The Psychopath's Doctor (His cure)

#Wilson's Residence#

**Kimberly's Perspective**

I let out a low grunt as I was jolted awake by the relentless blaring of my alarm clock, which seemed to cut through the stillness of the morning with its harsh tones. "Oh, please don't tell me it's already 6:30 AM," I thought anxiously, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stretching out my arms as I fumbled to silence the noisy device.

After a brief moment of lying there, still half-asleep, I finally managed to open my eyes, squinting against the harsh light filtering through my window. As I sat up, I scanned my room with bleary eyes, and I couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

"Damn, it's such a mess," I thought, taking in the chaotic scene around me. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, a veritable landscape of discarded outfits from my frantic search for the perfect dress for my date with Nathan the previous night. Shoes were kicked off carelessly, and there were empty cans of soda and snack wrappers littering the space, evidence of my late-night snacking binge.

With a resigned sigh, I took a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I slipped on my well-worn flip-flops, which were desperately in need of replacement, and stood up. The cold floor beneath my feet sent a small shiver up my spine, prompting me to jump into action.

I started to diligently pick up the clothes strewn all over my room, organizing my wardrobe with a sense of urgency. I could still feel the adrenaline from my date with Scott coursing through me, a rush that made me eager to tidy everything up and restore some semblance of order. My mind replayed snippets of our evening together, and I couldn't help but smile, even as I cursed under my breath about the chaos I had created in my wake.

After several minutes of shoving clothes into drawers and neatly stacking shoes, I finally felt some sense of accomplishment. Then, I paused, my energy waning as the reality of the morning sunk in. I tossed aside the last of the stray garments and headed towards the bathroom, shedding my clothes as I went.

Once inside, I grabbed the toothpaste and toothbrush, my movements slow and groggy as I blinked rapidly, trying my best to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. The cool tiles beneath my feet contrasted sharply with the warmth of my skin, and I felt the need for a rejuvenating splash of cold water on my face. As I squeezed the toothpaste onto my brush, I couldn't help but anticipate the day ahead, hoping for a smoother, more organized one than the chaotic morning I was currently experiencing.

As I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I realized I looked like I had just stumbled out of a psychiatric hospital. My hair was a tangled mess, my clothes were wrinkled, and I could only imagine what kind of impression I would make if my younger brother, Royce, happened to catch me in this disheveled state. I could practically hear his laughter ringing in my ears; it would undoubtedly be a field day for him if he witnessed my morning appearance. I had a tendency to sleep quite erratically, but last night seemed particularly chaotic, as there were times I had even awoken on the cold, hard floor right in front of the bathroom.

"Thank goodness I managed to wake up early this morning before Royce could see me like this," I thought to myself with a frustrated huff as I picked up my toothbrush and began the mundane task of brushing my teeth. I was determined not to let my brother's teasing ruin my day, even though in the back of my mind I knew he probably would find an opportunity to poke fun at me at some point.

Royce, my younger sibling, has a knack for finding the most irritating ways to bother me. He's in his final year of high school, and while I know I should support him, I can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over me at the thought of him leaving home to head off to college. The idea of not having to deal with his incessant teasing and annoying habits gives me a sense of joy that's hard to put into words. Just picturing my life without his shenanigans feels like a breath of fresh air, and I can hardly wait for that day to arrive.

However, today is shaping up to be quite a challenging one for me. I have a full schedule ahead, with numerous patients to attend to, and the thought of it fills me with dread. Mondays, in particular, have always been overwhelming for me-a constant whirlwind of stress and anxiety. It's a day that never seems to go smoothly, fraught with countless tasks that pile up all at once. Just thinking about the multitude of responsibilities I have lined up for the day makes my head spin, and I can't help but let out an exasperated sigh at the thought of yet another chaotic Monday looming ahead.

With a chuckle of disbelief, I shook my head and stepped into the bathroom, turning the faucet of the shower to unleash the cascading water. The sensation of warm water enveloping my body was heavenly, and as the first droplets hit my skin, I couldn't help but gasp in delight, feeling every tense muscle begin to relax. There was something rejuvenating about a warm shower in the morning; it felt as if each droplet was washing away not just the dirt, but also any lingering worries from the night before, leaving me refreshed and ready to face the day.

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***30 MINUTES LATER***

After what felt like the perfect start to my morning, I stood in front of the mirror, a slight smile forming on my lips as I delicately applied a shimmering layer of lip gloss. It was a small detail, but one that made a significant difference in how I felt. I paused for a moment, glancing at my reflection and thinking to myself, "Okay, perhaps I'm not trying to brag here, but honestly, I look quite beautiful today." While I knew that I wasn't exactly the epitome of a classic figure 8, I felt confident in my average yet well-proportioned physique. My breasts were comfortably nestled in that happy medium-not too large to feel cumbersome, yet not so small that they went unnoticed. A similar balance was found with my backside, which had its own delightful curves without tipping into excess.

My stomach was flat, and my waist tapered nicely, creating an appearance that many women often complimented me on, expressing admiration for my body shape. It was always gratifying to hear such words of affirmation, knowing that my efforts at the gym and my focus on healthy eating were appreciated by others.

Lips had always been a standout feature for me, too. Time and again, people would remark on their unique fullness and beauty, declaring them eye-catching. I smiled at the thought, feeling a swell of confidence as I finished applying the lip gloss and placed it carefully into my bag, ready for whatever the day had in store. With my phone and a few important files in hand, I took a moment to gather my thoughts and say quietly to myself, "And... that's all," before making my way out of my room.

As I descended the stairs, the aroma of breakfast wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of clinking cutlery. Mom and Royce were already seated at the dining table, engrossed in their meal. However, I immediately noticed that my mom's expression didn't seem to match the delightful scent of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee; she appeared somewhat unhappy, and an immediate wave of concern washed over me. The moment she caught sight of me, though, her face broke into a wide smile, a stark contrast to the sadness lurking in her eyes, as if she was trying to mask her worries behind a veneer of cheerfulness.

"My precious jewel," she said with a warm smile that lit up her face, and as if on cue, I let out a chuckle that filled the room with a lighthearted vibe.

"Good morning, Mom," I replied cheerfully, making my way over to the kitchen table where she was already seated, her presence radiating comfort and love. I settled down close to her, relishing the familiar feeling of being near someone I adored so deeply.

"Morning, my angel," she said, her voice sweet and melodic. "Here, I made your favorite," she added, gesturing toward a beautifully plated dish that instantly sent a wave of excitement coursing through me. I gasped in delight, my eyes widening at the sight of the delicious food that awaited me.

"Thanks, Mummy!" I exclaimed, genuinely grateful for her thoughtful gesture. Just then, I caught the sound of Royce scoffing from the other side of the kitchen, his playful expression adding a hint of mischief to the atmosphere.

"It seems like you left your manners on your bed after waking up," I remarked, feigning indignation, my tone playful as I huffed exaggeratedly in his direction.

"Sorry, I just wanted you guys to finish first," he replied, rolling his eyes in an all-too-familiar manner that only made me chuckle more.

"Wait... are you... jealous?" I teased, unable to contain my laughter, the sheer absurdity of the idea making it even funnier.

"Mom didn't prepare my favorite food," he retorted, crossing his arms defensively, "but she cooked yours. Tell me why the hell wouldn't I be jealous?" His exaggerated scoff echoed in the kitchen, causing both of us to erupt into laughter once more. It was a common occurrence; Royce had a knack for getting easily jealous, often craving the affection and praise that Mom showered upon us, particularly when food was involved.

"Well, I'm sorry, Royce," our mom chimed in, her tone gentle and reassuring. "I promise I'll make your favorite food when you return from school," she said, a smile breaking across her face as if to make amends for the oversight. It was moments like these that made our family dynamic so amusing.

"Better," he said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face, his earlier resentment swiftly forgotten in the warmth of our laughter and the delicious promise of food awaiting him later in the day.

"Spoilt brat," I muttered under my breath, casting an irritated glare in his direction before returning to my food with a huff. The last thing I needed this morning was to be delayed by that annoying kid. I shook my head in frustration, thoughts racing through my mind about how this would mess up my schedule. I couldn't afford to be late due to his whims.

Just as I took a bite, I heard his voice, timid yet persistent, calling out my name. "Urmm... Sis," he said, and I immediately looked up from my plate. Whenever he uses that particular nickname, it almost always signifies that he's about to make some kind of dubious request or ask for a favor.

"Yeah, what's up?" I replied, raising an eyebrow expectantly, my mind already bracing itself for whatever he was planning to concoct.

"Could you please give me a ride to school today?" he asked, biting his lip nervously. I noticed the way his eyes darted around, a typical sign that he was trying to gauge my reaction.

"And why should I do that?" I countered, skepticism laced in my tone. "What happened to your drive?" I was curious to know why he suddenly couldn't use his own means of transportation because I could see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"Nothing serious," he replied quickly, his voice almost pleading. "I just really want you to drop me off today. It's so boring when he drives me to school, and I need someone to talk to. I would love to drive myself, but Mom still thinks I'm too young to handle it," he continued, a slightly exaggerated note of exasperation creeping into his voice. I couldn't help but scoff; I knew this punk too well. There had to be more to his request than simply wanting my company for a mundane car ride.

"Please, Kim," my brother chimed in, using the tone that usually stirred my protective instincts. "You heard your brother. Please drop him off at school." My mom's gentle pleading cut through my annoyance, and I let out a weary sigh, feeling the weight of her request settle upon my shoulders as I forked another piece of food into my mouth.

"Fine, but you better not provoke me. If you do, I swear I'll throw you right out of my car," I remarked, my voice laced with mock seriousness. He nodded in response, flashing me a cheeky wink that suggested he was unbothered by my threat.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," I said, finally rising from my chair with a sense of urgency.

"What?? Are you serious? But it's barely been three minutes since I sat down!" Royce protested, his brow furrowing in disbelief as he glanced at his half-finished meal.

I let out an exaggerated scoff, not buying his excuse for a second. "Come on, man! You're supposed to be done eating by now. It's been more than three minutes! Please don't be the reason I end up late for work today," I retorted, my impatience starting to bubble to the surface. Reluctantly, he stood up, but not before mumbling something incoherent under his breath that I couldn't quite catch.

"We're heading out now, Mom," I called over my shoulder, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on her cheek - a gesture of affection that was second nature for me.

"Okay, sweetheart, you two take care! See you later!" she replied cheerfully, her voice light and full of warmth as we made our way out of the house and towards my car.

Once we reached the vehicle, both of us slipped inside; I wasted no time in starting the engine and backing out of the driveway, the hum of the car filling the brief silence that followed.

A few minutes passed with the rhythmic sound of tires against the pavement when I turned my head slightly to check on Royce. "Is something going on with Mom? She seems a little off today," I inquired, curiosity piqued as my eyes remained fixed on the road ahead of me.

"I think Dad might be having an affair," Royce replied, his tone suddenly serious, sending a chill down my spine. I gasped, shocked by the severity of his statement, and instinctively turned my head to look at him.

"Whoa, hold on! Can you please focus on the road?" he said, a hint of concern in his voice as I snapped back to reality, realizing how easily distractions could lead to trouble while driving. I quickly redirected my attention to the road, the weight of his words lingering in the air like an unopened package, full of unsettling possibilities.

"Why did you say that??"I asked wondering why he said that. My dad is a really calm person and he seem to love mom alot so why would Royce say that,I thought and bit my lips.

"I heard mom telling someone on phone yesterday evening, It seems like dad didn't actually go for a business trip but he's with another woman. Mom had cried so much last night"He said and I scoffed gobsmacked.

"Dad....... Dad is with another woman??, How could he do this to mom?"I said and scoffed unbelievably.

"I don't know too, Kim but I'm scared that mom might file for a divorce"He said.

"I still can't believe this,Poor mom. I'm so dissapointed in dad "I muttered with a huff adding a little speed.

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*30 MINUTE'S LATER*

I parked my car and swiftly rushed out of the car heading inside the hospital, I'm so pressed that if I don't use the restroom anytime soon...... I might just end up urinating on my body.

"Good morning, Doctor Kim"The nurses and some of my fellow colleagues greeted but I just waved at them rushing off. I'm sure they must be wondering what's wrong with me.

I finally saw the restroom and rushed into it heading into one of the toilets.

"Ugghhhhhh"I groaned as I let the liquid out. F**k I thought my bladder will burst,I thought and brought out my phone.

I searched for his contact and dialed it but he still didn't answer his phone. What's wrong with him?, Whenever I call him he doesn't pick up and annoyingly he doesn't return back my calls. It just feels like I'm dating myself sometimes,I thought with a sigh and put the phone back into my handbag.

As I rifled through my contacts, my anticipation turned to frustration as I dialed his number, only to be met once again with the same silent response; he simply did not pick up his phone. "What on earth is the matter with him?" I pondered, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. It seemed like every time I reached out, my calls went unanswered. Even more annoyingly, he had developed a habit of completely ignoring my attempts to reconnect-no missed call notifications, no texts, nothing. It was as if I was engaged in a one-sided relationship, where my efforts to bridge the gap felt utterly futile. "Sometimes, I really feel like I'm just dating myself," I thought with a resigned sigh, before tucking my phone back into the depths of my handbag, the weight of uncertainty growing heavier.

Just when I thought I would rise from my seat and leave this frustrating episode behind, my attention was abruptly seized by a chorus of laughter nearby. The vibrant giggles and chatter of a group of women pierced through my thoughts like an unexpected burst of energy. I hadn't intended to eavesdrop on their conversation, but the snippets of their lively discussion drew me in, making me root myself to the spot.

"Geez, my lips look so pale," one voice exclaimed, her tone infused with mock exasperation that hinted at the humorous nature of their gathering.

Then, another voice chimed in, brimming with intrigue. "Have you guys heard the latest scoop about Mr. Antonio's son making headlines over at the hospital?"

"Oh, absolutely! I heard he actually pulled a knife and nearly went after the last doctor they assigned to him. I think it was Dr. Collins, right?"

The others gasped, their curiosity piqued by the unfolding drama.

"Honestly, he's fortunate that his parents are wealthy. If it weren't for their resources, there's no way he'd receive the proper treatment he needs," one of the women asserted with a hint of disdain. "I mean, how does he expect to get any help when he behaves like that towards everyone trying to assist him?"

Their conversation unfolded like a captivating story, and despite my earlier frustrations, I found myself unwittingly drawn into the dynamic exchanges, eager to learn more about the peculiar situation surrounding Mr. Antonio's son. Each detail heightened the intrigue, momentarily distracting me from my own grievances.

"Poor Doctor Kimberly. He's just going to hurt her the same way he's been hurting everyone else," I overheard, and a lump formed in my throat as I swallowed hard, desperately trying to suppress the rising dread within me.

"Why are they sending more doctors to him when it's painfully obvious that he's never going to be cured? I simply cannot bear the thought of him causing harm to our beloved Doctor Kim," another voice chimed in, filled with frustration and concern.

"Why must it be her? Of all the doctors in this facility, why did it have to be her?. They should have appointed doctor Anita instead"her words laced with an anxious hiss.

"I wholeheartedly agree with you," another nurse said. "Anita has been nothing but a thorn in our side, a constant source of unease in this hospital. They should have assigned Doctor Anita instead.

With each word spoken, a sense of foreboding enveloped me. "Doctor Kimberly is in serious trouble; he's clearly on a path to harm her," one nurse added, her voice trembling with fear.

"Please, don't say things like that!" another replied, her voice lowering as if she were afraid of the very words escaping her lips. "Let's just pray that she makes it out of this situation alive. She's such a kind soul, and I genuinely hope he recognizes that"

As their hushed gossip continued to swirl around me, my heart raced with panic. I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of anxiety. What on earth are they talking about? Wait a minute... Doctor Collins who is Doctor Collins' patient that they keep discussing? I thought to myself, biting down on my lip anxiously, trying to piece together this unsettling puzzle of troubling conversation.