She flipped through his patient files, noting that his history was quite extensive. Multiple suicide attempts as a teenager, then gunshot and knife wounds as he entered his twenties. Things were quiet for the three years during which he was institutionalized. After being successfully rehabilitated, he was once again allowed into society as a supposedly healed man. Less than a week later, the killings started again.
It took the police four months and thousands of tax payers dollars to find and apprehend him. It just so happened that he needed medical attention after his last stunt, and she was lucky enough to be assigned to him personally by the Chief of Police.
Why her specifically, she didn't know. All she knew was that she hated it. If the publicity wasn't annoying enough, the fact that everyone was shredding her name and reputation was. They didn't like that she had saved the killers life, and she had only one argument against it.
She was doing her job.
While standing over him during the surgery, she had to admit to herself that he was indeed attractive. His bone structure was ironically noble, his nose long and thin, jaw set and strong. Besides the wounds, blood, and scars, his body was almost perfect.
Her hands shook. Half of her wanted to stab him in the heart, unplug the monitors around her, do something -anything- to get rid of this freak.
The other half wanted to caress his narrow cheeks, whisper soothing words into his ear, kiss his forehead and tell him that everything was going to be alright.
She shook her head and gazed at the chart, reminding herself why he was admitted in the first place.
He had bombed one of the biggest businesses in New York, Existential Inc. It was the largest pharmaceutical company in this part of the New World, the one that supplied to every hospital in New York, including the one where she worked now, the one where he was harbored.
Lucky for him, they had plenty of medication stocked.