TRANSMIGRATED I CAN HEAR THE PSYCHO ALPHA INNER VOICE

The shrill sound of my alarm clock sliced through my ears like a knife. Still half-asleep, I stretched out my hand, knocked it off the bedside table, and went back to sleep.

 BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The alarm clock went off again for the second time.

 "Please let me sleep a little more... damn fucking alarm," I murmured, opening my eyes and grabbing my phone from the floor where I had carelessly tossed it the night before after reading my favorite novel.  8:27 a.m.

"Shit! I'm late!" I jumped out of bed, nearly falling over. I ran into the bathroom and took a quick shower. Afterward, I grabbed whatever clothes I could lay my hands on, threw them on, and dashed out like a madwoman. I was scheduled to perform a very important surgery in less than an hour, and I had overslept again.  

 "Oh God, this is the third time I've been late this week," I muttered. I had stayed up all night reading Alpha Psycho, my favorite novel. I'd become so obsessed with it that it had become part of my bedtime routine. I had read it over and over again. I knew every detail about the crazy Alpha he had somehow become my favorite character.

 I hurried toward the old Mazda I inherited from my grandmother-as her favorite granddaughter. I tried starting the car, but it wouldn't start. It was like the universe was against me today. I tried again, but it wouldn't budge.  

"Please, please, not today," I whispered, turning the key again. Nothing. The car was completely dead. It was as if it had conspired with my alarm clock to ruin me. Frustrated, I rushed to the roadside and flagged down a taxi. 

"City Clinic," I told the driver breathlessly.  "That'll be 80 bucks," he said.  

"What? Eighty dollars for a thirty-minute drive? I will pay fifty."

 "No, ma'am. It's eighty," he insisted.

 "Fine. But drive as fast as you can. I need to be at the hospital as soon as possible."

 "Sure, ma'am," he replied, pulling onto the busy road. Almost immediately, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen. Ethan. The Chief Medical Director. A very scary man in his late fifties.  Oh God. I'm in trouble now. I quickly pressed the answer button.

 "Where the hell are you, Christy?" he yelled.  "I'm almost at the hospital, Mr. Ethan. My car wouldn't start this morning. I'm in a taxi now I will be there in the next five minutes," I lied smoothly, knowing full well I still had about thirty minutes to go.  

"If you're not here in five minutes, you'll be suspended!" he barked before ending the call.

"Oh shit. I'm definitely in trouble now," I muttered, then turned to the driver. "Sir, can you go faster?"

 "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm already driving as fast as I can," he replied calmly.

 "But not fast enough to get me to the hospital in five minutes and save my job," I groaned.  Then, out of