Page 5 of Stalked By the Doctor

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I've becomeobsessed. In between hospital shifts, I track Britney's movements—the coffee shop where she works, the laundromat she frequents, the park where she sits alone on a wooden bench, gazing out at a pond filled with ducks.

She interacts with few people, speaks to no one beyond casual pleasantries. I shouldn't take pleasure in this, but I do. I want to be the only light in her world.

I got her a cell phone, and I love see her face light up when she gets a text from me.

My sweet, precious girl.

I learn her schedule, the patterns of her days. And I look for any threats, any danger. Especiallymen. A few try to flirt with her, buy her drinks or ask for her number.

Their interest in her enrages me. I want to stride right up to them, snarl that she belongs tome. But I restrain myself.

For now.

When the time is right, Britney will be mine. No other man will so much as look at her again.

And anyone who dares try will suffer the consequences.

Fueled by my obsession and desire to keep Britney safe, I track down Britney's stepdad and kill him, ensuring he can never hurt her again.

It takes days of watching and waiting, but I finally spot him—a hulking brute of a man stumbling out of a dive bar, reeking of cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes.

My hands clench into fists as I think of him laying a single finger on Britney. The rage bubbles up inside me, hot and venomous, clouding my vision with a red haze.

I follow him into a dimly lit alleyway, my steps silent on the cracked concrete. When he turns to take a piss against the wall, I strike.

A sharp blow to the back of his skull sends him crashing to his knees. Before he can cry out, I loop a cord around his throat and pull tight, cutting off his airway.

He struggles against me, clawing at the cord and gasping for breath, but I hold on with a strength borne of madness. "You will never touch her again," I hiss into his ear.

When his body goes limp, I release my hold and let him drop to the ground. I stand over him, chest heaving, staring at his lifeless form. A grim satisfaction settles in my gut. Britney is safe now. Protected. Byme.

I meticulously cover my tracks, moving the body to an abandoned warehouse and arranging it to appear like just another drunk who died in his vomit. No one will look too closely at the ligature marks on his neck or question how he ended up in this place.

After cleaning myself up, I head over to Britney's apartment and check in on her. She smiles when she sees me, a warmth flooding her pale eyes.

"You always make me feel better," she says softly.

I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face, my touch lingering. "I will always keep you safe," I vow.

And she has no idea of the lengths I will go to in order fulfill that promise.

Despite the darkness of my actions, I feel a sense of relief and satisfaction. I've never killed a man. Vowed to never do no harm. But I did what was necessary to protect Britney.

The rage that consumed me during the act has faded, leaving behind a profound calm. I examine myself for any signs of regret or guilt but find none. Killing him was the only way to ensure Britney's safety and well-being. She is too precious, too vulnerable, to be subjected to monsters like him any longer.

I think of her bruised and broken body, the haunted look in her eyes, and my hands clench into fists. No, I did the right thing. The only thing. Britney is mine to protect now.

* * *

I continue to visit Britney, maintaining a facade of professionalism while secretly reveling in our connection.

"You're looking brighter today," I say, smiling down at Britney. She smiles back, a flush staining her pale cheeks. I reach out to take her hand in mine, stroking my thumb over her knuckles.

"I'm feeling better," she says. "Stronger. Thanks to you."

"I'm glad to hear that." I give her hand a gentle squeeze. "You deserve to feel safe and happy."

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