but a shitty doctor.
A soft knock on my door breaks through the heavy fog of my thoughts, and I let out a weary sigh. Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed, the weight of my sorrow clinging to every step I take. I peer through the peephole, my heart sinking as I see my father standing there, concern etched on his face.
"Angel, open the door!" His voice is laced with desperation, unaware that I'm watching him through the peephole. "Angel, princess, please—it's been seven days now." His voice quivers with a mixture of worry and helplessness, and I feel a pang of guilt tighten around my chest.
My body feels like a leaden weight as I make my way back to the door. Sliding down to the floor, I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my forehead against them, seeking solace in the cocoon of darkness I've created for myself.
"I can't do this anymore, Dad," I confess, my voice muffled by the fabric of my pants.
The desperation in his voice escalates as he pleads, "Angel...what do you mean?"
The tears that had been held back for days finally spill over, wetting the fabric beneath my cheek. "Everyone's right...I'm a mess, a failure...I don't deserve happiness. Maybe if I had been the one shot fourteen times—"
My words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of my despair. I can't bring myself to voice the rest of the thought, but the implication is clear. I feel broken beyond repair, as if my pain is consuming me from the inside out.
"You better shut that mouth, young lady!" My father's voice pierces through my darkness, laced with a fierce intensity that startles me out of my own thoughts. "Don't say that! Don't you ever say that!"
His words jolt me, reminding me that even in my darkest moments, I have people who care about me. His fierce protectiveness serves as a lifeline, pulling me back from the precipice of my own despair.
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Touch My Neck ✓
Romance"You're on my schedule," he stated, his tone laced with an unusual intensity. "On your schedule?" I questioned, curiously. "We need to have sex." . . . Haunted by a tragic mistake during her residency, Dr. Angel Novak has reshaped her career, tr...
