Okay! Here is Part 6 of my story, The Fragile. Nope, don't own Profiler but I wish I did, cause it would be totally awesome. NBC/ Court TV and Sander/ Moses productions own em. L Oh...and I don't own the Big Purple dinosaur either. Please tell me what ya think, flames or encouragement, I don't care. J
The Fragile Pt. 6
With my legs up on the desk, I watch Samantha as she explores our new temporary home. I see the disgust and the shock on her face as she sees the bedroom, and I chuckle.
"Don't worry, Samantha, you'll get used to it, in due time," I whisper softly, reaching into my shirt pocket for a cigarette. Lighting it up, I slowly take a drag off of it and sigh.
The door to my room opens and I glare coldly at the intruder. One of the men who ambushed Agent Grant's car is standing in the doorway.
"What do you want?"
"Uh…Me and Ted are gonna dump the cop car now. Just thought you'd want to know." I snort derisively. Like I care if the damn fools dump the car or not. They're dead anyway.
"Fine. Go," I reply icily, "and make sure no one sees you." Shawn nods and leaves, closing the door behind him, and within a few minutes I can see car headlights and can hear the muted roar of two engines, which quickly fade as they leave me in peace.
I turn my attention back to the monitors, and I notice my lovely Samantha has fallen asleep at the table. With a faint smile, I get up and walk into the kitchen, needing something to eat, all the while thinking of what those incompetents at the Task Force must be going through…what Malone must be going through.
"Poor Malone," I say with an evil chuckle, "You've fucked up again, haven't you?" I'll have to kill him, I decide suddenly. That fool is the only thing standing between Samantha and I, and as long as he's alive, he's a problem…a major one.
How should I do it? I ponder the possibilities as I pour myself a glass of Brut Extra Dry Champagne. Torture? Drowning? Strangulation? Gunshot wounds? The possibilities are almost endless, I realize with a smirk. After much thought on the subject, I decide torture. I need to see him suffer…to see him beg for me to stop the pain.
Unconsciously I crush the last few remaining cigarettes I have in my fist, and I curse, realizing I'll have to keep one of my two brain donors alive long enough to get me some more. With a snarl, I turn on the TV.
"- And the big news this morning is of the escaped serial-killer and death row convict more commonly known as the 'Jack of all Trades'. Federal, State and local law enforcement agents are on the lookout for a man fitting this description."
A picture of myself comes up as I change the channel.
"I love you…you love me…" A familiar purple dinosaur sang happily.
"God no," I whisper, shuddering as I hurriedly change the channel. Finding nothing on, I yawn and turn the TV off. Later on, I'd have to prepare for Agent Malone's arrival…
Walking past the door to Samantha's rooms, I pause and blow a kiss before heading to my own bedroom farther down the hallway.
My bedroom, unlike Samantha's, is decorated in black. The only things of any color are the bouquets of roses and the pictures of Samantha in various states of emotion.
Humming a tune to myself, I strip down to my boxers and slide underneath the black satin sheets. With thoughts of torturing Bailey and celebrating it with Samantha, I fall asleep with a smile on my face…