Chapter 9 Did You Really Want to Kill Him

It was already one in the morning by the time we got home. Cedric didn't switch on the main lights and instead used a floor lamp. The dim, yellow glow stretched his shadow long against the wall, casting a silhouette. "Sit still," Cedric said. He guided me to sit on the couch and then turned to get the first-aid kit. I watched him fuss around. The demon who had threatened others with a scalpel in the private room seemed to have vanished. In his place was the usual Dr. Mosley with severe mysophobia and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. After getting things ready, he washed his hands first with the seven-step handwashing method. For a full three minutes, he meticulously scrubbed every crevice of his fingers. Then, he walked over with iodine swabs and bandages. "Look up," he ordered as he tilted my chin up with his fingers. His movements were gentle but tinged with an undeniable firmness. The iodine swab rolled gently over the cut at the corner of my mouth. A stinging sensation shot