I suppose I could lie and say that I only needed to do it once. Only needed that one fix. But don’t all addicts say that? One fix and they’re good…until they’re not. Anita, still laboring on as my therapist, keeps asking me how I feel. I think back to the others, their little faced pressed against cage bars as they sobbed. She accuses me of mimicking. She’s right of course, but I do feel unease echoing in my chest cavity that she saw through me so quickly.

As I sit and squirrel away at my mathematical murder I try not to think of all the others who are now privy to my dark fantasies. It used to just be The Doctor and Me. And Anita. But she didn’t count. Now the tendrils of my sickness spread out across my family and into the police force. They’re all trying to get rid of it, in their own ways.

D.I. Laghari wants to see me felled at the roots, forever vanquished. Whipplewitt wants what all men want. And my family? They want some way to control the bloody branches of my behavior, without killing the entire plant.

I suppose I shouldn’t tell them about the one I killed last night, but, in my defense…he did deserve it.

 

[This is based of a character in the story ‘Learning Murder’ in Curses Come Home, now available on Amazon! Grab yours here!