🔪Doll🔪

Chapter 5

(Aris POV)

After I end the call with Remo, I place a call to the Chicago Police Department to tell them that their incompetent services are not needed where Amara is concerned. They try to argue with me about their liability and such, but once I speak with the chief and tell him who I am, he assures me that they will step back and let me handle her security, though their investigation is still ongoing.

Of course, I didn't tell them that I will be handling that too.

After I end that annoying call, I eagerly make my way back to Amara's room. Now that she is a part of me, I can't stand to be apart from her.

However, I know that it will certainly raise concerns of professionalism amongst other things, if I stay ensconced in her room twenty four/seven, which only raises my anxiety.

How am I going to deal with this...these feelings? It's overwhelming.

I have things to do, people to help, people to save, people to kill. Not to mention that I also sit on the board at the Price-Sinclair Corporation.

Maybe I could take a sabbatical...

No, I know I can't do that; at least not right now, not if I want to stay on as Amara's primary physician. I don't trust her care to anyone but myself.

I pace anxiously, wound up tighter than a girdle on a Baptist minister's wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast.

I always get like this before a kill...thinking about the exhilaration that I'll feel...the intrigue of it all...the thrill of the hunt.

This time though, it means so much more because I am avenging someone that I actually care for...love.

I glance over at Amara and come to a halt. Here I am, wasting time pacing when I could be spending it with her.

I look down and notice that the ugly motherfucker's mugshot in my clenched fist is now severely crinkled.

I quickly straighten it out and lay it on a nearby crash cart.

I'll be seeing you soon, JB...

I pull a chair up beside her bed and thoroughly sanitize my hands with several pumps from the wall mounted dispenser, before taking a seat.

I slide my bag around, so that I can't sit more comfortably, and just stare at her.

No...not stare...study.

My eyes roam, taking in every single millimeter of her that I can – what's not in the body cast or bandaged anyway.

She's so beautiful...but unbelievably filthy too.

Even a sadistic fuck like me cannot even begin to imagine what she's been through, but despite knowing her fragile condition, I'm beyond pissed that she wasn't cleaned up better than this.

My OCD is kicking into overdrive as I wring my beanie in my hands, itching to give her a proper sponge bath.

Nothing inappropriate...just a competent, thorough cleaning.

She's so thin and gaunt that her cheekbones are protruding. I can't wait to take her to the best restaurants and happily watch her eat.

I can tell her hair was once beautiful, blonde, and lush, but it's so matted now that I don't know if it can be saved.

I glance down and see her grimy, jagged nails that looks like there's years of buildup underneath them.

I clench my jaw furiously, wondering if she was kept in a barn.