Page 18 of Their Deviant Love

“Aurora, you stabbed me with a fucking pen.”

“You touched something that didn’t belong to you.” She lifts a shoulder and laughs.

“You have always belonged to me.” My hand lands on her leg, that same leg she stabbed me for touching.

Chapter Nine

Connor fell asleep. I’ve been watching his chest rise and fall. Something is wrong with him. I don’t know what, and it’s driving me insane. I don’t like seeing him hurting, and as much as he’s trying to hide it, I know he’s in pain.

I really wish I could call my mom. She’d know what to do. I’ve thought about picking up the phone... I could ask her not to tell anyone, and she wouldn’t. I don’t know to what extent her phoneis watched, though. And I can’t put Connor at risk, especially when he’s not one hundred percent.

He’s been struggling for a while now, but for the last two days, it’s been worse. It’s more than just being tired. He’s fatigued, and in pain. Not that he’d tell me that.

A knock at the door has me on my feet and rushing for it. Finally! I want to scream at the damn doctor for taking his time. I don’t, though. Like Connor said, we are normal people here.

“Hi, thank you for coming.” I hold the door open, and a young woman walks through.

“Sorry, it took a little longer to finish with my last patient. I’m Dr. Morgan,” she says.

“Ah… Rose. My husband Justin isn’t feeling well,” I explain as I escort her to the bedroom.

“What seems to be troubling him?” Dr. Morgan sets her bag down on the desk.

“He’s fatigued, and in pain. It’s been going on for a while,” I tell her.

“I’m fine. My wife is overreacting,” Connor calls out from the bed.

“You’re awake. And you are not fine.” I shoot him a warning glare. “You’re going to let the doctor look you over.”

“Fine, but I am good. Just tired,” he says.

“Where is the pain?” Dr. Morgan asks.

“I’m not in pain,” Connor denies as his face scrunches up.In pain.

“Let’s pretend you are. Where would it be?” Dr. Morgan puts her stethoscope in her ears. “I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs,” she says, placing the other end on Connor’s chest. “Take a deep breath for me.”

“It’s my head, and my stomach,” he tells her.

“How long have you had symptoms?”

Connor looks at me. He clearly doesn’t want to tell her. “Just do it. She can’t help you if you don’t,” I say. “Please.”

“It’s probably just the man flu or something,” Connor mutters.

“How long?” the doctor repeats.

“A few weeks.”

“What happened here?” Dr. Morgan looks at the wound that’s still healing on Connor’s shoulder.

“I was shot,” he says.

“Shot?” Dr. Morgan looks between us, clearly surprised.

“Yeah. A few weeks ago.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t ask any more questions. “I’m going to draw some blood and run some tests. I’ll leave you with a bottle of pain medication and a packet of sleeping pills.”