Unworthy

by Cassia Brightmore

  Cian’s shouts to push epi could be heard through the walls. Several minutes later, all motion in the room came to a halt and one of the nurses subtly shut off the beeping monitor.

  “Time of death 19:53.” Cian barked out. His footsteps resounded his fury with every step he took towards the doors. When he found Cameron frozen to the spot, his icy gaze sliced right through him; almost causing physical pain. He didn’t spare him a word, his snub speaking volumes. To him, Cameron was now irrelevant, invisible, replaceable. He was finished in Cardio and they both knew it. Regardless if it was his fault or not, Cian would blame this death on him, for the simple fact that he’d been the last person to touch Henry. Reynolds entered the room and his eyes held a touch of sympathy.

  “I’m afraid he won’t let this one go, bud. Henry meant something to him. You’re fucked,” he told him.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Cameron replied as they both watched Cian move down the hall, rage present in every step.

  Cian didn’t stop moving until he was out of the hospital’s walls and had reached his car. Opening the sleek, silver Jaguar’s trunk, he removed a thick black leather folder; slamming the trunk shut. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he undid the zipper of the portfolio and thumbed through its contents. Stopping at a glossy color photo of an attractive middle-aged woman, he read over the typed context beneath her image.

  Sally Pope, age 47

  Address: 147 Hudson Street, Staten Island

  Career: Foster Mother

  Information: Arrested and tried on charges of child molestation, trafficking, one count of

  suspicious death. All charges dropped before trial due to lack of sufficient evidence.

  Turning a few more pages revealed photos of several children and a few young teenage girls. Newspaper clippings were attached, detailing the arrest, investigation and subsequent dropping of all charges, which made Sally a free woman. An injustice Cian couldn’t stand for. He glanced back at one of the photos of a small girl, barely more than four years old, beaten so badly both of her eyes were swollen shut. She was a tiny thing and was still covered head to toe in bruises. A few baby teeth had been knocked out, causing swelling around her small mouth. The medical report revealed that she’d indeed been sexually abused in addition to the severe beating. Disgust was a bitter taste in his mouth at the thought that this cunt was walking free while this small child would have a long road of recovery from such a trauma, if she ever recovered fully from it at all.

  His mind made up, he tossed the folder onto the passenger seat and keyed Sally’s home address into his GPS. It was time to hunt. Letting the anger flow through him, he turned up the classical music on his stereo to an ear-shattering decibel and let the car steer him in the direction of his prey. It was nights like this that he shed the exterior that anyone in his everyday life saw. Gone was the professional man with the better-than-God attitude and in his place was the monster that lived beneath the surface. The one that craved a hunt, the thrill, the feeling of warm, sticky blood dripping from his fingertips. The two sides of who he was warred with each other, one with the power to heal, the other with the power to end lives in torturous ways. Tonight, it was time to let the devil out to play. Sally may have escaped a nightmarish life sentence, but she was about the experience a hell unlike any she’d ever known. His hell.

  His GPS led him to a row of condos and he pulled to a stop across the street from number 147. The information in his folder told him that Sally lived alone for the moment, but would be re-instated to her job as a foster mother within the next couple weeks. He had to act fast if he wanted to prevent her from getting near another child. Considering his next move, he grabbed his phone from the console when it dinged indicating an incoming message.

  O’Reilly, what the fuck? You take off in the middle of shift? It was Reynolds. The man was worse than a stage-five clinger of a woman at times.

  Calm the fuck down. I’ll be back in 30. I’ll be right behind a delivery so make sure things are set.

  Got it.

  Satisfied that things were being handled back at the hospital, Cian put the phone back in his console tray and watched as one of the doors opened from the row of houses across the street. A woman emerged and with a quick glance back at his portfolio, he confirmed that it was the target; Sally.

  “Fucking A,” he muttered. She climbed into a black mini-van parked a few doors down and pulled out into the traffic. Cian waited a few beats before following, ensuring to keep several cars between them. A few blocks away, she veered off into a supermarket parking lot and after finding a free space; headed inside.

  Inspiration struck and finding a notepad on his backseat, he scribbled a quick note. Slipping from the car, he approached her van and slipped the note under her windshield wipers, keeping to the shadows so that any security cameras wouldn’t pick up his form.

  Some twenty minutes later when Sally came back out, she placed her groceries in the trunk and then rounded the vehicle and paused before opening the driver’s side door. Grabbing the note from the windshield, she opened it and even from across the parking lot, Cian could feel her terror at reading the words. The paper slipped from her fingers and she started to run as Cian simultaneously pulled from his spot, angling his car in the perfect position. All it took was a few steps and she flew up over the hood of his car, landing with a solid thud on the pavement. Leaping from the car, Cian screamed for help while fighting to suppress his cold grin of glee.

  Reaching her side, he felt for a pulse, overjoyed when he felt it strong and steady. Sally stared up at him, her eyes pleading for help. Blood trickled from her mouth and her right leg was bent at an odd angle underneath her.

  Glancing over his shoulder he saw an employee from the supermarket rushing towards them. “Call 911!” he shouted. The young woman nodded, her red ponytail flying behind her as she dashed back inside the store to do as he instructed.

  “I’m a doctor,” he told Sally as he turned his attention back to her. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure you get exactly where you need to be.” Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he mentally prepared for what was to come. He called forward the image of the abused children, the missing teenage girls and used those reminders to push himself forward with what he was about to do. This woman was a disgrace, a disgusting excuse for a human and needed to be punished—his way, since the judicial system had once again failed to do its job.

  Hearing the sirens in the distance, he reacted swiftly and pulled a needle from his pocket. Removing the cap, he expertly slid the pre-filled dose of the perfect amount of potassium chloride into her skin and re-pocketed the needle before the young cashier joined them.

  Sally’s mouth had formed an ‘O’ of surprise as she struggled to find the breath to shed light on what Cian had just done. “H—h—he,” she gurgled, trying and failing to lift and arm to point accusingly at him.

  “Yes, ma’am, I know. It was me that hit you, but you came out of nowhere, tearing across the parking lot. I’m very sorry, but there was no way I could have stopped.” Cian interjected smoothly over top of Sally’s attempts to expose him.

  “I saw, Mister. I saw from the window. She ran in front of the car,” the young girl’s green eyes were wide with excited fear.

  “Yes, she did. Give me that apron you’re wearing,” he ordered and once she’d obeyed, he tore a strip off it and used to bind a bleeding gash at Sally’s elbow. The remaining parts of fabric he rolled into a ball and tucked under her head in a showcased attempt to make her more comfortable.

  As if on cue, the ambulance pulled into the parking lot and the paramedics rushed to their side. Cian stepped back to give them room and announced that he’d check her car for her personal belongings. Heading towards the mini-van, he scooped down discreetly and swiped the forgotten note from the ground and quickly put it in his pocket. He snatched Sally’s purse from where she’d dropped it and returned just as the paramedics were finishing up their initial assessment. Sally’s breath
ing had sped up and the portable monitor’s alarm started going off just as Cian dropped to his knees beside her.

  “She’s going into cardiac arrest. Get the ECG machine and get ready to push morphine,” he ordered, glaring when neither one of the male paramedics moved. “Are you fucking deaf? Let’s get moving!”

  “Who are you?” the first male asked. This one was cocky as all fuck, a big beefy African American with tattoos climbing down his neck and disappearing under his uniform shirt.

  “I’m Dr. O’Reilly. We’re taking her to Lincoln Hospital, let’s get ready to move.” Again, neither moved a muscle and Cian’s temper started to rise as his blood boiled. If they fucked this up for him...

  “Cian O’Reilly?” the second male paramedic asked. He was a bulky guy as well, although nowhere near the size of his partner. Caucasian with sandy-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, he seemed to be the more sensible of the two. “As in the surgeon? That Dr. O’Reilly?”

  Yes, definitely the smarter of the two. “Yes. So if you’ve heard of me, you know that I’m being dead serious when I say we need to go now, or she dies right here.”

  “We need to be careful that we don’t do any more damage by moving her,” the idiot paramedic began, before Cian cut him off.

  “None of that is going to matter if her heart gives out, you fucking dumb fuck. Just get the fuck out of my way, I’ll load her on the stretcher myself.” The smart one stood and together he and Cian got Sally onto the stretcher and into the ambulance while the other man finally saw sense and went around to hop into the driver’s seat.

  He leaned his head into the cab of the ambulance and made eye contact with the paramedic sitting with Sally. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Nick. Nick Parker.”

  “Alright, Nick. Keep her alive until we get to the hospital. I’ll follow behind you in my car.” Closing the doors and pounding on them twice to let signal they were good to go, Cian stepped back and noticed a small crowd had gathered around to watch. He immediately turned on the charm, addressing them as he moved to his car.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, everything is fine here. I’m a doctor, a damn good doctor, and I’m on my way right now to make sure that poor woman gets exactly what she needs.” He flashed a dazzling smile that was sure to weaken the knees of the females. There was a resounding sigh of relief and a few cheers and people calling out “thank you!” as he climbed in the car and sped out of the parking lot.

  Cian ran through the ER doors behind the stretcher, barking orders as he went. “Take her straight to OR-B.” Reynolds, you better be fucking ready for me. Two nurses and a resident rushed forward to take over from the paramedics, getting report as they ran down the hall to the elevators, Cian hot on their heels. He ducked into the attendings’ locker room and quickly discarded the syringe from his pocket in the Sharps container and moving to the shredder, pulled the note from his pocket and fed it through the teeth; watching as the warning he’d left for Sally disappeared into little bits of paper. I know who you are. I’m watching you. Get in the van at your own risk. His calculation of Sally had been on point, she was only out for her own survival and had bolted just as he’d expected she would, right into the path of his waiting vehicle.

  Recalling the way she’d flew up and over his hood gave him a sick feeling of joy that he relished. Making her pay was going to be such sweet victory.

  After scrubbing, he stepped into the OR and slipped his hands into the waiting gloves the nurse was holding out for him. Everyone in the room was hand-picked by him and he trusted them explicitly. Reynolds stood by ready to knock the patient out and wake them up again at his command, two trusted scrub nurses, Patricia and Lorna, that had been by his side for years were prepped and had his specific tools lined up and ready for his competent hands. With no acknowledgement to anyone, he reached over the instrument table and plucked a tool from the neatly arranged tray. Examining it, his face lit up with cold, wicked delight. The small metal scalpel twitched between his fingers in anticipation, ready and willing to perform his procedure. Leaning over, he brought the tip of the blade to Sally’s soft, smooth skin and pressed down slightly. As the first drop of crimson blood appeared, his grin widened. Let the games begin.

  Sally’s eyes flew open at the feel of the blade slicing into her. She screamed out from her gagged mouth and Cian leaned down to peer into her eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Did you feel that?” She nodded frantically, relieved that he’d heard her and would do something about the pain.

  Cian waited a few moments, lulling her into a false sense of safety, allowing her to think that feeling the scalpel was just an error. When he was certain she was relaxed, he resumed his task of cutting shallow cuts up and down her right arm, watching as the blood flowed freely onto the table and then dripping onto the floor.

  “Ahhhh! Ah!” Sally screamed out behind the gag with each swipe of the knife, the pain was excruciating, she felt it in every molecule of her skin.

  “So you felt that as well. What a shame. Tell me, Ms. Pope, how do you think those children felt when they were beaten? When they were being sexually abused by the men you let in your home? Children. Some under four fucking years old. You exploited them, used them to make a few extra dollars. You make me sick,” Cian spat at her.

  Sally’s eyes had gone wide as saucers as realization dawned. It wasn’t a mistake that she was feeling everything the doctor was doing. It was deliberate. She was being punished; tortured. Frantically, she shook her head and tried to plead from behind her gag.

  Her begging only fueled the fire of his rage. He motioned for the nurse to step closer with the retractor. In one clean movement, he sliced down her chest diagonally, ignoring the way her body tried to buck off the table. She was restrained at the ankles and both arms were spread wide and strapped down to the table. Forcing the retractor into the incision he’d made, he cracked her chest and then shot her a look.

  “Well look at that. You do have a heart. Pity it’s just an organ to you, no real fucking emotion from you at all. Pliers,” he ordered, holding out his hand.

  When the instrument was in his grasp, he nodded at Reynold’s who slipped the gag from her mouth. Sally promptly started screaming bloody murder; Reynolds quickly wrapped his hands around her throat, cutting off her air just enough to keep her quiet. Cian fit the pliers over one of her bottom teeth and then locked eyes with her.

  “One of those children was missing teeth. It’s only fair you know they pain that child felt, don’t you think?” Sally squirmed and bucked but it was no use. With a ruthless yank, he pulled the tooth out from the root, letting it drop in a stainless steel basin. He repeated the motion four more times before stepping back.

  “Shame about you hitting the pavement so hard that it knocked your teeth loose, isn’t it?” Sally was reduced to almost inaudible whimpers of pain now, and he was pretty certain she’d soiled herself.

  “Let’s finish this, I can’t stand to look at her any longer,” Cian said and retrieved the scalpel. With a precise movement, he punctured her aorta. She’d bleed out in minutes, a much more merciful death than she deserved after the hell she’d afflicted on others, but it’d have to do. They were a little ahead schedule on this kill and Cian couldn’t risk any unwanted visitors coming into his OR.

  When it was over and she was finally dead, Cian looked around and was satisfied on what he saw on his team’s faces. They all had their reasons for what they did, but it was never spoke of. Their acts of vigilantism would never be accepted by society, especially in the way they performed it. Some may have wanted him persecuted for what he did, but the simple fact was—he killed people that needed killing.

  The need inside him grew with each passing day and when the twenty-third day of the month came around, he hunted down one of his selected victims and carried out the punishment they’d managed to escape. Lately, the hunger to take human life was growing strong and it was becoming more difficult to wait the standard time he’
d set out for himself, making it difficult to balance the two sides of his life. The Dr. O’Reilly who walked in the daylight and was a legendary life saver, and the Dr. O’Reilly who emerged in the night was the judge, jury and executioner for anyone that escaped proper justice for their crimes.

  “Same clean-up procedure. I’ll write up the post-op notes next shift. Good work.” He walked out of the OR without another word, riding on the thrill of another successful kill under the nose of everyone in the building. It felt fucking good, powerful, he was drunk on the adrenaline of it. It was going to be a long four weeks.