adass in Disguise
<b>Chapter </b>244
Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the grimy windones of a sundown apartment building in Princeton’s poorest neighborhood. I stood behind Walter Morrison and Philip Thornton as we climbed the creaking stairs to the fifth floor. The stairwell reeked of urine and <b>cheap </b>disinfectant.
Walter knocked on apartment 507. No answer. He knocked again, louder <b>this </b>time,
“Maybe no one’s home, Philip suggested, straightening his expensive suit jacket.
I reached past them and turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. The door swung open, revealing Ss kneeling beside a <b>frail </b>woman in a narrow bed, cleaning what appeared to be vomit from her nightgown.
“I’m sorry.” Ss said without looking up, his voice t. “I’ll be at work in twenty minutes.”
He froze when he turned and <b>saw </b>us standing in the doorway. His eyes widened with recognition, then narrowed with something between anger and shame.
“Sorry,” Philip said <b>quickly</b>. “The door v
wasn’t <b>properly </b>closed. We should have knocked harder.”
The apartment was a single bedroom with a tiny living room and what looked <b>like </b><b>a </b>kitchte <b>and </b>bathroom so small you’d struggle to turn around in them. The walls were painted a dingy yellow that had <b>faded </b>and peeled in ces. The sparse furniture was clearly secondhand, but meticulously clean. Deep knife marks scarred the front door from the Inside.
Despite the poverty, someone had tried to make the ce habitable. The floor was swept, the few dishes stacked neatly in a drying rack. <b>A </b>nket and pillow on the living room couch suggested that’s where Ss slept, giving the bedroom to his mother.
<b>“</b>Dr. Morrison?” Ss’s mother asked <b>weakly </b>from the bed, her voice a thread of sound,
Walter
stepped forward, medical bag in hand. “Mrs. Murphy.”
Ss’s jaw tightened as he took the soiled cloth to the tiny bathroom
sional efficiency. I watched from the doorway as he examined Mrs. Murphy, his
Walter moved to the <b>bedside</b>, his manner shifting to professional expression growing more troubled with <b>each </b>passing minute.
“She worked two jobs when <b>she </b><b>was </b>younger, Ss said from <b>behind </b>me, his voice low. “Factory during the day, cleaning offices at night. Her body started breaking down years ago.”
Walter nodded grimly. “And the kidney disease?”
“Two years
years ago. Medicare covers the dialysis<b>, </b>but…” Ss shrugged,
ed, the gesture conveying everything words couldn’t.
I studied Mrs. Murphy <b>more </b>carefully. Early–fifties, probably, though she looked much older. Her body had been broken by hardbor and what looked like abuse–old scars visible on her arms, a badly healed fracture in her left <b>wrist</b>.
“Your father?” I asked <b>quietly</b>.
Ss ignored that question.
Walter finished his examination and turned to me. “Jade<b>, </b>can you think of anything that might help? Something to ease her pain, perhaps extend her time?”
I nced at Ss, then back to Walter. “Everyone out,” I said. “I need a few minutes.”
Walter nodded and ushered everyone from the bedroom.
When we were alone, I pulled my small medical kit from my bag and selected a vial containing an experimental pain <b>management </bpound I’d developed. It wasn’t FDA approved, but it worked better than anything on the market.
1 gently moved the nket <b>aside and </b>carefully unbuttoned part of Mrs. Murphy’s nightgown, exposing a small area of her abdomen. After cleaning the spot, I injected thepound. “This will help with the pain,” I exined. “It targets nerve receptors without suppressing respiratory function.”
Within minutes, her breathing eased<b>, </b>and the tight lines around <b>her </b>eyes rxed.
“Better?” I <b>asked</b><b>. </b>
She nodded, looking at me with new interest. “Thank you. Are <b>you </b>a doctor too?”
<b>“</b>In a way,” I repacked my kit. Til leave more medicine with your son.”
“Ss is a good boy,” she said, her voice stronger now that the pain had receded. “Always <b>has </b>been. Takes care of me, works so hard.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He deserves better than this life. Dealing with his father’s beatings, taking on so much responsibility at such a young age.”
Chapter Comments
凸 3
Write Comments
<SHARE