The Cursed Doctor

Part 2

"Oh," I murmur and turn away. "Please excuse me." Taking my fresh cup of coffee with me, I go to answer the polite knock that has echoed through my front door.

The coffee is still quite hot so I carefully hold the mug by its handle, making sure none of my fingers brush the scalding ceramic. I reach for the door handle and squint into the morning light accompanying its opening.

"D-Doctor?" My jaw falls open at the sight of him imposing in my doorway. He takes no time to lurk past me into the safety of my home, thick black cloak sweeping in after him like an ominous shadow. As I'm too stunned to move, he closes the door for me.

I exhale the breath I didn't know I was holding and blink a few times. Why is he here? Never have I seen him out in daylight before.

The doctor takes advantage of my slow working mind to steal my mug from me and place it upon the table next to my door, avoiding the small stack of letters also on its surface. He briefly shakes the burning heat from his hand then snatches up my wrist.

I squeak and recoil at the sharp, bruising pain from the wound he's so politely reminded me of. He doesn't release me as I struggle but instead loosens his grip so that his other hand may push up the sleeve of my shift. The puncture wounds bloom like angry red flowers on my arm.

"Why have you not dressed these?" His attention moves from my arm to my face. Although obviously perturbed by the wound's lack of medical attention, I'm picking up a strange tone of relief in his question.

I hum noncommittally and look away. "Must have slipped my mind." He doesn't respond and I'm forced to look back up at him. "Is that why you're here?"

Suddenly, he ducks and I feel his hand dive under my skirt to slide up my leg.

"W-wait!" I protest, louder than I meant to, and step away from him; the entry hall to my house is rather small and I'm quickly backed into a corner.

"I know you harbor an identical pair of wounds along your hip," he insists. "Show me."

"Here?" My eyes flash to the doorway leading further inside and back to him, just as he hitches up my skirt again. "Now?"

He chuckles. "Think I have the time to wait for you to 'decide' to undress?" He shakes his head, as if it's obvious he doesn't. Leather fingertips tickle over the edge of my panties, now inches away from his supposed goal.

"Hey!"

His fingers stop. The doctor leans in to whisper to me, "I was unaware you were entertaining company."

"Who do you think you are?" the angry voice barks again.

The beak swings towards my kitchen's doorway to acknowledge the most unwelcome interruption. Despite being caught with his hand up my skirt and the tone of the man's voice, my doctor does not release me. If anything, I might even feel his body shift into me more.

"Damien," I practically pant. "I-It's okay."

"Like hell it is," Damien growls and stomps in his heavy boots up to us. Reaching out for my captor's shoulder, I catch the shiny blade of a knife appearing from somewhere within the doctor's coat to slice open Damien's outstretched hand. I'm squished between the thick fabric of the doctor's coat and the wall while Damien recoils, howling in pain.

"Stop!" I bang my fists against the back in front of me, trying fruitlessly to intervene. Damien grunts with exertion as he throws a fist, connecting with a slap against a leather palm.

I duck to the left, the side not brandishing the knife, and attempt to escape— but am thrown back into my makeshift jail by the doctor's free hand. I stomp my feet in frustration. I know I won't be able to convince the doctor to cease his antagonistic behavior, but Damien, he may listen to me. "Damien! Stop, please! He's my doctor!"