Chapter 59, Dr. Clay (Cult of Eros #1)
Here’s chapter 59 of the new book, Dr. Clay, I’ve been writing since NaNoWriMo 2022. Enjoy reading. Let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.
Chapter 59
Clay looked dashing in his white gown and Crocs as he went to the hospital.
“You told me once. This is what being an Elizondo is all about. How couldn’t I know this family so well? Do you remember when you said I don’t have any right to dream because I am an Elizondo? Well, let me tell you this. You’re mistaken.” He paused again and looked at him with anguish on his face and despair that hid behind his teary eyes.
“Because of you, Valon’s life was a mess. I lost a father who truly loves me.” He paused and leaned forward until he was centimeters away from his face. His eyes widened. “If you escaped justice before because of this fucking last name, I’ll make sure this time you won’t. It’s time for you to pay for everything you owe.”
He looked at the intravenous tubes, loosely holding each tube, stroking it with his fingers, while his eyes trailed them to his father’s nose. A deep sense of contempt printed on his face. Dissatisfied, he leaned onto him until he was close enough for him to hear his whisper. “Goodbye, Dad.”
He pushed away and straightened himself with a feeling of possibility overtaking him. The sensation seemed wholly unfamiliar because he had not felt it in so long. The idea that something might have to change for the better had become a foreign concept to him. The hell was over.
After leaving the room, Clay flashed kind smiles to those who saw him strolling the hallways until he reached the hospital’s exit door and left.
***
After returning home to his penthouse, Clay was at loose ends. He didn’t even bother turning on the ceiling lights. There wasn’t anything he wanted to do there. Though he was tired, he couldn’t sleep. He knew as soon as he closed his eyes, the images of Valon would appear behind his lids. They had been keeping him awake. Each image brought back a memory in vivid detail. Each one haunted him.
Then, his eyes caught the package he had received earlier. He opened it and saw the camera Valon had used. He browsed the files, from one photo to the next, one video to the next. When he saw the candid photo of him, showing his smile, he couldn’t help but burst into tears. Then, he went on to the next one. It was a video. The final one.
He wanted to play it on a bigger screen. Luckily, the package had included the accessories he needed. So, he took out the HDMI cable and connected the camera to his smart TV. When he had everything set up, he jumped on his couch and grabbed a pillow. Then, he clicked play.
His heart skipped when he saw Valon fixing the camera angle, wearing an amber-colored scarf wrapped around his neck that matched his Boho look. He looked a bit more prepared—like he was presenting it as a department head than a lover. He had a bit of makeup on. His lips were glossy and pink. He even wore the same exotic pair of earrings he saw the first day he met him in his clinic.
His grin reached his ears, watching Valon struggle to find the right angle and zoom settings. When he heard him cussing, getting more and more frustrated, he giggled. “That’s so Valon De Lara,” he whispered.
His eyes ran over the background. It looked familiar. Ah, it was in his atelier. After a few minutes of trial and error, Valon finally found the right settings. He watched him sitting on a stool, smiling, until he heard him clearing his throat. He looked awkward at first, clearly unused to sitting like that, filming himself.
“Hi, Clay. How are you doing? I, ah…” Valon paused and looked above like he was searching for the words to say. He was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat again. He lowered his head and sighed. It wasn’t a sigh of relief but anxiety spilling all over his face. He bit his lower lip and then twitch his mouth before he continued.
“I’m sorry, I got distracted. Well, anyway, if you’re watching this right now, I hope you’re fine with Liz. Even though I won’t be there with you anymore, I always wish you keep smiling because I hated seeing you cry.” He paused to catch his breath as if he was trying to restrain himself from getting carried away with his emotions. He swallowed and cleared his throat again. “I tried everything I could to make you happy, even though I would never know I would own your heart.” He flashed his typical grin. An ear-to-ear grin.
Before he spoke, Clay hugged the pillow even more tightly because he could feel his heart pounding. He gripped the cushion more tightly as the pause grew longer.
“I loved it when you told me you wanted to be my muse. Though the experience was brief, I could easily tell you these were the best moments of my life. Those nights I spent with you, those conversations we had, I didn’t realize I was slowly falling for you. I didn’t know when it started, and when I did, it was already too late. I was too in love to stop. I didn’t know that I had been hurting you all along. I really feel so bad I’m doing it to you. I am so sorry.” He paused and lowered his head as if he was in a deep thought. After a minute, he raised himself and stared at the camera.
Clay’s chest warmed as he pictured him standing right there, staring at him. His heart throbbed triple time, feeling as if he was there with him. He felt choked, feeling the ice-cold air blanketing his body. The longer the silence was, the colder it became. The longer Valon refused to speak, the more anxious he was.
“If there’s one thing I’d like you to remember, wherever you are right now, I want you to know that I will always love you. Because no matter what happens, you will always own my heart.” His voice was low, loving, but deprived. He sounded eager but depressed. Then, Valon rose from his chair, approaching the camera. The video stopped, and the darkness resumed.
When the silence became loud, Clay drew a great breath and emptied his lungs, screaming until his throat felt like it was tearing apart. The tears crawling down from his eyes were endless. Bottomless. He didn’t mind the painful burning sensation in his chest and eyes, hoping he would find relief. He thought he deserved it. He deserved it for a choice he was forced to make.
Hours later, his voice hung in the silence for a minute and then dropped. It left nothing but the sounds of the storm to fill the void as the rain drummed against the wall. He was there leaning against the couch. His arm rested on his knee, listening to the element’s anger. He didn’t move. He didn’t budge. Not even the loudest cracks of thunders jolted him.
“I really don’t deserve the good things in life,” he whispered. After several minutes, he breathed out a small, rueful laugh. “Because I lost him.”
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