The Tyrant's Trophy

Quinn

“What a jerk!” I slammed on the gas peddle, cutting in front of some man that drove like Ms. Daisy. “I can’t stand his ego! Oh - look at me; I’m Adam Carter and I think I own everyone.” I mocked him in the best deep voice I could make.

I am SO going to get Chad for this. I should have never answered either boy's call that day. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with that man!

“Carter?” I recalled the day he stepped into my clinic. “If it isn’t the high and mighty Adam Carter,” I mocked when I walked into the waiting room and glared at the man. I enjoyed the fire in his eyes. I had dreamt of this moment: for the aloof jerk to see my clinic and take back those words he spat at me, years before. “What brings you to see a quack like me?”

I smirked when he clenched his fists but that dropped as I noticed the discomfort on the woman’s face he was holding hands with. The lady tugged a bit on his arm, letting him know it hurt. Loosening his grip, Adam curtly greeted. “Quinn. It’s been a long time.”

I stuck out my tongue. “Not long enough. What brings you here? Don’t you have your own physicians?” Be nice, Quinn. Chad’s voice played in my head. My brother had to talk me into this.

“Yes, but as much as I hate to admit it, you’re the best, and I want only the best for my wife.” For a split second, I found it (kind of) cute when the usual cold-hearted man eyed his wife lovingly.

So I guess even the iciest of hearts can be thawed. Hmph, I’m happy for them, then.

“That’s right, you’re married.” I turned my attention to Daphnie. “How on earth is that possible?” I faked surprise, staring down at the lady. “Is this marriage forced? Did he kidnap you?”

The infamous Daphnie Carter burst into laughter while her hubby glared at me. Once Daphnie finished laughing, she playfully asked, “why does everyone find it so hard to believe that I married him out of my own free will?”

“He must have brainwashed you then,” I shrugged nonchalantly. The woman was funny - I liked her. She was friendly to talk to and it’s nice that she enjoyed the jokes I made. “Sorry, I can’t fix that in here.”

Adam’s patience waned. “Can we just get started?” Is the man really that uncomfortable here? I know my joint isn’t the classier of places but still; it’s homey. Maybe Adam Carter doesn’t like homey?

Too bad for him.

Looking at my watch, I noticed it was still a bit early to check them in. Plus, I had an appointment to finish up. “You still have eight minutes before your appointment. Have a seat, and a resident will call your name.”

I walked back to the clients I was previously with before Carter walked in. They were a cute elder couple but unfortunately, the woman was ill. She had gone to various doctors for migraines and was told that’s what it was: migraines. None of those doctors thought to perform a scan on the woman or look at some cells with a microscope.

If they had, they would have seen the cluster of dead cells within her brain. Now, it’s too late.

The woman has glioblastoma, stage four, and it’s aggressively growing. The most we can do for her is cut out as much of the tumor and start chemo right away. Hopefully, we can elongate her survival but with her age, statistically, we can give her a year. Ideally, I would love to cure her completely or give her at least five years but that’ll take a miracle. Really, the most I can do is offer the best I have and make the woman as comfortable as possible.

As expected, the couple left, feeling defeated most likely. The lady thanked me before walking out but the husband said they will find another doctor for a second opinion.

Sighing, I wished them the best before making my way to the front desk. “Are the Carters ready?” I asked.

“Yes. They’re in room 203.” My nurse gave me the clipboard with the papers the couple filled out. I read it as I walked to the room.

Adam was holding Daphnie’s hand when I walked in. Between the two, Daphnie was the one on edge. She held her stomach, frightened as if I was going to perform some sort of monstrous ritual on her.

Clearing my throat, I made myself known. “So Daphnie, what brings you in today?”

Suddenly, the woman’s anxiety fled and a smile graced her face. “I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations.” Only for the child, did I feel bad for ignoring Adam’s calls. “Will this be your first child?”

Daphnie grew tense again and there was a sadness in her eyes. I didn’t need to know what happened; I’ve seen the tears of many ladies who’ve lost their babies. Still, Adam explained for her. “She was pregnant before but we lost the baby at fifteen weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” I meant it.

However, what stunned me was Daphnie’s outburst. “Lost?” Pure anger swelled in her eyes as she growled out, “He was stolen from us. Someone found a way to drug me. They gave me pills for a chemical abortion and I almost died because I hemorrhaged.”

Immediately, I went on high alert. “Do you know what kind of abortion drug it was?” Being careful not to startle the couple, I took out my tools and began a simple check-up first. “Did the doctor give you a proper D and C surgery when that forced abortion happened?”

D and C is a procedure used to clean the uterus; they can help prevent infection and/or clean any harmful tissue left after a miscarriage or abortion.

Daphnie didn’t like that question but it’s vital to her health and this new pregnancy. If she was not treated, it can cause problems for the baby.

“That was done,” Adam responded, allowing me to take his wife’s blood and temperature.

“Good.” That was one less thing to fret over. “Now let’s do an ultrasound to check on the baby.” I stepped out to get my machine. I had Daphnie lay down and left her shirt over her belly so I could spread some gel around the pelvis area. Unsurprisingly, she flinched from the coldness. “I know.”

I turned off the lights before placing the transducer on the area with the gel and moving it slightly around until the child showed up on the screen. A healthy heartbeat filled the room.

“That’s your baby.” I eyed the couple as their eyes stood glued to the screen. They were in awe and honestly, it reminded me why I chose this profession; just as death was everywhere, so was life. “The flashing light you see is his or her heartbeat.”

“Wow.” They murmured in unison and Adam leaned down to kiss his wife’s forehead. He whispered something but I couldn’t hear what it was.

Shrugging, I informed them that they were eight weeks pregnant. Turning the machine off, I handed Daphnie a wipe to rub the gel off. “How have you been feeling?”

“A little nauseous.” She admitted. “I threw up a few times, but nothing severe.”

“Any cravings?” Some women had no symptoms but everyone was different.

“Bacon and french fries.” Not a bad craving.

“You’re always craving bacon and french fries,” Adam chuckled. “Even before being pregnant.”

I bit back a smile when the girl defended herself. “Well, my cravings are stronger, now. Remember a few weeks ago, when I started throwing punches at you because you forgot to get bacon?”

That was it for me; I howled, laughing until my ribs ached. She PUNCHED the most intimidating man on the planet! Man, she got him WHIPPED! I like this girl; she’s something alright. “I suppose you better make sure you’re stocked up.” I snorted.

I gaped when Adam didn’t glare or retort back. “Believe me, I bought plenty after she kicked me where the sun doesn’t shine. Our freezer is full.” I could swear I saw a slight shiver go down his spine.

Composing myself - as best I could - I sadly had to break the news to Daphnie that Bacon wasn’t all good for her or the baby. “Make sure you include fruits and vegetables in your diet. Bacon is delicious but too much can be harmful to the baby and your overall health. Also, it’ll be best to cut out all unhealthy foods and red meats: eat chicken instead for your meals. Remember: balance is key. Though, if you want to kick your husband again, then, by all means, do it.”

“Okay.”

We scheduled the next appointment for next month, and though I would prefer weekly visits, I didn’t push it. Adam had calmed down during the appointment and he was on cloud nine from seeing the ultrasound. Plus, the child was healthy and so far, no complications arose but only the months will tell.

I told them to call me any time they need; especially if Daphnie starts feeling off in any way. I also gave them my number and let Adam know that we needed to talk privately when he gets the chance. After they left, I went to the forensic room: my private lab of sorts, and continued studying Maybell’s samples.

That was when I noticed some oddities in Maybell’s system. Adam may think I’m I’m a quack but the tests don’t lie: Maybell’s body is not normal and it had everything to do with Phil Sweetheart. That man is insane: to him, evolution is his god, and hearing what was in those journals made me a tad scared.

Because there’s no telling what will become of Maybell Sweetheart at this point.