Ah, I'm glad most of you seem to enjoy the dark theme! I think it's necessary to do these types of stories every now and then, because there are certain areas of the mind, yes, even yours, that will scare you. It's better to meet them head on than to cower in fear. With that said, let's get on to the love for those who reviewed! Ember Hinote, ding, ding, dinnnnng! Yes, Jack the Ripper for the win! I love him, he's just so amazingly twisted. I thought Arthur could fit the profile, with a few tweaks of course. So glad you're into it! incidentalmusic, heh, I know you are! Fynniona, lust, eh? Well, we all know the feeling! Glad you're with me again! Your fanart is just so lovely! luckycat222, creepy is a great theme! It grabs attention! Shite Anonym, I think we all enjoy the dark theme, huh? Ah, it's okay to like it. If you think you're twisted for reading such a thing, just remember, I'm the one writing it, haha. Now, enough rambles! Let's get on with the story!
Not Even Jail
(Interpol)
[I'll lay down my glasses. I'll lay down in houses, if things come alive. I'll subtract pain by ounces. Yeah, I will start painting houses, if things come alive. I promise to commit no acts of violence, neither physical, or otherwise, if things come alive. I'll say it now. I'll say it now. Say it now, oh, I'll say it now. 'Cause I want it now.]
The doctor sighed loudly as he poured over a patient's file in the dim lit room. He knew he should have finished his paperwork earlier, but his mind was…wandering.
That first time, the time he never tried to think about… He always thought of it. Of course, that had been years ago. It was a moment's weakness, or so he told himself.
His father had once told him murderous intent was common in the hearts of men, but he had always chalked it up to his dad's lack of concern for other's wellbeing- Something Arthur had seemed to inherit.
His mother was… Such a one of a kind woman. She often reminded Arthur how he was never supposed to have existed. How he was an accident, and most importantly, how he didn't matter.
Good grades, medical school, and now a respected doctor, and his parents were both dead. Fate was indeed a cruel mistress.
He had no one to say "I told you so" to. He had no one left to be proud of him, besides himself. What was he to do?
Success is one thing, but happiness is another. Both are hard to obtain, but the latter can be the most impossible, if one is not in the right frame of mind.
Arthur knew he had a few screws loose. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out.
Ah, but we are getting ahead of ourselves. Back to the paperwork.
Arthur's mint green eyes roamed over it listlessly. He tried to focus on the words he was scribbling.
Patient is experiencing severe abdominal pain…
That first time…he had plunged the scalpel into the stomach carefully, cutting just enough to peer inside…
Patient has trouble standing due to…
Weight on top of her. Holding her down, killing her while she was unconscious. The screams would have been better, but… He didn't want to get caught. Instead, he opted to feel inside of her entrails, feeling her life heave her slowly. That had been the best way.
Severe nausea…
He had never once felt sick because of it. No, quite the contrary. He would think about it, and become more and more…
Doctor recommends?
A knock at the door interrupted him.
"Yes?" he called toward the wooden frame. It was rather late, and he had a feeling he knew who would be at the other side of the door.
"Doctor! Why in God's good name are you still here so late?" Nurse Michelle asked him. Her brown hair was pulled into her usual two pigtails, and her dark eyes were wide.
"You know I had extra work to do, Chelles," he replied casually, not bothering to grant her a second glance.
The woman often voiced her concerns over his concentration for work. She told him he needed to go home and sleep more. If she knew what he dreamed of, she would never suggest such a thing.
"You always seem to have extra work to do," she sighed. "Don't be here all night, Doctor. Your eyes will be tired tomorrow. And it's not right to be on these streets so late, you know."
"And why is that?" he asked, picking up his neglected cup of tea. It was rather cold, but Arthur was never the type to waste.
"There are strange folk out this time of night. You'll catch your death!" she warned.
He only laughed at her, setting his cup down as his other hand waved her away.
"Don't be ridiculous, Chelles. You're the one most likely in danger here. Women seem to be the most often attacked."
She rolled her eyes at him as she bade him goodnight. He heard the door click as she took her leave.
Yes, he had considered killing her. You would have too if you were forced to hear her incessant ramblings about safety and health. Yes, she was a nurse, but come on. Even the bloody Lord took a goddamn day off.
He decided against such a thing. She worked for him, and it would easily be traced back to him. Not to mention, as annoying as she could be, she was a good person. Doctor Arthur Kirkland was not a heartless man. He was just a little tweaked, but who wasn't?
Wearily, he glanced down at the papers once more. He could barely make heads or tails of his own writing at this point, and was considering just going home to sleep off the sudden craving.
But…what good would that do? That's what he had done every night for years now. Ignore the urge, go home, think about it while jerking off, and then go to bed.
What good did that do him?
Maybe…he could do it one more time? Just one more, of course. It could only help him, right?
Every addict needed one last fix. One last high…
The pages were glaring up at him in the almost dead light from the oil lamp.
Doctor recommends?
Immediate release, stat. Conscience be damned.
[I pretend like no one else, to try to control myself. I'm subtle like a lion's cage, such a cautious display. Remember take hold of your time here, give some meanings to the means to your end… Not even jail.]
Sachi: Yes, Seychelles is Michelle. I can still call her 'Chelles' that way! Review for love!