His Darling Assistant

Part 19: Anything for You

You watched as the burly inmate that was now Joseph Sharpe's roommate was escorted into his new room, leaving you with your ex. You chuckled to yourself, you couldn't help it. The sound caused Joseph's ears to perk, and his eyes to widen, each new sound a potential sign of danger. The fear in his eyes almost scared you. Almost.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed picking at his bleeding cuticles, his eyes darting around the room, wary of every nook and crevice where the bugs might hide. He looked pathetic. The hulking, terrifying man that he once was had made way for this skittish thing in front of you. You had to give it to Dr. Crane, his toxin did wonders.

"Joseph."

He looked up at you. Bags lined his eyes, and his skin had turned a sickly sallow color. You gripped the handle of the knife in your pocket, heart beating fast in anticipation.

I'm really gonna kill him.

"Joseph, do you recognize me?" It was a question you had asked every time you visited him, and he'd always say no, shaking his head in confusion. Something was different this time, though. It could have been the new meds he was on, or maybe the toxin wears off in time, but his eyes widened, and then narrowed slightly.

"It's you," he said, malice dripping from his words. Your grip on your knife tightened as he stood. You took a step back, your blood running cold.

"Joseph-"

He stepped forward, and without giving yourself a moment to think, you struck.

Your dream was surprisingly accurate.

You plunged the blade into the man who had caused you years of trauma, hoping that the pain would live up to at least half of what you'd had to go through. First his throat, then his eye, then his chest, and then over and over and over, blood everywhere. Finally, when any resemblance of a human was gone, you stood over the pile of tissue and blood, breathing heavy. You rolled back your shoulders, a noticeable weight now lifted, and smiled.

Your dream was so accurate, you half-expected Jon to be standing, smiling down at you when you looked up. He wasn't, of course. You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

You took a deep breath, clearing your head, and stood up. Dr. Crane had no part in this.

It took you a moment to register the blood that coated your front and ran down your arms, warm and sticky. Luckily, since you waited until the workers went home, being covered in blood wouldn't be a problem. You methodically changed, putting the bloody garments and the knife into the plastic bag that held your change of clothes. You rinsed off your hands in the bathroom, pointedly staring at the blood in the sink to avoid the mirror. You didn't know what thoughts you'd have to face if you looked yourself in the eye just then. Leaving the bloody mess for the morning shift, you wheeled the body and bag into the incinerator, watching as it dissolved into ash.

Once it had all been taken care of, you found yourself outside of his cell, once again staring into that window at him. He stared back. He wasn't smiling this time, just looking at you with a knowing gaze, as if he could see past your eyes into your mind. You stared back, all emotion foreign and somewhere far away. Now, both of you were killers. Jonathan looked proud.

His face didn't change, still staring at you over his crooked glasses as you opened the door and stood across from him. He just looked at you, expecting and knowing all at once. The same force that had you fix his glasses the other day took hold of you once more and you stepped forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Thank you," you said, and meant it.

He finally smiled and replied, "Anything for you, Darling."

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