Box

Introduction
I

“You’ve got an incredibly stressful job,” Pigface said. “But that doesn’t give you the right to engage in destructive, anti-social behavior.”

Pigface, my psychiatrist, knows about my gambling. Knows I’ve broken into people’s homes and assumed their identities while they were on vacation. Knows I’ve robbed wealthy donors while attending their parties. Knows about the random hookers, strippers, and lap dancers I’ve dated.

But she doesn’t know about the patients I’ve killed.

Not my own patients, of course. They’re more innocent than a virgin’s sigh.

I kill other doctors’ patients.

Not randomly, just those who treated me badly in the past. Maybe this one stole my girlfriend in college, or made fun of me in junior high. Maybe that one cheated on me or ripped me off. Years later they enter my hospital for a routine procedure. They don’t remember me, but shortly after I visit their room, they take a horrible turn for the worse.

They may not die, but they’ll suffer.

Just as they made me suffer.

Pigface doesn’t know about the patients I’ve killed, but trust me, she wouldn’t approve.