Mine

by Aubrey Dark

  “Where’s the surgeon?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Dr. Damore said. He reached out and touched my cheek, tilting my chin upward.

  Then he kissed me, and I fell against his chest as he pulled me into the embrace. His lips were soft, and the stubble on his chin grazed mine. His arms circled around me, and I felt as though I was being lifted up. Like I was floating. Heat thrummed through my body and I felt myself clench with desire, despite myself. Oh, Lord, he knew how to kiss. His lips pulled and pushed in equal measure, and my body responded like a candle flame responding to wind, instantly letting him take me where he wanted to go.

  His mouth moved down my chin, his lips against my neck now. Wherever he kissed me, my skin burned with delight. I felt dizzy; the world outside was spinning.

  “Dr. Damore,” I murmured, putting my hand on his chest. His arms were locked around me, his muscles taut. I pushed away slightly, but he didn’t react at all. “Please.”

  “So beautiful,” he said, his mouth still against my neck.

  “Hey,” I said, struggling now to push away. His arms, though, were like a vise around me. I couldn’t get out. “Hey, don’t… come on. I can’t… we can’t do this.”

  “Such a shame,” he murmured. His body pressed against mine, and I could feel his hardness against me. Then he twisted my arm behind my back in one motion. I gasped as his other hand came up, holding a syringe. My heart pounded. What was going on? What was he doing? I squirmed in his arms but he had me pinned tightly against him. I couldn’t even move.

  “Hey!” I cried. “Wait! Stop!”

  “I’m sorry, dear Mrs. Steadhill,” he said, and then I felt a pinch on the side of my neck. Then, nothing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rien

  Mrs. Steadhill. Not the most faithful of wives. I wouldn’t kill a woman for that, not alone. But it made me feel a bit better about injecting her with a sedative.

  Unlike her husband, she was out instantly. The sedative I gave her was fast-acting and fast to wear off. She would be awake again in a minute, probably about the same time as her husband. Just in time to watch him die. For now, though, she was my sleeping beauty.

  She slumped into my arms, her head lolling as the sedative took over. I laid her on the floor and pulled the second operating table alongside her husband’s before picking her back up in my arms.

  Her curves felt so tender under my hands as I carried her over to the operating table. I placed her gently on the table and left her there, then moved over to her husband and pulled his straps tight. One over his head. Two straps for each leg and arm. Another across the pelvis that would keep him from twisting or bucking when I operated. Then I strapped her down, being a bit more gentle. I caressed her hip as I pulled the strap across it, making sure to adjust the sheet so she would be comfortable when she woke up. I straightened out her hair on the pillow before adjusting the strap across her brow line. Then I changed my mind. She would need to move her head so that she could see her husband while I worked. I would strap her head down later, and gag her then too. I checked her eyes for dilation. One unfocused pupil stared up at me.

  Strange. I bent down to see what it was, and realized that she was wearing contacts. Carefully, I slid the contact lens to the side of her eye. So. She had green eyes, not blue. If the eyes were windows to the soul, hers were fake. All fake. I slid the contact lens back in.

  Normally that would disgust me, but I felt none of my usual disdain as I looked down at her. I didn’t know what it was about her that drew me to her. Perhaps it was that she had noticed my sculpture. Was I that vain?

  Yes, maybe I was.

  She stirred a little, a soft gasp escaping her lips. I smiled. She would be awake soon enough. It was time to wake up hubby and get started with the surgery. Turning back to him, I inserted the adrenaline injection into the IV. Then I tied the gag around his mouth. I didn’t like to gag unconscious patients—they tended to choke to death—but he was on his way out of sleep. Soon his breathing grew faster and his eyes opened.

  “Hello,” I said, looking down at my victim. “Change of plans, Mr. Steadhill. I’ll be your surgeon today.”

  Sara

  “MMMMM!”

  Everything was warm and fuzzy. The way it felt after I’d had two too many glasses of wine with dinner. The lights overhead were bright, though, and I tried to raise my hand to cover my eyes. It wouldn’t move; there was something holding it down.

  “MMMMHHHMMM!”

  That noise. What was that noise?

  I blinked and saw fuzzy white dots floating in my vision. Everything was white. Beautiful. I thought I might have died and gone to heaven.

  “MMMMM!”

  That noise again. I blinked hard. It was coming from my left. My muscles felt heavy, weighted down. I let my head fall to the side. Staring back at me was something out of Nightmare on Elm Street, a monster with a face of blood. It made the noise again and I realized that it was Gary.

  I screamed.

  The whole side of Gary’s face had been peeled back, revealing all of the muscles and tendons of his cheeks. The only thing that had been left alone, it seemed, was his eye, and that same eye now turned to lock on mine, fixing me with a dead gaze that had no eyelid.

  I screamed again and tried to shove myself away, but nothing happened. My arms and legs wouldn’t move. I twisted my body to try to get away, but I realized that there was something tying me down to the bed I was lying on.

  Then I saw him.

  It was the anesthesiologist. He had taken off his surgical cap, and his dark hair fell in front of his eyes as he bent over the top of the table I was tied to.

  “Help me!” I cried. “Dr. Damore, help!”

  My mind was slow, muddled, and the walls of the room spun around me like a carousel. What had happened? He had kissed me, and then—

  Oh, shit.

  My eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. He had stuck me with a needle. It was him.

  “I’ll help you,” he said. “You and your husband both.”

  My husband? Oh, right. I was supposed to be Susan. I blinked again.

  “But please, call me Rien,” he continued. “Now that we’re getting to know each other better.”

  “Rien?” I echoed dumbly. Was I awake, or still dreaming? A thought spiraled through my mind as I looked wildly around the spinning room. Maybe this was still part of the role. Maybe I was on a prank show right now.

  “This isn’t real, is it?” I asked.

  “Real? Nothing is real. Isn’t that what you were telling me before?”

  “No, but really. I mean…” I trailed off. If this was a show, then I didn’t want to break character. I would lose the cash. On the other hand, he had stuck me with a needle! It couldn’t be a show. Could it? God, what was happening to me? I swallowed and tried to clear my focus.

  Next to me, Gary squealed. I darted a glance his way. Blood pooled onto the sheet, and his face was peeled off of his head. Okay. Right. Not a show. Definitely not a show. I looked back at the doctor. Rien. Even though the walls were still blurry, his eyes were sharply focused.

  On me.

  “Holy shit. This is real.”

  “Real? Maybe. What does real mean? You’re both living a lie already. Fake people, fake lives. And now you want to go start fresh somewhere else.” Rien, if that was really his name, twirled a scalpel in his fingers. I stared at the silver blade flashing in the light. It was hypnotizing.

  “This is a mistake,” I stammered. My tongue felt thick in my mouth as I talked. I couldn’t get my head clear, and the room hadn’t decided to stay still yet.

  “I agree, you’ve made quite a few mistakes if you ended up here,” he said. Next to me, Gary was still making that horrible wet noise behind his gag.

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m not Mrs. Steadhill. You’ve got the wrong person.”

  “Really? Is that so?”

  “I’m serious!” I said, my voice rising in pani
c. The room was getting more steady now—the adrenaline of my panic seemed to be slapping my senses back into focus. It was still hard to breathe. “I’m not married to him!”

  “Funny, because when we were out in the waiting room you told me you were married to him. Not that your marriage seems that stable—”

  “I was lying! I was acting! I’m an act—mmmmmmm!”

  Without warning, he shoved a ball of cotton gauze into my mouth.

  My tongue went suddenly dry, all the moisture soaked up by the cotton, and I gagged. Whatever he had stuck me with was still in my system, and I felt my throat muscles spasming as I tried to push the cotton out of my mouth with my tongue. Rien slapped medical tape across my mouth, pressing the ends down on my cheeks, to hold it in. Tears burned my eyes.

  “Maybe your husband can help you figure out this situation, Susan,” he said.

  I shook my head. I’m not Susan!

  “Would you like to say something to your loving wife, Mr. Steadhill? Before I get started on her?”

  Panic burned at my nerves. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. He was going to cut my face off, too. He was a crazy killer pretending to be a plastic surgeon, and Gary had walked us both right into his house. A low whimper rose from my throat involuntarily. What was I doing here? What was happening?

  Rien leaned over and ripped off Gary’s taped gag. I was pretty sure part of Gary’s lips went with it, because he screamed at the top of his lungs. Then Rien waved the scalpel over his face, and he stopped screaming. I could see the blood vessels in his face throbbing as he held back the scream. That terrified me more than anything else.

  “You remember how we started,” Rien said. Gary nodded. “Alright. Now, then.”

  “It’s a mistake,” Gary said. His voice was ragged and wet, and when he talked I could see his cheek muscles contracting along his jawline. “I’m part of the witness protection program. With the FBI.”

  What? Behind the gag, I shrieked. What the hell was he talking about? FBI? He had lied to me, too! This was insane. Absolutely insane.

  “We had a police escort here,” Gary continued. The corner of his mouth, or what was left of it, leaked blood. He sounded calm, calmer than I would have been if someone had cut up half of my face and peeled it off like a fruit rollup. “Then I was going to go straight to the airport and fly to Brazil under a new alias.”

  His breathing was hard, labored, the words forced. His bare eye rolled toward me, then back to Rien. A shudder ran down my spine.

  “Susan was going to come join me a week later, after her surgery.”

  I shook my head wildly. No! I’m not Susan!

  “So you see, this must all be a misunderstanding,” Gary said.

  “Misunderstanding. Hmm,” the doctor said. He glanced over at me, then back to Gary. Lifting the scalpel, he placed the point directly on Gary’s chest.

  “Please! It’s true! The police are coming back for us in a few hours!”

  The muscle above his eyeball jumped, and I realized that he was trying to blink with an eyelid that wasn’t attached to him anymore. Bile rose in my throat, and I held back my retching. If I threw up, I’d choke to death on it.

  “Are they? Tell me, Mr. Steadhill, what crimes did you get away with when you made your deal with the FBI?”

  The doctor—Rien—stood very still, his hand poised with the scalpel on Gary’s chest.

  “I—I’m not a criminal,” Gary stammered.

  The scalpel pressed down and I could see blood leaking from both sides. Gary screamed aloud.

  “Stop! Stop! Please stop!”

  “Only if you tell me the truth. Once again, then. What crimes were you convicted of before you squealed on someone else?”

  “Aghhh! Stop! Alright! I’ll tell you! Cor—corporate espionage. We sent people in to other companies. Sabotaged factories.”

  I flailed my head from side to side. Why did he keep saying we? I didn’t do any of this shit!

  “What else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What else?” The scalpel slid down his chest, and I could hear the slicing noise as the skin tore under the blade.

  “AHHHHHH! Mmm—manslaughter. Criminal negligence.” His teeth were chattering, and I could see his jawbone through the blood.

  I clenched my eyes shut. Dear God, who was this man?

  “How many deaths were you responsible for, the both of you?”

  I opened my eyes then and stared at Rien, locking eyes with him. I shook my head slowly from one side to the other. No. I didn’t kill anyone. He stared back at me with a curious expression on his face, then tilted his head towards Gary.

  “Mr. Steadhill?”

  “Two hundred sixty. But it wasn’t our fault. The sabotage went wrong! It was a mistake—”

  “Yes,” Rien said. “A mistake. There seem to be lots of mistakes around here.”

  He stepped back and walked around to the foot of the operating table.

  “Let me tell you one other mistake you made, Mr. Steadhill. You didn’t tell anyone in your life that you were going into the witness protection program, did you? No, of course you didn’t. That’s part of the witness protection program.”

  Gary’s teeth chattered more. Pus leaked from below his reddened eye.

  “And the United States of America, in their generosity, decided to give you a new life in another country. They told you to come to me for a new face, and then you would fly to Brazil for a new life. Is that right? They told you everything would be taken care of, didn’t they?”

  A chill swept over my body as I realized what Rien was saying. He glanced over my way as though he could read my thoughts.

  “Unfortunately for you and your wife, Mr. Steadhill, the U.S. government doesn’t really care that much for corporate saboteurs, especially those who get innocent citizens killed.”

  “We gave them information,” Gary said. “They said—”

  “They said whatever they needed to say to get you here. Sorry to tell you that your car won’t be coming back for you this evening. The United States has washed its hands of you, Mr. Steadhill. They have sent you on a snipe hunt. There are no plane tickets to Brazil. There is no new identity for you or your wife.”

  “But—but—”

  “There’s only me. Understand that? And now… you’re mine.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rien

  It was time to start carving up this couple. And with nobody else on my schedule, I could take my time and enjoy it.

  Mrs. Steadhill was screaming behind her gag, her body twisting against the straps. I would definitely have to tie her neck down or risk being sloppy. But first I’d deal with her husband.

  I picked up the cotton to stuff it in Mr. Steadhill’s mouth again.

  “Wait! She isn’t my wife,” he said, rasping air.

  I paused. The nagging feeling that I had gotten when the couple walked in was back. I had assumed that she had been lying, but a worry itched at my mind.

  “She’s an actress,” he continued. “She—”

  I stuffed the gag in his mouth. He choked as I taped it back up, shrieking as the tape touched his musculature on the exposed part of his face.

  “An actress?”

  I looked over at the woman. She nodded frantically, her eyes wide.

  “I can tell you want to talk,” I said. “But I’ve found that when I let people talk to me, they lie. Are you going to lie?”

  She shook her head. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. A twist of unease made its way into my stomach as I looked at her. If she really was innocent, I couldn’t kill her. But I couldn’t let her go. She was a witness.

  If she was innocent, that is.

  “Then we’ll talk,” I said, deciding quickly. “In another room. I don’t trust the two of you together.”

  I went over to the medical cabinet and pulled out another hypodermic, then brought it over to the woman. She looked at the needle with terror in her eyes and looked away as I inject
ed her.

  “You are scared of needles, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, her eyes clenched shut.

  “Oh, that is such a shame. It would have been so much fun to torture you.”

  I undid the strap around one of her arms. She opened her eyes and stared down at what I was doing. I raised her arm and let it drop. It fell limply to the table. Excellent. She frowned, looking down at her arm as though willing it to move.

  “Paralyzed. Yes,” I said, undoing the rest of the straps. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  I slid my arms underneath her and picked her up. Her head lolled against my chest, the cotton gag still stuffed in her mouth. She whimpered.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Steadhill,” I said. “You’ve been granted a short reprieve. I’ll be back later.”

  The man moaned, but I was already carrying my new toy across the room. With my elbow, I pressed the hidden button on the side of the medical cabinet. The back wall opened up and I carried her through the secret doorway.

  Sara

  I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I thought I must be dreaming. It’s only in dreams you can’t move. Those nightmares where you try to run, but your muscles don’t work, and you’re frozen in place. Trying to get away from the boogie monster.

  Now the monster had me in his arms.

  The doctor picked me up easily, as though I was a small child he was carrying in his arms. He paused at the back of the operating room, shifting my weight in his arms. Then the back wall of the operating room opened and we stepped into another room. A dark room. The door closed behind us and I could barely see the sliver of light coming from the other room.

  My eyes were still adjusting as he put me down on something soft. A couch. I felt his hands peel off the tape on my gag. Then the wet cotton was gone and I could breathe. I gasped air, sucking in deep breaths.

  “Easy, now,” he said. “You’ll hyperventilate if you breathe too fast.” His voice was gentle. A gentle killer, I thought. I must be going crazy.

  He walked over and turned on the light, and then I could see where I was.