The Cure

Chapter 1

     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.