"Remember, take this medication every day, and if this mysterious illness of yours hasn't cleared up by next week, I'll make sure to make everything better. Ok?" Dr Read's sickly looking private patient nodded weakly as he took the medication packet from the Doctor. Barnabas smiled easily, but the patient took it as a comforting one. Not the snake-like, all-knowing, all-malicious grin that a spider had when a fly was enclosed in its sticky web.
"Thanks, Dr. Read. It's appreciated. I'll be-" the patient paused for a moment to clutch his pained, rattling chest that had been growing worse over the past few weeks, "-going now." Standing slowly as to not further pain himself, the patient started to cough and sputter, blood at first just flicking down his chin, then continuing into a waterfall frenzy of gushing red and ferocious copper smell. His eyes were pleading and begging, wanting the Doctor to stop the pain and the terrible taste that his throat was gagging up. Falling to the floor as he tried to force the blood back down his esophagus, it wouldn't stop pouring out, until finally, the patient realised his mistake. Either way, he was going to die. Very, very soon.
"Yes, you will Peter. You will be going now. Going to the other side. Let me help you with that-more than I already have," Barnabas knelt by the body that was jerking in a seizure, and started to stroke the patients shaking hair as he whispered,"You see, you are not the first, or last person to have died under my name. You know how I did it? I had to get a reputation, for looking after my patients well, like a good little Doctor should. Every so often, I would have to move away, change my name, as the death toll climbed up and up. I had to leave several patients alive, just to, you know, make sure. The medication I gave the chosen ones contained large doses of killer drugs I had made-did you hear that? I made them, made them all by myself, with my very own hands."
The Doctor had started to grow angry, and quiet, as the patient grew silent of his painful moans, the blood pooling on the linoleum tiles spreading towards the Doctors shiny brown shoes. "I am Barnabas Read. I will continue to kill. And I, Barnabas Read, will find others like me!"
All that was found by the council a fortnight later where Barnabas Read's secluded house in the middle of the forest used to be was a pile of singed ashes and fallen debris of furniture, bones, and melted plastic.