Page 2 of The Masquerade: Room 2

“You need to toughen up, you little wimp. I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“Please, Daddy… no.” I know what those words mean. A lesson is when you hit someone. I don’t like it when Daddy gives me lessons. It makes my skin hurt and Mommy cry.

I quickly crawl under the bed. Daddy’s too big to get under here.

“You stupid little fuck.”

I bite down on Snoofle to stop myself from screaming.

“Pierce.”

His feet are moving. I turn my face away, but all I can see are the pieces of my broken toy all over the carpet. I close my eyes tight and think of Mommy. Please come home. I don’t want Daddy to hit me. His hands are so big, and it hurts a lot. His fingers tighten around my ankle and pull. I try to hold onto my bed, but he’s too strong. His voice gets loud as he grabs me and throws me against the wall, just like he did with my toy. “I’ll teach you.”

“Pierce!” Mommy, I knew you’d save me.

Daddy makes a weird groaning sound and then stops shouting. He isn’t making any noise now. There are funny dots in my eyes, and it makes it hard to see Mommy. But I hear her, and I can smell her perfume as she drops to the floor, pulling me into her arms. The dots get bigger until all I see is black. Mommy sounds far away.

“Pierce… stay with me.”

“Mommy.”

Chapter 1

PIERCE

“If you’re not here to learn, I can’t help you. Are you wasting my time? Do you already possess the skills to save this man’s life?”

“No, sir.”

I hate interns. They come in here cocky as hell, thinking they’re ready to wield a scalpel. If I did that as an intern, I’d have been shown the door quicker than the crack of a whip.

“Then please explain to your fellow doctors why you were talking about your dinner plans while I operate on someone’s brain. I’m sure this poor man would love to know your burger and fries are more important than his ability to speak, comprehend, and remember his family when I’m done. Please, hotshot, step up and show us how it’s done.”

Intern—whatever—I don’t need to know their names. They come through here every year, and it’s the same damn story every fucking time. There’s the guy who thinks he has the balls to be a surgeon, who inevitably suffers from micro dick. Then, there’s the teacher’s pet, who wants to climb so far up my ass they could examine my larynx. My least favorite are the ones who fawn over me. The way a doctor drops in my estimation, is to try and sleep their way through their intern year.

There are no prizes for a good lay. I love to fuck as much as the next man—I’d venture to say much more than the average—but surgery is the one area of my life that isn’t ruled by my dick. When I’m in the operating room, I am at my most peaceful. Holding someone’s life in my hands is an honor and a privilege I don’t take lightly.

“I apologize, Dr. Harrison.”

“Don’t apologize. Just be better.” I address the other interns as I prepare to close. “There is no room for apologies when you’ve got a patient open on the table. You’re in the big leagues now. All that book learning means nothing if you don’t have what it takes to step up and focus in this room. Until you’re ready to take it seriously, you can all go and sit in the gallery.”

They filter out like petulant children, and I can’t see them as anything else. Was I this green when I was an intern? I’d like to think not, but I’m sure my attendings saw me as a cocky young idiot with no concept of what it takes to be the best of the best.

I finish suturing my patient, thankful for another successful outcome. Then comes the best part of my job—telling a family their loved one will be around for birthdays, Christmases, and many years to come. That’s what I live for.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Harrison. You are an angel sent from God.”

I clear my throat, amused by their observation. It’s amazing that I’m an angel in one person’s story and a devil in others. All I can do is exist in the space between and find happiness where possible.

“Your husband got through surgery like a champ. He’s in recovery right now, awake and responsive. One of the nurses will take you back to see him. I’ll be by to check on him before I leave for the night.” I offer a firm handshake and a tight smile.

As much as I love giving good news, I don’t particularly enjoy interacting with people. I have a few select friends, and I’m good with that.

When my shift is long over and I finish writing up my charts for the day, I decide to head to the club for the rest of the night.

Venom is my safe haven here in Manhattan. It’s a place where I can exist outside the hospital, kick back and relax, and it’s not a life or death situation. I get to be someone completely different within the walls of Venom, where pleasure is king, pain is consensual, and orgasm is guaranteed.

The moment I walk through the doors, I’m greeted by my small group of friends—people who don’t know me as Dr. Harrison, the most prominent neurosurgeon in the country. Here, I’m just Pierce.

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