Chapter 3

Della's POV

After being publicly humiliated by Coralie, I hid in the restroom, running cold water over the blisters on the back of my hand. I hastily wrapped it in gauze and gritted my teeth through the rest of the morning.

Just before noon, Sutton texted me: Emergency bypass. Can't make it for lunch.

I grabbed a microwaveable mac and cheese bowl and walked into the breakroom. It was packed with coworkers eating. I shoved my food into the microwave, set it for two minutes, and turned around to pour some water.

The microwave's glass door shattered outward without warning. Boiling, sticky cheese sauce fired out like a shotgun blast, splashing directly onto me. Thank God the machine had just started and the food wasn't scorching hot yet—otherwise, the blast would have severely burned me.

The breakroom fell dead silent for two seconds.

Then, the laughter exploded.

"Jesus! She can't even use a microwave?"

"Did Dr. Sutton marry a walking hazard? Stay away from her before you catch some shrapnel!"

I stood frozen, globs of thick cheese dripping from my scrubs. The suffocating feeling of being hunted from all sides—exactly like my past life—gripped my throat.

I remembered now. It was exactly like this before. Every machine, every button in this hospital turned into a weapon the moment I touched it. In my past life, I was so terrified of the malice that I didn't even dare drink a cup of hot water, ultimately dying from sheer psychological torture.

I finally survived until shift change. Sutton was still in surgery. I dragged my feet to the locker room and tapped my badge against my electronic locker.

"ILLEGAL ACCESS!"

The red light strobed wildly; a buzzer blared through the hall. No matter how many times I swiped my badge or punched my code, the metal door wouldn't budge.

"Breaking things again, Mrs. Brennan?" Nurse Lorne rolled his eyes dramatically as he walked by. "Need me to call security? You've tripped more alarms today than I have in a decade."

He casually swiped his own badge on the locker next to mine. Click. It popped right open. Lorne gave a cold laugh, whistling as he walked away.

At 8:00 PM, Sutton finally stepped off the operating table and took me home.

The second the front door clicked shut, the shadow of my past life's violent death and the day's crushing humiliation collapsed on me all at once. I broke.

I tore my hand from his grip, tears welling in my eyes.

"I'm quitting! Sutton, I can't stay there another day!"

I ripped up my sleeves, shoving the blistered back of my hand and scalded wrist right into his face.

"Everything in that hospital is trying to kill me! The pain pumps, the Pyxis, the microwave, the lockers—they're all out to get me! If I stay out there, I am going to die!"

Sutton froze. He let out a long sigh, tossed his briefcase onto the sofa, and walked over, gently cupping my face.

His eyes were still soft, filled with a forgiving but patronizing patience.

"Sweetheart, you're just stressed," he rubbed my cheek with his thumb. "It's your first day on your own, you're adjusting to new equipment. People let their imaginations run away with them when they're tense."

"It's not my imagination! The machine doors are flying open on their own!"

"Ashgrove is the highest-paying hospital in the state with the best benefits," Sutton cut me off, his voice gentle but absolute. "More importantly, we finally ended our long-distance setup. Do you really want to go back to that run-down hospital and live apart again?"

He kissed my forehead and patted my shoulder. "Be good. Give it a few more days."

He let go of me and turned toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."

The door closed, and the sound of running water echoed in the room.

I slumped onto the couch, trembling violently. Doubt and helplessness choked my heart like vines. Was I actually losing my mind? Was I just being overly sensitive?

Just then, the screen of Sutton's phone—left carelessly on the coffee table—lit up. A new message.

I instinctively glanced down.

Just one look, and the blood drained from my body.

I stared at the screen, my breathing stopped.

I finally knew what those hospital "accidents" really were.