I crouched down over the frigid lifeless corpse and cupped his smooth, fresh shaven chin in my hand. Such a shame he had to die, he was beautiful. His jaw was nice and square, and he had prominent cheek bones with large, inviting emerald eyes. His body was pale, icy and beginning to stiffen. A shard of bitter pain pierced my dark heart as I dropped his face and rose to my feet.

I’d known Phillip for quite some time now and he had almost become something like a friend. At the very least, he was a strong acquaintance and a familiar spirit. I shook my head, the truth of the matter was, this man had been suffering and I freed him from his torment, I shouldn’t be aggrieved.

Phillip had been a prisoner to his own mind, he was alone in this world, which made his manic depression a thousand times worse. There was no one for him to turn to, no one to help him cope. No one to bring him back into reality when his mind sucked him into the dreadful abyss of self-loathing and fear. No one, except me. Phillip had confided in me, it took months, but he finally revealed to me the ill taunts of his past. Together we had ventured into the deep and shed light on the darkest corners of his broken mind. Phillip was a case I allowed myself to get deeply wrapped up in. Too deeply. It was just so frustrating that for weeks I would watch him make small improvements, even if it was just getting out of bed, going to the coffee shop each morning consistently and interacting with other people. The therapy was working! He was functioning in society, he was living. And then, at the drop of a hat, we were back to square one overnight, or worse, we would be ten paces back from where we had first begun. Perhaps, I should have ended his life sooner, but I just couldn’t cease the obsession of trying to fix him. I wanted desperately to make him well.

The suicide was easy enough to stage and I knew the authorities would believe it, especially when I released Phillip’s patient records over to the local police department. I placed my gloved hands on my hips and took one last look at the scene I had created. Feeling quite pleased with my work, I turned and quietly crept out the window, leaving Phillip’s cold lifeless corpse hanging from the pull up bar installed on his bedroom door frame. Once on the ledge, I closed the apartment window behind me, took one graceful step and landed silently on the sidewalk two stories below.

As I darted at supernatural pace the six miles to my hidden car, my mind began to simmer to an ease. It aimlessly wandered about Phillip, reminiscing about the positive therapy sessions. The progress. It seemed to be impossible to remember the good without picturing the bad. The darkness that clung to Phillip even managed to hover over his memory like a brooding storm cloud.  At least he is no longer suffering; in this life nor the afterlife and he will forever be a part of me-literally. His mind may have been ill and because of that he appeared weak to most, but his soul was strong and that was more evident to me now than ever before. I felt more alive than I had in months.

Once inside my car, I peered in the rear-view mirror at my reflection. My skin was radiant, granting me a natural rosy blush and giving prominence to the freckles that dusted my cheeks and nose. My silver hair was shiny and voluminous, and there was a lively sparkle to my icy grey eyes. I said a mental “thank you” to Phillip and floored it to Nettlesburg.

When I arrived at the office the next morning, my receptionist, LuAnn Keedy, gave me a big grin and a wink as I walked through the front door. “Hey, LuAnn,” I couldn’t help but smile back at her. LuAnn was the sweetest old lady in Nettlesburg. She had icy blue eyes framed with long false lashes and layers of purple and blue eye shadow blended on her lids, generously blush-dusted cheeks, and fierce red lips. Despite teetering right on the edge of seventy, LuAnn loved to doll herself up with layers of make-up and she owned a vast array of wigs, all different colors, shapes, and lengths.

Today LuAnn was wearing a royal blue velvet sweater, black slacks, and cheetah print flats. She had big diamond studs in her earlobes and a bunch of chunky bracelets stacked on each of her wrists. “You’re glowing today, Dr. Welkin,” she spoke in a cheery tone. I felt touched by this simple compliment, LuAnn had been worried about me. Until last night, it had been nearly four months since I had consumed a soul and the effects of deprivation were really beginning to show big time. The dark circles under my eyes and the poor complexion were becoming nearly impossible to hide with make-up, clumps of my hair were beginning to fall out, and I could feel myself inching closer and closer to morphing into a hideous demon. “Thanks," I smiled, "I feel great, what’s the schedule look like today?” LuAnn clicked around on the computer at her desk. “Well, a few regulars coming in. Hannah Gibbs, Ronald Billingsley, and one newbie, an Alan Litner.”

I had LuAnn gather up all of Phillip’s patient records and charts so we could be prepared when officials came by our office. Phillip would have been coming to see me today for his routine therapy appointment and then again on Thursday. Since he had no family or friends and there was a chance that he may harm himself due to the severity of his depression, I would have to call the police myself and report that he had missed two therapy sessions. The authorities would investigate and find that he had hung himself and this situation would be laid to rest. After decades of eating souls, I had become pretty good at staging suicides or accidents and I had never been caught or even suspected of a murder. Even so, it was a weight lifted from my shoulders once I knew an investigation was over and the victim was declared deceased of whatever cause.

The day breezed by, I saw Hannah at the beginning of the day and Ronald right after lunch. I was just finishing up my notes in Ronald’s chart when Casia stepped into my office. “Nat, you look amazing. I’m so glad you’re alright.” I smiled, “yes, it was a close call this time.” As she looked at me her smile began to fade, and I could truly see the concern that hid under the surface. “Maybe it’s time for a vacation, Doc,” she spoke in a gentle lighthearted tone, but the sound didn’t match the distraught look on her face. “Casia, I’m fine. I went too long without feeding and I had a little scare, but I’m okay now.” I was trying my best to reassure my oldest and longest standing friend, but I knew where she was headed with this conversation and deep down, I knew she was right. I just wasn’t ready to uproot and start over.