Crowed (Team Zero #2) by Rina Kent

The nearest town is a forty-five minute drive through unkempt roads and countless twists and turns amongst dense trees. After the war, my grandfather decided to become a recluse from humanity so he built this mansion as far away as possible from privy eyes.

That also made the place disconnected from civilisation.

One thing my grandfather got right about this location is the peace and quiet. Beside the waves crashing into the shore and the occasional seagulls’ shrieks, nothing disrupts my quiet.

I close the front gate, place my bag in the passenger seat of my old Range Rover, and hit the rocky road. As soon as I reach town, mismatched sounds filter in. People in their summer clothes and flip-flops crowd the streets. Our town is popular with other European nations, Americans and even North Africans. Tourists keep pouring in like a flood. My temples throb. I raise the volume of the radio to stop getting caught in the chaos.

I stop by the post office to collect my mail. Back in my car, I filter through the envelopes.

Notice from the bank.

Notice about cutting off water and electricity if I don’t pay the bills soon.

Notice about Maman’s non-paid medical expenses.

Seemed that my second name is debts. I extinguished all my work-related loans and had to take some additional loans from community services.

I never batted an eye when I took them or when I mortgaged the house to the bank. Back then, I had the hope that Maman would get better and we’d build our lives from scratch.

That hope withered away after every failed surgery until it faded to black with her death.

More flipping through the envelopes produces a letter that almost stops my heart.

With frantic fingers, I open the letter from the bank.

Notice of property confiscation in two months if I don’t clear my debts.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard, a coppery taste fills my mouth.

Merde.

Since the announcement of Maman’s death, I never thought the hollowness lodged deep inside me could get any worse.

My grandfather’s house is the last shard of reality I have left. Papa used all his architectural credentials to design and built it with his own hands. Ever since I was born, I only knew that house. Maman was also born and raised in the house. It’s the last thing I have of her. Of Papa.

Of life.

If it’s taken away, what am I still existing for?



*****



An automatic smile plasters on my face as I do my rounds in the hospital. The scent of detergent in the nearly-empty hallway brings back the peace that was disrupted during my short stop in town.

People, in general, hated the hospital smell, but it brings me peace and familiarity.

Mrs Bordeaux tells me about her troublesome daughter-in-law as I change her bandages.

“If only I had a daughter-in-law like you,” she says. “So caring and kind.”

Believe me, you don’t want a broken person like me near you.

“You flatter me, Mrs Bordeaux.” I offer her as much of a genuine smile as I can muster and move on to the next patient. My movements are automated, and I catch myself zoning out from some patients’ chatter.

Merde.

This is a lot worse than it’s supposed to be.

I became a nurse to take care of Maman and other people who were too weak to tend to themselves, but now that she’s gone, I’m losing all the passion I had for my job.

As I roll my cart through the hallway, my gaze falls on the medical supplies. How easy it would be to pick up a syringe, fill it with a lethal dose of Vecuronium bromide and just go. End this numbness once and for all.

Join Maman and Papa.

Only I’m too cowardly to kill myself. And I can’t leave Charlotte all alone.

Besides, how can I face them when I’m losing the house?

A finger taps on my shoulder, ripping me out of my suicidal daydreams. I stop the cart and turn around to meet Xavier’s boyish grin – despite being in his mid-thirties. His brown hair falls in curls on his forehead. His open white coat reveals a buttoned-up light blue shirt and khaki trousers. There’s always some hint of cigarette smell on him underneath the antiseptic. He doesn’t smoke so I’m not sure where he gets it from.

“How are you tonight, Eloise?” he asks in a warm tone.

“I’m fine, Dr Leroux.”

Smile. Keep smiling.

It’s better to say I’m fine instead of explaining all the screeching chaos numbed under the surface.

“Come on.” He walks beside me. “I told you to call me Xavier. We’ve known each other for months.”

I nod. Although he’s only a general practitioner, Xavier did a lot to help Maman. He even visited us at home when she couldn’t move, but none of his efforts could fool death.

A blood stain catches my attention on his shirt’s cuff. I point at it. “That could be contaminated.”

He frowns at his bloodied cuff like it’s not supposed to be there. “You’re right. I’ll have to change.” He touches my arm to stop and make me face him. “It must’ve been tough on you all this time. Do you need anything?”

I focus on the light violet colour of my uniform and bite the inside of my cheek. Then I glance up at him from beneath my lashes. “Is it possible to apply for another loan?”

“What for?” His brows furrow.

“I have… debts.”

“I’m afraid not. You still have overdue debts to the hospital after all.” His brown eyes fill with the pity that everyone has been giving me since I lost Maman.