The thing you’ll never understand is how much the need to possess drives a person. To have it. All of it. Over and over again. For people like me it can be anything. Food. Material things. People. Or in my case, her.


She came into my life when I needed someone the most. I’d just lost my mother to cancer. My father, I never knew. My brother left when he was old enough to drop out of school and disappeared from my life soon after. My sister had a family of her own to deal with. Young, impressionable kids who didn’t need the likes of an obsessive uncle such as myself around for more than a holiday here or there at a time.

The truth is, I scare my sister. I have since we were little. I followed a little too close. Asked a few too many questions. Knew a little more than I should about the people she chose to call friends. Unnerving I guess, but when you love like I do, nothing is off-limits. Nothing is more important than protecting what’s mine.


Elizabeth. I knew the moment I saw her she was mine to watch over. To protect. To love. So beautiful. So fragile. So trusting. So sweet. So vulnerable.

Of course, vulnerability tends to be a given when a patient is rushed in, strapped to a gurney, clothes in disarray, blood everywhere and wires and tubes leading off to one machine or another. Then they feared she wouldn’t survive the night. At the time I didn’t know if she’d survive the surgery.

The attack had been brutal. A former friend, for reasons still unknown had turned on her, lodging two broken kitchen knives in her body before wailing on her with what was left of the handles and whatever else she could reach.

My job took hours. There were transfusions, stitches, staples. One of her lungs was punctured. Ribs broken. Numerous fractures. Internal bleeding we couldn’t immediately trace. Patience and skill were her saving grace. My patience and my skill. Her life in MY highly trained hands.

She pulled through. I looked in on her as often as my hectic schedule would allow. Unfortunately, her recovery was quick. Too quick. And soon she was released. Forced to face the cruelty of the world alone.

I couldn’t let that happen.

A quick check of the hospital’s records lead me right to her door. All I had to do was think of a way in. As one of the doctors responsible for her during her brief stay, I couldn’t just strike up a casual relationship. I’d have to find a way in. Learn her routine. Map out her habits. Acquaint myself with her friends and family. Not personally of course, but there were ways to do that thanks to social media, background checks and public records.

These were times having a computer whiz for a roommate on college came in handy. There were back doors everywhere. People don’t realize how easy it is for someone as determined as I to get into their digital lives. Before long I’d found out everything I needed to know about her brother, parents and fiancé. I’d also found her attacker.

Though she was no longer free to wreak havoc on Elizabeth’s life again, she was still breathing and in danger of being released to a state mental hospital. That was something I just couldn’t have. That was something that would be dealt with as swiftly as humanly possible. Preferably by my hand.

As my research moved forward, I reached out to one of the guards in the facility my demented target was housed in. Thanks my trusty prescription pad and desperate drug abusers, I had a way in to just about any facility I wanted to get into.

This particular fellow had been in a nasty car accident a few years back and required heavy doses of painkillers due to a lingering spinal injury. His personal physician had limited his prescription once he became suspicious. I however was open to negotiations. Access to the inmate in exchange for a two-month supply of his drug of choice.

Not particularly professional of me, I know. Like I said before, I’m driven by that need. And what I needed then, what I craved more than anything else was hurting the monster that hurt her. Such a person didn’t deserve to live in comfort while Elizabeth was left with scars, both mental and physical she had to face everyday for the rest of her life.

It took a week to plan the outage on the facility and another three days to get my bag ready. I’d have a window of only four hours and I wanted every glorious moment to count. Elizabeth would have justice. I would have my revenge.


How sweet it was. Me and my scalpel. Her and her fear. The few hours I had alone with her were productive to say the least. A nick here. A jab there. A few minor lacerations. None so deep as to end her life yet just enough to keep her weak, cause permanent damage and keep her in a mental facility for the rest of her life. Knowing your way around the human body has its advantages.

Then there were the drugs. Drugs I could keep her on a steady diet of thanks to the help of the above mentioned addict. His supply would never run out as long as he gave my unfortunate patient my potent little cocktail.

One craving satisfied I moved on to the next; winning over Elizabeth.

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