The Cure

IT WAS CLOSE TO THREE IN the afternoon when he broke into her residence. It wasn’t his preferred method, but experience had taught him a long time ago that this approach was the ideal process to take if he wanted a legitimate chance to speak with any potential patients. He needed to get a few words in to make sure the subject understood what was going on before making any attempts to escape or contact the authorities. He entered the premises though the window in the bathroom, as the subject left it ajar every Wednesday afternoon after she had showered. Always left just a crack open because the vent in the bathroom was still broken. Despite numerous attempts to fix it herself, the patient had no choice but to open the window to make sure the steam from her long hot showers didn’t damage the wallpaper she had installed herself. The window was only slightly cracked open for ventilation, but he managed to slowly wiggle it open a lot more to squeeze himself inside. Once inside the bathroom, he scoured the room for any possible weapons the patient might try to recruit whilst taking a pee break. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance, as he then closed the window and locked it behind him to make sure there was one less way for her to get out of the apartment.

Once in the main section of the house, the man began to scout around and look other objects that could be turned into weapons. Guns and knives were a given, but anything else like rackets or baseball bats were also collected to make sure the subject had little to work with should an insurrection be attempted. He also looked for security devices, pets, anything that would give away his position. Once the residence was secure, he began to proof the house so when the subject returned, they would have all the privacy needed to discuss the current situation and have a genuine heart to heart about the urgent matter he wanted to talk to her about.

He had cut the main phone line before coming through the bathroom window and once inside he made sure there was no other means of communicating by placing a cell scrambler in the middle of the residence by hiding it underneath the coffee table in the living room. Once inside, there would be no means of calling for help and for the period of initial contact, which was his preference. He needed the patient’s absolute attention for the first day or two as the goal was to have enough privacy to conduct a serious conversation. Sometimes it took a while for the subject to be willing to even hear him out, so he brought supplies and was ready for the long haul if necessary.

The hardest part about setting up the house was the kitchen and the necessity to resist any urges to raid the fridge for something to eat or drink. In order to avoid being detected too early he could not touch a thing as disturbing too much could result in the potential patient finding out he was there before getting close enough to grab them. It was a mistake he had made before, eating leftovers that the subject was planning to eat the next day for lunch and noticing they were gone warned the person to his presence. So, to prevent that epic mistake from being made attain he packed his own food and drinks to consume while waiting for the subject to arrive. Once the subject was in custody, only then would their fridge be fair game. Until then, he couldn’t even take a glass of juice or milk, as even the slightest disturbance anywhere could result in early detection so he left as much of the house alone as he could. He also moved quickly because there was no telling how early or how late the subject could return. He had been watching her for weeks, but that still didn’t mean things were going to run as perfectly as he hoped. The key was to finish his work as soon as possible and then wait rather than get caught with his pants down and ruin everything.

Usually on Wednesdays she would be gone for hours, but this time she came home early. Two and half hours after leaving, the lock started to rattle, and he scrambled to take his position and hide. She came stumbling through the door, casually tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter with little care or regard. He could tell as she cruised into the living room that she had been drinking again. Considering her condition and how new it was to her… he could hardly blame her for taking to the bottle to drown her sorrows. Given the news she’s had to deal with anyone in her place would do a little drinking to ease the nerves. He understood, given the situation, but he wasn’t there to judge her. He wanted to speak with her whether she wanted to or not and it was now showtime.

As she strolled into the hallway, he made his move.

Popping out of the spare bedroom and grabbing her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her, which in turn pinned her arms and prevented her from fighting back. It was evident by her response that she was taken by complete surprise as she began to fight and scream, thrashing her legs around in any direction she could. She started calling for help and screamed at her attacker, using some very profound language, but he didn’t listen to her. Considering that he was an unwanted guest, he wouldn’t take anything seriously and kept wrestling with her and trying to pin her to the floor. For a woman in her condition, she had a lot of strength which he found very surprising as they both wiggled and fought for position. He had attacked her in the hallway for a reason, as the confined space was the worst place to resist him as there was nowhere to move around. Another lesson he had learned during his earlier attempts to subdue people against their will. Having a lot of space in the living room or kitchen made it easier for them to wiggle free and make a run for it, whereas in the hallway the confined walls helped to restrain and pin the subject down. As soon as he had enough control, the attacker was able to muffle her screams by covering her mouth up with a hand covered with a cloth that was drenched with a chemical meant to knock her out. It was a very low dosage as the he was not there to cause her any harm. She was very safe in his care; she just didn’t know that yet. Nothing was going to be done without her consent, but to do that he needed to speak with her first. In order to set up that talk, she needed to be restrained and tied down long enough to hear reason. It took close to two minutes before the kicking and screaming started to ease off but eventually the young woman stopped struggling and had finally passed out. Her attacker slowly and very softly loosened his grip and softly lowered her to the floor with care. He stood up and took a deep breath. He then proceeded to look out every window to see if there was anyone listening or heard what had gone on. He had timed everything perfectly. No one in the neighborhood was home, as Wednesday was the busiest day of the week. Everything had gone exactly how he had planned so far, but now it was time to set up the next phase.

This was when the intruder took especially good care of her. He transferred the subject to a bed and used restraints to tie her down. She was gagged as well so when she did eventually awaken, the first thing she wouldn’t do was scream. It took about a half hour to make sure she was secure and comfortable in her bed, and he didn’t do anything inappropriate to her either as his motives were noble despite his brutal and most of all illegal actions. It was at this point where he had to wait for her to wake up. Now it was safe for the man to go to the kitchen and raid the fridge. He whipped up a few sandwiches and scored some crackers and watched a little network news before finally hearing a commotion from the bedroom. He took a deep breath and turned off the television before getting back up and strolling back into the room. She had been out a little longer than expected, but she might have been drinking so the alcohol might have helped keep her out a little longer.

As he strolled back into the room, he watched her face as he could see the panic in her face as she began to kick and thrash within her restraints. This was a part he didn’t particularly like, but it had to be done with the hopes that things would get a lot better sooner than later. He didn’t get too close as he pulled up a chair and sat down. He motioned to his face and opened with what was a very simple question.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked her.

She paused for a moment and then softly nodded. She was being honest with him and that was a good sign. Her eyes were a good indication that she was telling the truth as they were wide as dinner dishes, and she was as pale as a ghost. The man paused for a second before continuing.

“I want you to believe me when I say I’m not here to hurt you.” He started, “I only want to speak with you. Do you understand?”

She nodded again.

“If I remove the gag,” he offered, “Can we speak like civilized adults?”

She nodded to confirm her agreement, so he bent over and carefully removed the gag from her mouth. She sucked in some extra air and took a few seconds to regain her composure.

“What the hell do you want with me?” she finally asked.

“I told you what I wanted,” Her captor answered, “I just want to talk.”

“About what?” she inquired.

“About you,” he answered, “About what’s going on in your life.”

“There is nothing going on in my life, mister!” She retorted angrily.

“That would be part of the problem.” He countered. “And that’s why I’m here. Well, that’s part of the reason why I’m here.”

“Look, I don’t want to die.” She started.

“Please don’t beg,” he chided back, “It’s quite beneath you.”

“But I don’t want to die!” she screamed back, to add emphasis to her desire to remain alive.

“That’s good to hear,” he replied, “Because I don’t want to kill you.”

“You’re a killer, aren’t you?” she asked.

“No, I’m not.” He corrected her.

“You asked me if I knew who you were, and I do.” She paused for a moment. “Aren’t you Xavier Carter?”

He paused for a moment. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re wanted for murdering a lot of people.” She then added.

“I’m also innocent until proven guilty the last time I checked.” Xavier replied, as he stood up and began to pace around the room.

“What do you mean by that?” she said, rather confused. He could tell by the look on her face. He had a lot to tell her, and it was only going to confuse her more, but it had to be done.

“It’s funny how people see things on television,” Xavier started as he strolled around the bedroom. “And they automatically assume it’s true because the news never lies. The truth is: the media tells a lot of lies. There were no weapons of mass destructive in Iraq, Lee Harvey Oswald wasn’t a lone gunman, and nineteen box cutting minions of Allah are capable of defeating the strongest military in the world. These are all lies, no different than the lies you are being told regarding my status as a murderer. I’m not a killer. Officially, I have only accused of killing someone. I haven’t even been given a fair trial, and yet the public has already made up their minds. The media lies all the time, but no one seems to notice nor care. Retractions are printed in newspapers almost every single day, but most people never go past page five to see them.”

“Are you saying you never killed those people?” she asked.

Xavier smiled as he realized she seemed semi responsive to his story, “Not only did I not kill those people, I’m also not a disgruntled plumber. I happen to be a doctor.”

“A doctor?” she repeated, stunned by this sudden revelation. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“I graduated with an MD,” Xavier replied, “Top of my class, but over the last few years before I started running, I had been working in research.”

Xavier walked to the other side of the bedroom and started to inspect the items on top of her dresser.

“That’s the reason why I’m here.” He added.

“I don’t understand.” she replied, unsure what he meant.

“There’s no logical reason for me to kill you,” Xavier explained, “Even if I was the monster the media claims I am.”

As Xavier said that he playfully fished around with the mess of small medical pill bottles on top of her bedroom dresser. “As a doctor, I know exactly why you’re taking all these pills. I don’t have to kill you, because what you’re being treated for is going to do the trick just fine. You’re already dying Samantha, so you don’t need my help.”

“You could tell that just from looking at my medication?” she quickly asked, as she began to wonder if anything he said was true.

“Probably,” he confirmed, “But I did a lot of research and background checks on you before I came here. I already knew you were dying. As I told you before, this is why I’m here.”

“Are you here to ease my pain like Dr. Kavorkian?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm. “Let me die with dignity?”

Xavier responded to her question with a hearty chuckle. “No, I’m not. I happen to also know the tumor that is killing you is inoperable and that you have less than a year to live, if that.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked him again.

“I’m here to offer you another choice.” he answered.

“What kind of choice?” she inquired.

Carter paused for a moment, as he knew what he was going to say next was going to make or break their conversation.

“What would you say if I told you there was a cure?” He asked her.

“I would call you a big, fat fucking liar.” Samantha replied.

Xavier smiled, walked back to the other side of the room and back to the door where he stopped just shy of the hallway.

“I’m not lying,” he informed her, “There is a cure and I’m willing to share it with you if you’re willing to help me.”

“Help you with what?” she asked.

“My research,” he answered. “It’s incomplete and I need to do more testing.”

“So, that’s your game,” the woman said, slightly disgusted, “You want to fuck with my head rather than body with all this false hope. That’s a really sick thing to do.”

She couldn’t believe he was trying to sell this crap to her. She was dying already and didn’t need to be patronized by her captor. It felt degrading. He understood that hearing something this huge was going to take some time.

“I know this is a lot to take in Samantha,” Xavier said to her, “I’m going to give you some time to think about it. I’ll be watching something on TV out in the living room. When you’re ready to talk, give me a shout.”

Samantha watched in disbelief as Xavier left the room and closed the door behind him. She couldn’t believe what was going on, but he appeared to be dead serious about his cure, or he at least believed he was. She felt like screaming every curse word in the book at him but didn’t have the energy nor the will. She laid there for what seemed like days but was only a few hours. She laid there and thought long and hard about what he had said and during that time she fell asleep.