Story #5: Perfect

Title: Perfect
1-Sentence Summary:
Dr Adams is a popular plastic surgeon who has an obsession for perfection; soon his obsession heightens to cause him to go on a maniacal rampage and lose his sanity.



“Oh Doctor, I need you to fix a problem I have.”

Oh goodness, you don’t know how much I hear that every day. A problem? Just one? No, woman. You need multiple surgeries with a face like yours. Such a vile looking human. How did she even get married I wonder?

My name is Dr Adams and I am one of the absolute best plastic surgeon in the world. Many people come to me to fix their horrid looking flaws. Ah, flaws. Such a word I abhor.

Flat nose? Small eyes? Breasts too small? Cheeks too saggy? I’ve helped them all. Helped them looked closer to perfect. Although that’s the problem. They normally only stop at one surgery. I even offer to fix more of their ugly flaws but they refuse! Such foolish behaviour, I say. Everyone should, and must look perfect.

Infact, I feel the need of a perfect looking human population grow inside me every day. I feel I am sent on this Earth to help fix God’s imperfect race. I am God’s helper. I believe I am. There is no denying it.

Sometimes the urge to perfect a body gets too overpowering, I often fix up dead bodies. I’ve been sent to psychiatry multiple times for this, but I believe there’s nothing wrong with me. Everyone deserves to look perfect even if they die.

Another patient coming in? Wonderful. Another canvas.

This one’s rather pretty. Ah, such beautiful blue eyes. What a pity it came along with such wrinkled deformed lips.

“Doctor, can you help me to fix my nose?”

WHAT? Your nose?! Woman, you’re lips are hideous! Just thinking about it makes me get into a headache! My headache starts whenever I get angry. It makes me do outrageous things.

My head throbs painfully.

No, not your nose. Your. Lips. Your. Lips. Your face. Your chin. Y-y-y-our--

I grab her neck, covered her mouth and now her body is my canvas. Oh stop screaming, it’s so ugly. I suffocate her with the handy anaesthesia. Goodnight, ugly duckling.

My scalpel glides through her white skin so easily. Such soft skin. Perfect for working on. Crimson red blood gushes out. What a lovely color. Such beauty can only be found underneath our skin. So unfortunate all of us aren’t as beautiful on the outside. The blood streams down the cheeks in such a graceful motion. My scalpel reaches her lips and I give it a good slicing. Not much different from cutting up a sausage and re-aligning it. Oh, she looks better already. But, no, nonono. This is not enough. Never enough.

Hours pass and her whole body is covered in blood and slices of skin. Oh my, did I get carried away? My mind is in a blur. My head’s throbbing subsided. Looking at her, she still is not perfect. What is wrong with me? Where has my gift of perfection gone to? I panic.

She lays motionless. Is she gone? She isn’t breathing anymore. I feel so sorry. Sorry that she didn’t die looking beautiful. I’m sorry I could not fix you. I’m worthless now. I am not a perfect helper.

I grab a surgical knife. I start stabbing myself multiple times. It hurts. The pain is swallowing me.

However I see the same crimson blood flow out of me. I smile. I am still beautiful on the inside. Atleast that’s something to be happy about. My vision blurs. I hear thumps on the door and nurses calling out my name and my patient’s. Loud stern shouts boomed from the door. Must be the police. Oh.. they’re much too late. I... see the light. A light to a perfect paradise? I hope.