Whatever I want? Even sell?
I exhale a slow, deep breath, attempting to rid myself of the ungrateful teenage hormones surging through my blood. This house, a gift from my rock star brother-in-law, is beyond generous. It’s ludicrous. But it’s not what I want.
I want freedom. Like Mel Gibson in Braveheart. I want to make my own choices. To live my life the wayIchoose to live it.
It could be the most opulent, extravagant house in the country, but all it will ever be to me is another prison. Especially given the pinched-faced warden I’m forced to share it with - my new personal bodyguard, Vince, who lingers in the doorway behind us, eyes darting suspiciously like Chucky himself might just leap out from under the bed with an axe.
Sasha’s warm hand rests on my forearm and I turn to meet huge jade eyes which glint with excitement.
I can’t mimic even a smidgeon of Sasha’s enthusiasm.
‘Is this really necessary?’ My hands rest defiantly on my hips as I eyeball the mountain-sized man assigned to guard my back for the foreseeable future.
Thoughts of Archie infiltrate my mind, reoccurring repeatedly, no matter how many times I mentally swat them away. Tall, broad, with dirty blond hair and an even dirtier laugh, Archie is like a younger Daniel Craig starring as James Bond, only way hotter.
He also happens to be my first crush.
Why did he decline the position as my bodyguard? After accompanying me to several events as my security, I wrongly assumed he’d jump at the chance. If I have to be tailed twenty-four-seven for the supposed best days of my life, having a six-foot-four blond Adonis doing the tailing might have taken the edge off.
Regret clouds Sasha’s previously bright eyes. ‘You know it is, sweetheart.’ Slim, warm fingers squeeze my arm. ‘With the wedding, we can’t take the chance. The paps are frantically pursuing all of us. I’m sorry.’
The familiar nausea-inducing guilt threatens inside. The last thing I want for my selfless, stunning sister is for her to feel bad. She already gave up most of her twenties to raise me. I refuse to kick up a stink and rob her of her thirties, too.
‘Maybe things will die down, you know, after the wedding…’ I glance hopefully at Vince, who’s adopted his usual rigid, but ready for danger stance, five feet away from us.
Sasha swallows hard, her dainty neck bobbing as she bites her lower lip apologetically before reminding me about the movie.
A huge sigh whooshes from my chest, but I nod like the good girl I’ve always tried to be. But being good is getting harder with each passing day. I’m torn between screaming at the injustice of barely being allowed to pee on my own and trying not to rock the boat.
A feisty, independent new adult stirs inside, determined to burst like a piñata, in a glorious hormone-infused display of rebellion.
And I’m not sure how much longer I can hold her back.
VICTORIA
FIVE YEARS LATER…
Is it a full moon? Because this shift has seen one lunatic after another arrive relentlessly through doors of accident and emergency.
My scrubs cling to my sweat-sheened skin, along with the thick crimson blood of the patient occupying the hospital trolley before me. It trickles across my forearm, inching closer towards my hand as I attempt to restrain the patient’s flailing arms. ‘Sit still please, Mr …’ I glance at his chart again, ‘…Assman.’ How appropriate.
He clutches his nose with one hand while the other continues violently lashing out in my direction.
‘You crazy bitch!’ he shouts, clutching his bleeding nose. Alcohol fumes from his rancid breath sting my eyes.
Unlike most patients arriving through these doors, this one didn’t come in bleeding.
No, I ‘accidentally’ elbowed him in the face. I’m a great doctor, but even I have my limits. When his grubby, persistent hand reached for my breast for the fourth time, I snapped. He’d already repeatedly requested mouth-to-mouth, insisting, as a woman, it’s all I’m good for.
If only he knew what this woman is truly good for is a hot shower and several large glasses of wine after fifteen hours of firefighting one catastrophe after another.
My best friends are waiting for me in a fancy bar on George Street and I’m itching to get there before the damn place closes for the night. Work hard, play harder, and all that. Drinking and dancing my ass off is my favourite hobby.
It’s tempting to leave the ungrateful fool here unattended, but I didn’t put in five hard years at med school to get myself struck off the register mere months before I graduate.
‘I can’t help you if you won’t sit still.’
Jen, a middle-aged, maternal-looking nurse assisting me, tosses me a look that says,‘What the fuck are we going to do with this one?’
