Read Online SICK: Psychological Thriller Series Novella 1 by Christa Wojciechowski - Free Book Online Page A

all along, and Dr. Sheffield had finally found the answer to John’s medical enigmas. I was afraid to hope for too much; I couldn’t bear to be disappointed again, but I had to believe that miracles were possible.
    “John, I can’t stay home with you anymore. Not one more day.” I said.
    “Have you spoken to your boss?” he asked.
    “I’m just going to go in,” I said.
    “Yes, you must go,” he said. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”
    I was struck by the fact that he didn’t object to me going to work. I believed it was added evidence that he was entering a new level of wellness. I was much more comfortable leaving him this time. Since there had been no surgery involved, there was no wound care or immobilization required. He was free of any casts or braces and could move around the house freely. Then I remembered my row with the landlord.
    “Mrs. Arab said she saw you walking around out back,” I said. “It was shortly after your neck surgery. Did you happen to go outside?”
    “What?” John turned his boyish face to me.
    “I told her she was wrong, but she insisted it was you.”
    His smile faltered; his brows knit together ever so slightly. It was just a flicker of expression, but his deceit was there, along with a slight catch in his breath. Then the charming smile returned.  “It couldn’t have been me, sweetie. You know I rarely leave the bedroom, much less the house.”
    “Are you sure?” I asked. This time I got him. I caught him in a lie.
    He looked down as he fingered his napkin. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m sure if I, myself, walk outside.”
    “That day you finished the Demerol. The day I came home from work and you were covered in new bruises …”
    “No,” he cut me off. “Impossible.”
    “You were overly intoxicated, John. You know better than to go outside alone. You just broke your neck on the stairs. You could easily fall after injecting so much Demerol.”
    “It wasn’t that much,” he said, rolling his eyes.
    “I just can’t believe how careless you were! If you get hurt, who’s the one who has to take care of you? It’s selfish. Absolutely selfish.”
    “You don’t have to yell at me,” he said.
    “I’m not yelling. I’m telling you how I feel. When you don’t take care of yourself, it affects me. Don’t you understand?”
    “Okay. All right. I did it. I went outside,” he said. “I admit it. Will you stop it now?”
    “I just feel like sometimes you don’t think of me at all,” I said.
    His face softened, and he took my hand. “My angel,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
    “What were you thinking?” I asked.
    He looked toward me with a wistful smile. His eyes were glassy with emotion. “I just hadn’t seen the sky in so long,” he said. “I just wanted to see the sky, Suze.”
    I could hardly be angry with him anymore. I stood beside him, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and kissed the top of his soft, balding head. He leaned into me and sighed.
    “It’s okay,” I said. “Just don’t do it again.”
    I went upstairs to get ready for work while he ate his breakfast. By the time I reached the bedroom, guilt was setting in. I shouldn’t have yelled at him, but John’s wellbeing was tied to mine, and he had to understand that. I had to establish some boundaries. I grabbed my purse and met him in the kitchen. He stood up and walked me to the door.
    “Be careful,” I said. “I mean it.”
    “I will.” He winked. I thought I detected something devious in his manner, but then his sweet expression returned and he kissed me good-bye. He almost seemed like a normal husband, and I had a taste of what our lives could be if he was finally cured. 
     
    *
     
    The dawn warmth signaled the cold front was over. I turned on the radio, singing along with horrible pop songs to drown out the grinding noise of my car’s engine. I felt weightless and free because there was hope. I finally stood up for myself with John. I thought