Controlled Chaos (Deadly Dreams Book 1)

ACCLAIM FOR H.T. NIGHT:

“H.T. Night is a riveting storyteller, capturing the essence of the vampire genre.”

—
April M. Reign
, author of
Beyond Today
and
Dividing Destiny

“
The Werewolf Whisperer
is a wonderful story that incorporates friendship and love with a lot of great vampire action.”

—
Summer Lee
, author of
Angel Heart
and
Beach Angel

“A hip and timely vampire novel filled with real characters and some of the coolest vampires since
The Lost Boys
! You’re going to love Night’s completely original take on the supernatural.”

—
J.R. Rain
, author of
Moon Dance
and
The Body Departed

“
Bad Blood
is fast, hilarious and sexy. Rain, Nicholson and Night just might have created the coolest vampire since Kiefer Sutherland. The Mount Shasta setting is dreamy. The cult is deliciously creepy. And Spider is as sexy as they come. I was pressing the ereader’s ‘forward’ button so fast that I broke it. Let’s hope we hear more from Spider.”

—
H.P. Mallory
, bestselling author of
Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble
and
To Kill A Warlock

CONTROLLED

CHAOS

OTHER BOOKS BY H.T. NIGHT

VAMPIRE LOVE STORY

Vampire Love Story

The Werewolf Whisperer

Forever and Always

Vampires vs. Werewolves

One Love

Divine Blood

Sons of Josiah

Love Conquers All: Part One

Love Conquers All: Part Two

HEART OF A WITCH SERIES

Witch to Choose

A Witch’s Magic

DEADLY DREAMS

Controlled Chaos

Massacre Revealed

CONTROLED

CHAOS

/ / / /

H.T. NIGHT

Published by

Crop Circle Books

212 Third Crater, Moon

Copyright © 2014 by H.T. Night

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

First Edition

ISBN: 978-1-312-74469-1

Dedication

To my father.

Chapter One

4:00 p.m. Monday Evening

“He’s not going to make it.” The doctor looked at me, and I thought I was going to throw up.

“I can’t make a decision like this,” I said. I looked at my friend. He had put my name down as his power of attorney.

“You need my signature for that?” I said.

“Well, the copy we have has your signature.”

The doctor pulled a paper out of Dave’s file and handed it to me. It was my signature. “I remember now; he had me sign something about a week ago. He said it was for some kind of new treatment. I didn’t realize the treatment he was referring to was death. I didn’t realize that was what I was signing. He did a switcheroo with me.”

“Did he?” Dr. Gomez said to me. She was implying that my name was on there and that regardless of I said, I needed to step up to the plate. I needed to make a decision on behalf of my poor friend’s life. She didn’t care if there was a switcheroo, or hadn’t heard. She wanted me to be a humanitarian.

“Where is Dave’s usual doctor?”

“He’s on vacation.”

“Vacation? That’s what Dave has been reduced to. A backup doctor asking his crisis manager if he should live.”

“Weren’t you his good friend?” the doctor asked. “I knew he was your outpatient before he came in here two nights ago. He was always in the drug rehabilitation wing of the hospital. I used to take double shifts over there when I needed the extra money. Dave always talked about you. He always wanted us to call you. So please don’t call me a backup. I cared for Dave, just as you did.”

“Then you make the decision,” I said.

“I’m not his power of attorney. You are. And you have confessed to signing it. I’m sorry, Mr. Simon. It’s your call.”

“Look, Dr. Gomez,” I said. “I might have taken a liking to Dave. But I was only Dave’s crisis counselor. Nowhere in my job description does it say I need to make a decision as important as this one. Dave Crenshaw was a drug addict, through and through. Heroin was his demon, and he couldn’t beat it. By the time he became my outpatient, he was so far gone with his addiction that there was very little I could do for him. ”

“But, you managed to get close to him when it looks like no one else in this world was able to do that. Mr. Simon, your gift goes beyond being a mere crisis manager. You have compassion for the downtrodden. He knew you would make the right decision for his life.”

“He wants me to decide if he’s to be killed or not.” Just saying the words out loud made me nauseous.

The doctor looked at me with empathy in her eyes. “I know this is hard,” she said. “If it’s any consolation, you aren’t the one who is taking his life. His body’s rejection to the drugs has killed him. You’re just making a humane choice.”

“Is it a humane choice? Or are you just trying to make room in the hospital?”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” the doctor said to me.

“I’m not God,” I replied. “I can’t do it.” Maybe that was dramatic, but I was being asked to make a horrid decision.

“If you don’t make a loving decision on his behalf, then the hospital will be forced to make a medical one.” The doctor looked at me with her piercing brown eyes; she was a little bit attractive.

“Which is what?” I stood up and paced around the hospital bed, looking down at my ‘friend.’ His face looked so puffy I could barely recognize him. He had become a pretty decent friend of mine in the last few months. He had a great sense of humor and loved to talk sports. My kind of guy.

They claimed it was a drug overdose with an element of foul play, but that was the extent of it. The authorities didn’t think it was an attempted murder. If he wasn’t a drug addict, they would had been investigating this as a potential homicide. He was so badly beaten up.

“The hospital is obligated to keep him alive for another week and that’s it,” the doctor continued to speak to me. “Their decision will be a financial one. If you want to yell at anyone, you can yell at them. If you want him to leave this world on terms other than greed, you need to sign off before it’s too late. Sometimes the most merciful we can be is to pull the plug and let his light burn out.”

“There is no chance for him to come out of this?” I was asking because I was deciding. She’d hooked my liberal sensibilities.

Doctor Gomez looked at me and simply said, “No, there isn’t.”

“So, there is no use keeping him alive?” I asked desperately. “What if he comes out of it, and he can tell the police who kicked his ass, and left him for dead.”

“Do you think that’s what happened here?” she asked me.

“You don’t?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“I see a drug addict who needs fluids, and if he has any injuries, they probably occurred when his overdose kicked in and he fell to the ground.”

“Look at him!” I said, raising my voice. “You think he fell down. Someone obviously beat the crap out of him before he overdosed. Is anyone investigating that?”

The truth of the matter was that I had grown very fond of my outpatient. He was an honest guy. Drugs had a hold of him and he knew all the consequences. He wanted to live, but didn’t like the way he was living.

“We need to make a humane decision,” the doctor said. “He put all the power in your hands, Mr. Crenshaw, and obviously cared for you in a way that I’m not even sure you understand. He knew his addiction was leading him down a very dangerous road. You were this light at the end of a tunnel. Like I said, he spoke quite eloquently about you often.”

“I was just there for him. As any friend would be.”

“Then be there for him now.” Doctor Gomez gave me an honest, sincere stare. She continued, “I think in the end, he might have seen a premonition of something like this happening. I have seen some off things with addicts at the end of their rope. It’s prophetic that he would meet with a hospital administrator and fill out his bereavement paper just one week ago. For something like this to happen to him…it’s heartbreaking.” The doctor paused and gave me a warm smile. “I know this isn’t easy. I’m asking you to make a humane decision based on the quality of life this man has left.”

I looked down at this man who had come to me for help. By the time he got to me, he was so environmentally and socially addicted to heroin and alcohol that it didn’t matter how many times he went through drug rehab. The demon had gotten the best of him. This was a hard decision, and it wasn’t fair that he’d put it in my hands. But nonetheless, he did. I glanced to the nurse and said, “Give me a minute alone.”

The nurse left and I paced around the room, staring at my outpatient. In my line of work, I tended to get really close to my patients. Sometimes, I stayed up all night just to keep them clean. Dave, the man lying in front of me, was no exception. I gave him all I had and probably a little more than I could even give. It didn’t matter, because it only took two days without my influence and he overdosed. Put himself straight into a coma. He was only 32 years old. The same age as me. And it somehow was my decision to end his life?

I walked over, grabbed a chair, sat next to him, and held his left hand. My emotions usually got the best of me, and this time was no different. Tears dripped from my eyes. I looked at his black and blue face. I heard the ventilator breathing for him. I had to face the fact that he was now a vegetable.

I looked up towards the ceiling and called out to anyone who would listen.

“Why?” I said. “Why do you put me in these people’s lives to just watch them die one by one?” My heart felt overwhelmed and I looked at my friend. He had become dear to me over the last few months. We fought for his life together, but he lost. The drugs had beaten him.

“Take him, and free him.” I looked up and wiped my eyes. I rose to my feet, and walked towards the door. I opened it and the nurse was right outside. I stared at her and said, “End it.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “But that’s my decision. Call my office and we’ll arrange his funeral. They’ll tell you where to send his body.”

With that, I walked down the hall, went into the administration office, and signed my friend’s death warrant.