Doctor Mengele-Perfectionist

Send in the next one," I told my assistant. He nodded and walked off, obedient as always. I smirked and washed some of my needles and pulled on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. These were the only things that made it so I didn't have to touch them; they were so imperfect. Well, most of them were; this one wasn't so bad. This next one was the last of the day; she was always saved for last. That way, I could take as much time as I wanted to with her; my work required me to be very thorough.     "Quit pushing me you fucking Nazi!" her young voice yelled out. I chuckled; she hated to be pushed in here. But, my assistant didn't care what she did or did not like. I turned as she was pushed in the door, landing on the floor with a 'thud.' I nodded to my assistant who nodded in return and closed the door.      "So, how is my special patient today?" I asked with a grin, looking down at her. She said nothing; I usually liked it that way. But I had asked her a question, she was expected to speak when spoken to; I grabbed her hair and forced her to her feet. My hand came in contact with her cheek, making a harsh slapping sound; it wasn't the same satisfaction when I had my gloves on. "I asked you a question! You are supposed to speak when you are spoken to! Weren't you taught any manners growing up?!"      She shook a bit as I held her there. "I-I'm good today, Doctor Mengele," her voice whimpered. Her hands immediately grabbed for her head when I released her hair and went to lock the door; couldn't have her escaping. She stayed standing there, holding onto her head, running her fingers through her hair; some strands came out in her hands. She was totally unaware that I was right behind her.     "What the hell are you doing, still standing there?!" I raised my voice, my hand smacking the back of her head; it brought my heart pure delight when she yelped in pain. "Get on the exam table! NOW!" I ordered; my hazel eyes dark and sinister. I had this young girl pinned under my thumb; I liked having a little plaything of my own.      Her feet began shuffling over to the cot in the middle of the room; it wasn't fast enough. "Move it!" I yelled; she nearly ran over there. I pulled my gloves off, tossing them into the trash; her skin was so soft, I could bare to touch her, despite what she was. I walked over to her, my footsteps so graceful that they barely touched the floor. "I'm sorry for frightening you, liebe. But you need to learn to behave and do as you're told," I said sweetly; she hated when I talked like this. She knew I didn't care one bit about her, that I was doing this to make her trust me. To me, she was just a little pin cushion, something to stick needles in.      Her hands were in her lap and she kept her head down. "I-I don't want to do an experiment, Doctor…" she said quietly. I growled and grabbed her wrists with one hand and her hair with the other. I yanked her head back so shehad to look at me.      "Did I fucking ask you what you wanted?" I growled at her, my face twisted up in irritation. She whimpered and shook her head no; she knew better than to talk out of turn. "Then don't fucking talk!" I yelled, roughly letting go of her. I watched her curl up into a ball; she was so weak. She hadn't even been here and hour yet and she was already nearly crying. And yet, out of all my patients, she was the one who could endure the most pain. It brought me joy to be able to actually take time to cause pain; the others reached their limits in about an hour. This one though…she was different. I could take over 3 hours with her before she finally had had enough. Why she was like this, I didn't know. I didn't really care, though.      I rolled my eyes at her. "You're pathetic, you know that?" I scoffed, hiding a smirk when she looked embarrassed. I loved playing mind games with her; she was good at them, too. Her mind was strong, whereas most of the others here were quite weak and feeble. Yes, I enjoyed playing these little games of mine. I watched as she played with that stupid necklace that she wore. She was the only one who had been allowed to keep hers.      Growling, I stormed back over to her, grabbing her wrist and backhanding her across the face; it was much better when I didn't wear gloves, I could feel my hand hit her face. "Stop obsessing over that stupid necklace of yours! That fucking thing is why you're here! Can't you fucking understand that?! Why hasn't it sunk in that you're not leaving! You're mine! You're mine and only mine." I sneered at her, drinking in the fear on her face. It was simply intoxicating. Watching each of them turn into paste in my hands; it was sad that I wouldn't get as much time as I would like.      "Maybe you need to be taught some manners," I whispered, my breath warming her ear. I forced her shirt from her body, grinning insanely when she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to warm her skin. The midnight black of the bra she wore contrasted beautifully against her pale, marble smooth flesh. Just seeing her like this made me want to claw away that perfection. Why did she have to be one of the vermin? All she needed were blue eyes and she could look like one of us; like an Aryan. "Lay down," I ordered; she stubbornly refused to move. I heard a low growl work its way from the back of my throat, and my hand lashed out and slapped her face again. "I said lay down!"      I could tell that she was obeying reluctantly; she wouldn't do anything I said if she had a choice. But she didn't have a choice, none of my experiments did. "See? That wasn't so bad now was it?" I said with a sugar-sweet smile, showing my almost flawless teeth. That stupid gap, I hated it. It made me flawed. I wasn't supposed to have flaws. I was perfect, and damn anyone who told me otherwise.      My long, graceful fingers weaved into her dark blond hair. "You know, liebe, you could have been like me if you had just abandoned that worthless and pathetic way of life," I said. I knew that she had a lover. He was a member of the Waffen SS, himself. Now he was a pure example of the Aryan race: his hair was yellow, like wheat. And his eyes were bluer than the purest summer sky. He was an example, a role model, to us all.      Her small body writhed under my touch; Gott she was so pathetic sometimes. I huffed in an annoyed manner, rolling my eyes as I let my white lab coat fall from my arms. I allowed her to sit up and I draped the coat around her shoulders, shaking my head sadly when she pulled it closer around herself; she was so easily manipulated. "Is that better, Mein liebe?" I asked, smiling that fake smile again, kissing the top of her head. I grinned widely when she whimpered and nodded weakly.      "Yes it is. T-thank you…"      I kept grinning, wanting something else. "Use my name, liebe," I wanted to hear my name come from her mouth. I wanted that imperfect mouth to say a perfect name.      "Thank you…Doctor Mengele," she yelped out, tucking her chin down to her chest. I petted her hair sweetly, wanting to make her feel like she could trust me. I could trick her, of that, I was sure. But, she would never trust me if she knew my nickname: The Angel of Death.      I took pride in my title, official or not. Why was I proud? Well, I was helping to purify the world of filth. I was helping my people, the Aryan Race. I took great honor and pride in my work. The amount I was paid couldn't even compare to the satisfaction and glee that it brought my heart to spill the blood of the enemies of the state. They didn't deserve this gift called life. It was a gift that was meant for the ones who were worthy of living, deserving of the breath of life. I was one of those lucky ones. I deserved to live. I was worthy to walk amongst the living.      I turned around to go and retrieve my clipboard; I had forgotten to grab it. "Alright, mein kliene liebe, shall we begin? HEY!" I caught her jumping down from the exam table. I huffed and slammed my clipboard down onto the counter before storming over and yanking my doctor's coat from her shoulders. "Get back up there, you stupid Jew," I ordered, my hazel eyes piercing holes in her head. She whimpered and did as she was told. I sighed, annoyed, and walked back over to the counter, making some notes on my clipboard. I could practically hear her shaking as my pen scribbled down some notes, my handwriting perfect, just like me.      Some called me a perfectionist. I always had to have everything a certain way. My daily routine was a perfect balance of work and mind exercises. I always made sure to do little puzzles to keep my mind sharp. I quite often finished a book or two within a week. I liked to read; my wife Irene and I would often take our son, Rolf, to the library so he could read too. He was going to grow up and be perfect, just like me. My wife was perfect, too; as was my son. My family was perfect. My life was perfect. I was perfect. I was perfect, no matter what anyone said. I am perfect!
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