The Doctor's Assistant

'Life is Priceless'

One Month Later

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon at the beginning of November. Madds was napping in his room and I had decided to sit on the steel table and contemplate life. My reason for doing this? Mostly the result of a sugar crash from all the Halloween candy that the doctor couldn't give away. Don't leave me alone with a twenty pound bag of assorted chocolate bars if you don't want to face the consequences of your actions.

Anyway, I laid back on the table and remembered how it felt when I was strapped down and holding back screams. My heart was pounding out of my chest that day, fear overrode my senses, I was literally trapped. But I was also accepting of my fate, ready to die, finding bits of peace in the chaos that cascaded throughout my mind. After losing everyone that mattered, I only wanted that initial way out. My grades were slipping in the wake of my still rampant depression, people avoided me when I needed them most, Social Services wanted to take me in and put me in an orphanage. Lying about grandma and grandpa wanting to take me was the only way around being auctioned off to a shitty family. Water Lion has a lot of search results on how to forge documents, effective search results that is. The SS bought it, and now I'm here.

A multitude of things went through my mind as I walked toward the doctor's office. It was mainly just speculation about what would happen, how events would play out, my demise, etc. I never once thought that I'd get a job offer that I couldn't actually refuse. Assistant to a murderer? Sounded like an odd story plot. Yet here I am. Despite hating things at first, I'm glad that Madds took me on as his assistant. He's almost like, almost like a.... father.... to me.

Footsteps sounded from behind the curtain as a groggy Madds entered the lab, rubbing his eyes and shuffling toward a supply cabinet. "Good afternoon, Elliot. How are you feeling? Is the metal table a good resting spot?" The doctor asked absentmindedly while sorting through a few documents here and there, rummaging through the drawers until clasping his hand around a seemingly unmarked paper.

"Oh, good afternoon, Madds. I was just using this table as a thinking space. Need any help," was my reply as I got off the table and took up new residence in the doctor's shadow while he now searched through another cabinet.

"Good, good." Madds was just mumbling answers without really hearing me. His fumbling lasted another few minutes until he came across the other papers he apparently needed. They were bank statements as he later explained. But why would he need to be sorting through those now?

"I see you looking over my shoulder. I bet that you're wondering what these are. Well, I know you thought the deaths were sad, Elliot. The saddest part to me is paying out money to the families that realize that I had a part in the death of their child. What upsets me isn't the fact that I'm 'losing' money, no that's too idiotic to even entertain the thought of. What upsets me is the fact that most of the families are absolutely fine with a large sum of money while their child was so distraught that they wanted to die. Isn't that just extraordinarily infuriating, Elliot?" Madds' hands were starting to shake a bit in anger. He looked irritated in one of the worst possible ways. He was trying to hold back some pent up rage.

"I know what you mean. I'm angry, too. Money can't buy happiness, well, to us anyway. Money can only replace happiness where there was no happiness to begin with, where there is only greed and no remorse. And that's absolutely terrifying. But doctor, please try to calm down, the papers are getting crushed."

Maybe it was in the way that I said those lines, but after I was done talking Madds brushed himself off and took some deep breaths. The irritated look was mostly gone and so was the majority of his rage. The papers were still crumpled up a bit, but they'll live.

With a sigh, the doctor added a little more information to my wealth of knowledge. "I also pay off the hospital, police, and any other important figure in this busy city. Money isn't an issue so I can do as I please. Doesn't mean that I don't have ways to give back to the community, however. Organ transplants and blood transfusions are much cheaper thanks to me and to the teenagers that couldn't stand this place anymore."

"So that's why you live in the hospital basement. Makes sense now. Also, you're a really good person, Madds. You just have a weird dietary habit. Except instead of gluten intolerance you just like the taste of human flesh. Considering the amount of rabid gluten-phobes I've seen in suburbia, it's just about the same thing." My piss-poor attempts at comedic relief were failing. The doctor was just squinting at me at this point, trying to figure out what the hell I just said.

"You're a strange child, Elliot. There are times when strange is good, not this time," Madds shook his head and composed himself. "Moving on, I'll be out of the house tomorrow for most of the day. If a volunteer arrives, well, you know the drill. And if anyone beside a volunteer or I knocks on the door, you can tell by looking through the fairly large keyhole, do not for the love of the stars answer it. They'll be looking for me, ask who you are, and if you can't provide the answers they want then I'll be down by an assistant."

"Great job playing the pronoun game, but who exactly are 'they'? You haven't mentioned anyone showing up to ruin our lives for the past month and a half only to bring up a now imminent threat. This isn't a book, doctor. We are not characters chained to the will of a writer. Don't try to bring up some suspenseful conflict just because you wa--," I was cut off from my rant as Madds secured a roll of duct tape and put some over my mouth. Rude.

"Elliot, shut up. Do you truly need to know why I have a problem now?" Madds asked, waiting for me to answer him. I nodded up and down a few times. "Fine, during the month you greeted our only volunteer. As it turns out, she was the daughter of the chief of police. He's incredibly upset, unsure of what to do in terms of legal action, and he wants me dead. There is only one thing off about his story. He kept referring to her as male. Now of course I did ask what the fuck he was on about and said that no matter what he thought, she was always a daughter and never a son. Bastard didn't take that well, not one bit." He paused in thought for a moment, thinking of what he was about to say next.

"I still remember most of that conversation we had, Marissa and I. You were off to bed at this time, made enough sense since it was midnight and you looked tired to begin with. Letting you rest, we spoke. She said that she felt trapped in her home while receiving constant criticism from her mother and absolute hatred from her father. Her friends tried comforting her to no avail. In the end, it was unprovoked rage and back-lash that led her to feelings of inadequacy and self-hatred. Her parents inadvertently caused her death by ignoring all the signs of depression and aiming their rhetoric on things that should not matter. Yet her father still wants to act as though he loved her. People are very interesting, dangerous creatures. Words from one can easily shape the actions another takes."

I stood in awe for a few moments, fully taking in what had just been said. I had already ripped off the duct tape at this point, ready to make a remark, but I stayed speechless. We really did have an issue if that man arrived.

Madds and I exchanged glances before setting up a few precautions in case the officer did show up. Hiding places under tables, door barricades, the whole nine yards. We were both scared for tomorrow and the days that followed.

The bank statements stayed in a crumpled heap on the cabinet. An omen.