The Watcher On The Ward (updated weekly)

Chapter 5- Let It Burn

Cameron sat at the small desk in his apartment, the single lamp casting a dim glow across the room. The once neatly stacked papers around him had become a chaotic mess, much like his life had over the past few weeks. A blank sheet of paper lay in front of him, the pen in his hand hovering over it uncertainly. He had never been good with words, not when it mattered. But this was different. This was his last chance to say what he needed to say—to explain, to justify, to make sure his reputation wasn't tarnished.

He stared at the paper, the silence of the room pressing in on him, making it hard to breathe. His chest felt heavy, weighed down by the mistakes he couldn't take back and the consequences he was finally facing. The decision from the hospital's board of directors had been swift and merciless: either transfer to another hospital or face being struck off entirely. It was no real choice at all, but it was the one he had been given, and he had to live with it.

Cameron knew that this letter was his only chance to reach out to Karla one last time. She wouldn't listen to him now, not after everything that had happened. But maybe, just maybe, if he put his thoughts into words, she might understand. She might remember who he used to be, the person he had been before everything went wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed the pen to the paper and began to write.

Dear Karla,

I've been sitting here for hours, trying to find the right words. But I don't think there are any right words for this—at least, none that can undo what I've done. Still, I need to try. I need you to know that I'm sorry, even if that doesn't change anything.

When I first met you, you were like a bright light in the darkness of this hospital. I know that sounds cliché, but it's true. You were always so focused, so determined, and I admired that about you. I still do. You have this way of making everyone around you feel like they matter, like their problems are important. It's one of the reasons you're such a good doctor, and it's one of the things I've always respected about you.

I wish I could say that everything I did was because I cared about you, that my intentions were good. But we both know that's not true. I crossed lines I shouldn't have, let my emotions get the better of me, and in doing so, I hurt you. I genuinely thought I was being a good doctor, but in trying to save a man's life, I failed.

I don't expect you to forgive me, and I'm not writing this to try to change your mind about what happened. I just wanted you to know that I never meant for things to get this bad.

I'm leaving Westbridge. The board has made it clear that I have no place here anymore. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe I need to go somewhere new, start fresh, and figure out who I am without the shadow of my mistakes hanging over me.

But before I go, I wanted to say that I hope you find happiness, Karla. You deserve that more than anyone I know. You have a bright future ahead of you, and I know you'll go on to do amazing things. I'm sorry I couldn't be a part of that, but maybe it's better this way. Maybe you're better off without me in your life.

I'm not asking for anything from you—not forgiveness, not understanding, nothing. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything.

Take care of yourself, Karla. And know that, despite everything, I'll always wish you the best.

Cameron

He stared at the letter, feeling a strange mix of regret and relief. Writing it had been hard, but he had needed to say those things, even if she would never read them. He put the pen down and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The room was silent, save for the ticking of a clock somewhere in the background. It was late, and the exhaustion was beginning to creep into his bones. But there was a restlessness in him that wouldn't let him find peace.

Jason, with his easy charm and natural ability, had always been the one Karla turned to. He was the one who made her laugh, who supported her when she was down. Jason, who had everything Cameron had wanted but could never truly grasp.

The more Cameron thought about it, the more the anger boiled up inside him. It wasn't fair. None of it was. He had worked just as hard, if not harder, than Jason, and yet it was Jason who always seemed to come out on top. Jason who was now living the life Cameron had once dreamed of.

His eyes flicked back to the letter on the desk. Suddenly, it didn't seem like enough. A simple apology wasn't going to change anything—not the past, not Karla's feelings, and certainly not the gnawing sense of loss and betrayal that had taken root in Cameron's heart.

Without thinking, Cameron reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver lighter. It was an old habit, one he had picked up during his darker days, when the flicker of a flame had been a rare source of comfort. He flicked it open, the small flame dancing in the dim light.

He stared at the flame for a moment, feeling its warmth against his skin. Then, almost as if in a trance, he brought it closer to the letter. The flame licked at the edge of the paper, catching quickly. Cameron watched as the fire began to consume the words he had so carefully written, the ink curling and blackening as the paper turned to ash.

The flames grew, devouring the letter until there was nothing left but a pile of smouldering embers on the desk. Cameron's hand trembled as he held the lighter, the smell of burnt paper filling the room.

It was done. The letter was gone, and with it, any chance of reconciliation. But instead of feeling relief, Cameron felt a wave of anger and jealousy wash over him, stronger than before. Jason had taken everything from him—his career, his pride, and now, Karla.

Cameron clenched his fist around the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He didn't care anymore about making amends or trying to fix things. He would play the long game if he had to, but the people responsible would pay for what they did to him.

With a deep breath, Cameron pocketed the lighter and stood up, his eyes cold and hard. He looked around the room one last time before turning off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

As he walked out of the apartment, the door closing with a soft click behind him, Cameron knew there was no turning back. The letter was gone, and so was any hope of redemption. All that was left was the burning desire for revenge—and he would stop at nothing to get it.

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