The Bringers of the Dawn

Chapter 10-The Induction Conference

He stood near the back terrace of his house, sipping some scotch. Yesterday had been one of those days. He was still closely following the terrorism story as it unfolded. Apparently, they had already taken down the gunmen who had accessed Charlie Hebdo. They had also captured one of the suicide bombers who had actually attempted to access the Stade de France. He didn't even want to imagine the level of devastation that could have resulted had he accessed the stadium.

Yesterday, they had done some good. It was not common for resident surgeons  to be called to attend to emergencies in the field because that was the work of the paramedics, but today all hospitals in Paris had been stretched beyond the limit.

Speaking of the devil, the doorbell dinged, and the gentleman let himself in.

"I see you're nursing your fatigue, how's the going?" he asked.

"Life sucks, and then you die." He retorted.

"Are you thinking about love again?" He questioned, pulling out a chair and grabbing the scotch bottle. "Life is a celebration. I want you to get out of that funk you are in so that we can go back to the good old days, chase some tail, throw some parties, and celebrate freedom."

"Yeah...yeah...yeah...what else can be expected of someone who told me marriage is a bitch on my wedding day?"

"No, I said you married a bitch. There is a difference," he corrected him. A few years ago, he would have punched the living daylights out of his friend, but right now, he just sat back and gave him a nasty look.

"I am meeting the divorce lawyer later today. Can you attend the conference for me?" he asked.

"You need to let that thing go, I beg you. It is sucking the will to live out of you, I know it hurts, especially because of the little girl, but give it a few years. You can approach the witch when..."

"Please...language." He interrupted. He put his arms up in mock surrender once more.

"I hate what she had turned you into. I want my good old friend back, is that too much to ask?" he repeated. The other Doctor shook his head.

"Okay, I will take the speech at the conference. I might meet a pretty African Queen, who knows, I could even fall in love." He taunted.

...

After a few shots at the scotch, Berhan grabbed the keys to his Car and headed out the door.

"Knock yourself out. You need to wife someone soon, old man" Nabeel mocked, walking back into the house. He was already feeling better. He was left alone with his thoughts. But how had the once nice girl turned into the person he had encountered at their home that evening when he had come home earlier than usual? He still wondered. He still remembered the orgy like scene, right on his couch. Four men, all naked, and his wife going at it, right inside the home they had built together.

The most disgusting part of the scene that looked it had been pulled straight out of a brothel was the fact that Bella, his little girl, had been seated on one of the sofas, watching her mother and the three gentlemen go at it. His heart broke every time he thought that his little girl was still going through the same experience.

How she had managed to change the script on him and convince judge and jury that he was the sexually immoral, wife battering savage was still impossible for him to understand. She had cried her eyes out in the courtroom, used the child to evoke pathos from the jury and by the end of the process, he had been labelled the monster that deserved losing everything. He finished shaving and stared back at his reflection in the mirror.

"I will get you back, Bella. I will fight with everything I have to make that happen."

His mind went further back to that Saturday morning four years ago when he had married Marianne. He had thought that it was the happiest day of his life. She had looked so lovely in white. She was starting her career as a nurse, and he had just finished his residency as a Neurosurgeon. The future was bright for them. He had overhead their wedding planner call her Bridezilla, a derogatory term to mean she was too demanding, but he had chosen to ignore it. There was also that time that his best friend Berhan had said that she was a little bit too 'high maintenance,' but he had taken it as a joke. Now he knew better.