Chapter 408 Better Off Dead
Mike got moved to the quietest, most tucked-away room in the hospital. Hardly anyone ever came by. On a normal day, you wouldn't see a single soul pass through.
They swapped out his caregiver for this super chill middle-aged guy with a warm smile. The dude was gentle and took care of Mike like he was his own kid, sticking around 24/7, only stepping out for bathroom breaks or to grab some food.
But Mike was pissed. He felt like Luann had him locked up. She took his phone, saying he needed "peace and quiet to recover," and with his legs busted, he couldn't even get out of bed.
Basically, Mike had zero ways to reach the outside world.
His body, which had just started to bounce back, got wrecked again from all the treatments. He was nauseous, puking, his stomach felt like it was on fire, and he was gassy as hell, constantly letting one rip.
He had a bunch of mouth sores, making it hurt like hell to swallow, and even his taste buds seemed off. Mentally, he was a wreck, couldn't sleep at night, and was super cranky.
Mike got what it meant to feel better off dead. But every time he thought about how he could get back to a normal life if he could just escape Luann, he clung to hope. He hoped Brianna would save him, hoped Juliet would save him. He wanted to live.
"Mr. Weaver, please eat something," the caregiver said, sitting in a chair and gently urging him. There were many foods on the table, such as baked potatoes, steamed broccoli, chicken breast sandwiches, and vegetable soup.
Mike's mouth twitched violently as he flipped the table over, sending soup and food splattering everywhere.
The caregiver let out a deep sigh. This wasn't the first time. He cleaned up the mess, looking troubled, and said, "Mr. Weaver, you're really sick right now. You have to take a ton of meds every day. If you don't eat, how's your body gonna hold up? I know being sick sucks, and it's normal to feel upset and cranky, but you can't mess around with your life. If something happens to you, I won't be able to explain it to Luann."
Hearing Luann's name made Mike furious. "Get out! You all want to kill me, teaming up with the hospital against me, right? Do you want to go to jail? You think having power makes you untouchable, that you can just ignore other people's lives? Tell Luann to let me go within three days! Otherwise, I'll take her down with me! If I suffer, she won't have it easy either!"
The caregiver had heard this kind of rant so many times his ears were practically numb. He mumbled a couple of vague responses. "Got it. Is there anything you want to eat? I'll go out and get it for you."
"I just..." Mike paused, like he suddenly thought of something, and gradually calmed down. After a full two minutes, he spoke again, "The place where I want to eat is a bit far. Can you go get it for me?"
The caregiver replied, "Of course, Luann told me to fulfill your requests as best as I can."
Mike sneered. They wouldn't even give him a phone, yet they had the nerve to say that. "Alright, I'll tell you the address, and you go buy the food for me."
"Okay." After jotting down the address, the caregiver left.
The hallway was dead silent. Mike listened closely for a bit, and once he was sure no one was around, he reached for the bedside table.
His lower body was completely useless. He had to rely on his upper arms to drag himself. On the table, there were lilies the caregiver had just put there that morning.
Mike's breathing was rough and painful. He gritted his teeth, wrapped his arms around the sides of the bedside table, and used his chest to push himself downward. But the table couldn't handle his weight and suddenly tipped over.
Mike let out a painful scream. Along with the sound of the vase shattering on the floor, he shakily pulled his hands back, three of his fingernails torn off, blood already oozing out. The pain made him break out in a cold sweat.
There were shards of glass all over the floor, making it impossible to go that way. Mike had to change direction. This time, he chose to crawl directly onto the floor. He looked like a big, struggling pet, his upper body on the ground while his lower body stayed on the bed.
With a thud, his legs hit the floor like dead weight. The pain made Mike lie there for a good ten minutes. His hands couldn't exert any force anymore, so he switched to using his forearms to prop himself up, inching his way toward the door. A few short steps felt like an endless journey.
"Almost there, almost there," Mike kept telling himself.
'As long as I get out of the hospital, I can call for help. Once I contact Juliet, I won't have to suffer like this anymore.' Thinking this, a glimmer of hope appeared in Mike's eyes. But he had no idea that his every move was being recorded.
"What are you watching so intently?" A deep, husky voice came from behind.
Myron had seen Luann sitting cross-legged on the couch from a distance, a tablet on her lap. She was watching something while shelling peanuts.
He walked over, glanced at the screen, and casually sat behind Luann, his hands sliding around her waist. He pulled her into his lap.
"Mike's got a pretty strong will to live," Myron said mockingly as he carefully shelled peanuts.
Luann chewed, her eyes lighting up. "Hey, why are the peanuts you shell so perfect? Mine always end up broken."
Myron smiled and lowered his eyes, his long lashes fluttering, and focused intently on the peanut in his hand. With his slender fingers, he gently shelled the peanut, applying just the right amount of pressure to easily extract it.
"Teach me," Luann said, resting the back of her head on his shoulder and looking up, her voice playful.
Myron kissed her hair lightly. The faint scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils and spread through his entire being like a life-giving force. "You don't need to know. Just ask me to shell them if you need."
