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Flash Fiction: No More Doctors
Callum stood by the kitchen counter, facing the wall. His hands gripped the edge of the worktop. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”
“What do you mean?” Enid stooped over her walking stick, still in her nightgown.
Callum lifted a white bottle and held it upside down. It was empty.
“Oh, Callum, you know those things give me nightmares; I just couldn’t take them anymore.”
“What did you do with them? Flush them down the toilet? I heard you in the bathroom last night.”
“Callum…” she hobbled towards him.
“Those pills aren’t cheap you know.” He let go of the bottle and it hit the counter; it rolled off the edge and smashed on the floor.
“I didn’t ask you to buy them.”
“The doctor said…”
“The doctor knows nothing! He don’t know what those pills do to me.”
“If you just book another appointment…”
“I’m sick of appointments. They poke me and jab me like a rat in a cage.” Enid shivered and rubbed her arms. She shook her head. “No, no, no. No more appointments. No more doctors.”
Callum turned to face her for the first time. He crossed his arms sternly, but when he saw Enid’s frightened face, he let them fall by his side. “Oh mum, what am I going to do with you?”
Enid continued to shake; Callum brought her head to his chest and she snuggled into him. Callum stroked her wiry hair. “Come on, I’ll make breakfast. What do you want? Eggs?”