Chapter 16

During the course of the next few days, Carol kept to herself.

She didn't feel like talking to anyone. Also, she began to wonder if maybe it wouldn't be wise for her to just get out of the hospital and go to work somewhere else. But then, as she recalled, Wayne had at one time threatened her by stating that he could see to it that the information concerning her and Larry was imparted to anybody in any hospital in the city.

She felt that there was no way she could get away from the man. He was so clever and sinister, that somehow he would see that the information got across, no matter where she went. If she went to another city, she could always use an alias, but then there would be the question of references. How could she answer that?

As long as she wanted to stay in nursing, it appeared that she was hooked. She was beholden to Wayne. But she knew she couldn't tolerate him for much longer. It was just too much.

One afternoon she assisted him on an operation.

She was hoping to slip out of the room after it had been completed, but Wayne wouldn't have any of it.

"Just a moment, please, Carol MacDonald," he said in a crisp voice. "I'd like for you to remain. I'd like to discuss some business with you."

She observed two of the interns winking at each other and smiling, reconizing the kind of business that Wayne apparently had in mind.

They left the room. After the assisting nurses had left as well, and at a time when both of them were alone, Wayne walked over and locked the operating room door.

"Why are you doing that?" she asked fearfully.

"Because I figured we can have ourselves a little action."

"In the operating room here?"

"Of course. It's not in use. We've got a bed here. My cock is itchy. I think you're just the person to lick it."

"Wayne, these demands have to stop," she said unhappily. "You are just ruining me. It's a disgrace. You just get me to do whatever you want."

"Stop your gripping. You're lucky you've got a hot, handsome guy like me around to have sex with."

"But it's so humiliating. And everybody knows what's going on."

"What the hell do I care?" he laughed. "I don't give a damn what anybody thinks or knows about, just as long as I keep getting my kicks."

"You only think about yourself."

"That's because I'm way ahead of anybody else."

"I guess you do feel that way. And it's really a disgusting attitude."

"Don't moralize with me, baby."

He reached out and grabbed hold of her. He kissed her several times roughly, throwing his arms around her body.

"Relax, sweetheart," he said. "What the hell are you doing getting so uptight? I mean, we've balled before, so you shouldn't be getting that uptight at all. As a matter-of-fact, you ought to be relaxing, you ought to be enjoying this kind of action. Sometimes I just don't understand you, baby, sometimes I just don't understand you at all."

"Maybe I don't like being treated like the hospital slut," she exploded.

"Hell, you certainly weren't bothered by any of those thoughts when you had sex with young Larry, were you?"

"Maybe I made a mistake with Larry, but I'm just sick and tired of this whole thing. I'm not going to take any more from you, Wayne, I've had it."

"Like hell you have."

Once more he reached out and grabbed hold of her. She attempted to struggle free, but was unable to do so, as he plunged his lips against hers.

Her whole body twisted and turned as she attempted to get away from his grasp, but she was unable to break away.

He finally released his lips from hers.

"What the hell are you squirming about?" he asked angrily.

"Maybe I want a little freedom."

"You're leaning on me, honey, you're leaning hard," he said. "All I've got to do is drop the word, all I've got to do is drop the word to the right person. Then you've had it, you've really had it. Now I'm just warning you."

"I'm leaving this room."

"No, you're not."

"You can't stop me."

"The hell I can't," he laughed.

"Please, please don't be so mean. Please don't be so demanding."

"Aw, stop that crying. I'm getting damned sick of the whole thing."

He reached out and grabbed her again. This time his fingers went to work on her nurse's uniform.

"Let's get your clothes off," he said. "I just might want to lick your mound too."

She struggled for several seconds. Then he reached out and slapped her several times across the face, knocking her backwards against the operating table.

"Now don't hand me any more crap," he said. "I'll beat the living daylights out of you if I have to, to get my way. I want you, woman, and I'm going to have you. I was determined from the first time I met you that I was going to have you, and there's not going to be any other way about it. You understand, baby?"

She was sprawled against the wall, very much in the midst of a daze.

She placed her right hand against her upper lip, discovering that she had had it cut by him.

She knew exactly how determined he was, and that she could expect a beating if she in any way bucked him.

Now he was on top of her again in a flash. He reached out and attempted to pull off the top of her uniform.

As he did so, she reacted sharply, biting the index finger of his right hand.

"Oh, goddamn it," he gasped angrily, pulling his hand away.

At first he stood there looking at her painfully, then exploded into rage.

"You shouldn't have done that, you little bitch," he said. "Now I'm going to beat the hell out of you and get the sex that I want. You've really been asking for it, and now you're going to get the lesson that you deserve."

He stepped forward once more. Again she felt a rain of blows as he slapped her several times in rapid succession across the face.

She staggered once more, falling hard against the wall.

As she attempted to shake the cobwebs clear of her brain, she observed the surgeon's knife resting atop the table.

He moved toward her once more. His face was red and his body trembling in anger.

"I'm going to fix you, really fix you," he threatened.

She observed him pulling that hand back once more.

Just as he was about to strike her, she reached out and grabbed hold of that knife.

As he took a step toward her, she thrust the knife into her right hand then put it toward his stomach.

Her face turned white and she gasped as he ran into the knife. She observed the spurts of blood coming from his stomach, after which he pulled off and dropped to the floor.

He lay there on the ground, covered with his own blood.

"Oh no, oh no," she whispered to herself.

She leaned over and grabbed his right wrist, feeling his pulse.

"Oh no, my God, he's dead, he's dead," she sobbed.

Carol MacDonald immediately turned herself in to the police, revealing all of the details concerning the death of Wayne Ames.

She could hardly talk. She had never done a violent deed in her life prior to that time. It was terrible, she thought, how she had let her passions run away with her in the case of one patient. Then, in place of facing up to things fearlessly, she had allowed an ego maniacal young doctor with neurotic impulses to use her sexually.

She reiterated time and again to the police officer who questioned her that she had acted in self-defense, that he had hurt her, had cut her lip, had dazed her, and that she was barely aware of who she was and where she was. She didn't know but what he could have killed her unless she had reacted as sharply as she had, when she had.

They looked at her skeptically. She wasn't the least bit surprised, since they had no doubt heard such stories from a number of women.

But the longer that she told the story, the more she noticed the skepticism disappearing.

Finally a man from the District Attorney's office came in and talked to her. A short time later a police officer came in and said:

"You can go now."

"I can?"

"That's right. The D.A.'s office isn't going to prosecute."

"They're not?"

"No, they view it as justifiable homicide," the officer explained. "They say it's a clear-cut case of self-defense. I am inclined to agree. You seem like an honest girl who got confused. See to it that it doesn't happen again. Next time you might not be so fortunate."

"I realize that," she nodded sadly.

"A friend of yours is waiting outside," he said.

"Who is that?"

"A Betty Johnson."

"Oh yes, my room mate."

She left the interrogation room and threw her arms around Betty Johnson. Now the tears were streaming down her face.

Never again, she thought, would she ever get involved in such a predicament.