When Worlds Collide

by Charles Blair

  Immediately, I chuckled like a stoner hitting a bong.

  "That must have been one hell of a sight."

  "That’s not funny Shawn."

  "It is funny," I responded back. "Stop sweating the small stuff, you'll figure it out, you always do."

  "Alright Shawn, enough about my dysfunction, it's time to discuss yours."

  "Sure, what would you like to talk about?" I responded without hesitation.

  Cutting to the chase, Patrick said, "I know you're an astral projector, but something tells me there's more to your story."

  "What do you mean?" I questioned, knowing Patrick was correct.

  "Well Shawn, to start, you're hiding something, and so is your mother. With your mother, I knew from the first second I met her that she was denying crucial information, and with you, there's something else besides your astral projecting ability that is holding you back."

  Patrick was inching closer, and his awareness was making me nervous, but underneath it all, I wanted to reflect, like a mirror. You know, there are three types of people in this world. There are those living their lives to be seen, and then there are those living their lives to see. But, there aren't many living their lives, reflecting on what they have seen.

  Which one are you?

  I knew which one I was, and I wanted Patrick to change me.

  *

  “Patrick, you're right, my mother does have a secret, and it’s associated with mine."

  "Thank you for your honesty Shawn, but if you don't muster-up the courage to disclose the entire story, you'll never get better." Patrick said, telling me what I already knew.

  "So, what would you like to talk about?" I asked, allowing Patrick to guide me.

  "Well, let's look into the facts. You’re an astral projector. You murdered Doctor Clarkston, and claimed to kill someone else."

  “Yeah that's right. But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “My question, which you probably won't answer, who did you murder before Doctor Clarkston?"

  Capable of finding the truth, but unable to say it, I replied, "I don't remember."

  In Patrick-like fashion, he said, "See, that's bullshit, you do remember."

  I wasn't about to argue, because I knew Patrick was right, so I sat quietly until he said something.

  "Seriously, what's it going to take for you to face your demons?"

  Sarcastic but meaningful, I said, "It's going to take an accident, a small slip-up, and your ability to analyze."

  Before Patrick responded, he internalized what I said. He thought, with a tiny grin across his face; my secret was exposed by an accident. Understanding everything in life happens for a reason, Patrick responded, "Shawn, there are no accidents. It was meant for me to be exposed, as it will be for you. Tell me Shawn, what was the first hiccup in your life?"

  "What do you mean by that?" I asked.

  "Trace your life backwards, and tell me the first moment when you thought life was throwing you off track."

  I complied, and thought long and hard. Patrick's assignment was difficult, because most of my life has been dysfunctional, but I found what he was looking for. With uncomfortable emotions swimming in my gut, I said, "My life began to turn sour when my father cheated on my mom."

  "I'm sorry Shawn, what was that moment like for you?"

  "Not good," I replied. “My mother and I returned earlier than expected from the mall, and when we walked through the front door, we saw my father's naked ass, as he was on top of our eighteen-year-old neighbor, pounding her silly."

  "Jesus Shawn, that's horrible." Patrick said, responding to my honesty. “When you and your mother encountered your father sleeping with your neighbor, was life ever the same?"

  “No, it changed everything.”

  “Can you tell me how life changed?”

  "After my father was caught cheating, he became defensive."

  "Can you be a little more detailed?”

  "My father turned into a violent prick. I saw him beat my mother; he even held a knife to her throat."

  "Did your father place his hands on you?"

  "No. My father never laid a finger on me physically, or sexually."

  Patrick paused for a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

  "Wait a minute. You said to other therapists that your father physically abused you. What gives?"

  *

  Without warning, I was finished with Patrick's session. I wasn't engaging in conversation any longer, so I did what the general population does, I changed the subject.

  "I hate Doctor Sholvin."

  "Shawn, why are you lying about the abuse?" Patrick asked, trying to redirect my attention.

  "I'm not lying; my father never touched me."

  "Then why did you lie to the other therapists?"

  I didn't answer Patrick. Instead, with my mind fixated on infidelity, I confessed again, "I hate Doctor Sholvin."

  "I realize that Shawn, and now I understand why, but you're still using her as a distraction."

  If you remember earlier during my story, I told you that I wasn't finished killing. My next victim, yep, you guessed it; Doctor Sholvin is going to die. And there was only one person who could stop it, Patrick. Contrary to secrets, I felt that I should forewarn Patrick. Hell, I warned people before I murdered Doctor Clarkston, and I was successful, so I doubted this time would be different.

  "Distraction or not, I'm going to kill Doctor Sholvin." I admitted to Patrick.

  "What did you say?"

  "I'm going to kill Doctor Sholvin."

  "So this is what you do with your emotion, kill people?" Patrick asked.

  "Yep, I hate cheaters, so yeah, she's a goner."

  Patrick rolled his eyes.

  "You know Shawn; I despise cheaters as well, probably more than you, but they don't deserve to die. Child molesters, Doctor Clarkston, yeah, I'm right there with you, but killing Sholvin isn't right."

  "My decision is set. You can sit back and do nothing, or try to save Sholvin's life; I don't care either way."

  I could tell Patrick wanted to wring my neck, literally, but he didn't. Patrick was better than me, morally, and in all other facets of life. And if I wasn't sure about this, his response sealed the deal.

  Remaining calm, Patrick said, "Here I sit with a murderer, and instead of turning my back on you, condemning you, or even killing you, I'm reaching out to help you. However, I'm not allowing Doctor Sholvin to die."

  I wanted to give Patrick credit for his angelic spirit, but I couldn't, at least not yet. Boldly, I grinned, and responded, "Doctor Sholvin is going to die."

  "Do what you want Shawn, but I'm putting forth an effort to stop you."

  "How are you going to stop me?”

  "You and I both know that I could end your existence by snapping my fingers. You think you've perfected astral projection; you haven't seen shit."

  "Then do it."

  "No, it's not going down that way."

  "Answer my question Patrick, how are you going to stop me?"

  "Like an ordinary person Shawn; I'm going to warn Doctor Sholvin, before she does what I think she's going to do. And I’m allowing you to make your own mistakes.”

  "I was hoping you'd astral project, and try stopping me that way."

  "No you don't buddy. You may be an astral projector, but you’re still a lost child.”

  Despite the authenticity of Patrick's words, my conversation kept going down the wrong path.

  In response, I tried frustrating Patrick even more, "You won't astral project, because you're scared.”

  "Yeah, you're right Shawn; I am scared to astral project. I’m scared of what I’m capable of doing. You don't understand right now, but the satisfaction felt from working through problems in the realm of the living is much greater than that of the astral plane. Shawn, you can’t comprehend this because you're weak."

  Patrick was right. I was weak.

  But, Doctor Sholvin has to die.

  C
hapter 18

  ENJOY YOUR SWIM

  Who is Doctor Jessica Sholvin?

  Alternatively, should I ask, "Who was Doctor Jessica Sholvin?"

  Following Patrick's theory of mind, he'd say, "We are what we release, not what the world sees."

  So, who was Doctor Jessica Sholvin?

  Let's begin with what the world sees.

  Jessica is a thirty seven-year-old child psychologist. She graduated with honors, and holds a PhD in child psychology. Jessica is married to Mark Sholvin, who practices as a defense attorney. Jessica and Mark have two children of their own. Their first child, Kyle, is an eleven-year-old middle school student, who will never reach their parent's expectations. Their second child, Christopher, is seven years old. Christopher runs their household, and can do no-wrong in his parent's eyes.

  Jessica's practice targets children in need, mostly those with behavioral problems. Unfortunately, most of Jessica's patients or patient's families are forced to pay out-of-pocket, because she rarely accepts insurances. Jessica chose to conduct her practice in this manner because the out-of-pocket rate is one hundred and twenty dollars per forty-five-minute session, compared to a much lower rate if she went through insurance companies. Jessica wants to make as much money as she can in the shortest amount of time possible, which is a great concept, unless you're responsible for a child's mental stability. Because Jessica can work a few hours, based on her rate, combined with her husband’s absurd salary, she has plenty of time on her hands.

  What does Jessica do with her spare time?

  Well, her first hobby is exercising. Jessica is at the local fitness center about two hours per day. Within those two hours, she exercises, roughly, for thirty-five minutes. The remainder of the time, Jessica stares at herself in the mirror, socializes, and basks in the attention other guys give her. You see; on the surface, Jessica's physical appearance is what society calls, smoking hot. From head-to-foot, Jessica appears to be flawless, including her five thousand dollar boob-job.

  The other extra-curricular activity for Jessica is shopping. Oh, there is another hobby she participates in, but I'll get to that in a bit. Before I do, when the world looks at Jessica Sholvin, they see a professional who cares about children, an attractive wealthy female, a mother, and a wife. Let us look a little closer, shall we?

  Jessica and Mark were married for thirteen years, and within those thirteen years, Jessica was faithful for two of them. Although her husband, Mark, was and always will be a selfish money-hungry idiot, he was devoted throughout his entire marriage. Surprising I know, but it's the truth. I'm not sure if Mark knew of Jessica's affairs, but for his sake, I hope he never compares his DNA with Christopher's, because he'd be in for a rude awakening. Truth be told, Christopher's biological father's name is Donovan Jenkins. Donovan was a bar-tender that caught Jessica's eye one night during one of her outings with her friends, apparently that's not all he caught. Nevertheless, there are bigger, much bigger, fish to fry.

  *

  Now, I know you're aware of the threat I made on Jessica's life at Mountain Springs; although I never did such a thing, and you probably think I'm lying, at this moment I won't discuss it, because I must explain the relationship between Sholvin and Patrick. It all started several years ago when Patrick ventured independently. Patrick's presence within the mental health community exploded like Donovan during Jessica's outing. Patrick, who accepted insurances, also provided patients with an out-of-pocket rate of forty dollars per forty-five-minute session; obviously the rates alone, pulled from Jessica’s piggy-bank, not too mention, Patrick's patients were actually benefiting from therapy. Jessica, whose ego was superficially inflated, quickly became deflated, because she couldn't handle the competition, or not being the diva-guru of the mental health world, so pathetic! Needless to say, Jessica's distorted perception of Patrick only got worse, when he began holding seminars in and around the area. And because the state requires continuing education, Jessica had to attend Patrick's lectures.

  Patrick's seminars weren't the typical, boring, power point presentation that made you wish you were poking needles into your eyeballs. Patrick's seminars included entertainment, education, and enough emotion to shatter a picture frame. People, who've attended Patrick's seminars, take something with them, whether for their practice, or their personal life. However, Jessica attempted to ignore Patrick's words, which would be costly down the line. When Patrick lectures, he doesn't mix words, sugarcoat, or tolerate those who don't want to be there.

  About a year and a half ago, Jessica attended Patrick's seminar on wants versus needs. Patrick analyzed societal and superficial wants, and why our perception of need is so grossly misunderstood. Jessica waltzed into the seminar several minutes before it started, wearing garb similar to a porn-star. Well, maybe not quite as bad, but holy-shit! Jessica sat in row number two, several feet from Patrick's podium. For the first thirty minutes, Jessica was navigating on the Internet, using her five hundred dollar cell-phone. Of course, Patrick noticed Jessica wasn't listening to a word he was saying, so he decided to call her out. What Patrick did was unprofessional, but jiminy crickets was it funny. Patrick was educating on false representation of belonging and self-worth, and compensation thereof. He used this example, while Jessica was lost in phone-world; "Many people in our society lack belonging and self-worth, so they compensate to fill a personal void. Take Doctor Jessica Sholvin, for example, her balloon-like tits give her meaning in her meaningless life."

  The audience laughed so hard they busted a gut. Although; most of them felt bad for doing so, they chuckled as if they inhaled laughing gas.

  Jessica's attention caught Patrick's comment at the last second, standing from her chair; she asked, "What did you say about me?"

  In response, in front of the entire auditorium, Patrick said, "You heard me."

  Jessica picked up her purse from the floor, and said, before walking out, "Patrick, you’re a joke."

  While Jessica walked through the aisle, Patrick yelled, "Jessica! Look around, you're the joke."

  With-that-said, Patrick and Doctor Jessica Sholvin haven't spoken since.

  *

  So here we are, all caught up. Doctor Jessica Sholvin is going to die within two hours, and the only person who can save her is Patrick, who hates her guts. Patrick was home, several hours removed from his last session at Mountain Springs. Patrick was alone, well, not alone because I was with him, but Joy was at her mothers. Sitting in the living room, fumbling through contacts, Patrick found Jessica's cell phone number. Watching Patrick from the darkness, I wouldn't say he was panicked, but his adrenaline was pumped like a worked muscle. Cell phone in one hand, and Jessica's number in the other, Patrick thought, how am I convincing this woman not to make a poor decision, because it's going to lead to her death?

  Truthfully, Patrick felt that Jessica was as significant as corn wedged into a turd, but he didn't want her to die. He thought, Christ! Goddamn it Shawn, she has children, and because of you, I'll have them in therapy.

  From the darkness, I screamed, “Don't blame me!”

  However, Patrick was too occupied to notice the flickering light-bulb.

  There was no more time to waste on self-talk. Time was running out. Without anymore hesitation, Patrick dialed Jessica's number.

  Jessica didn't have Patrick's cell phone number, because if she did, she never would have answered her phone. The phone rang three times, and on the fourth, Jessica picked-up.

  "Hello, Jessica's phone."

  "Jessica, its Patrick Lucid, please don't hang up!"

  "Patrick Lucid, why are you calling me?" Jessica asked in response, completely thrown off guard.

  "I'm calling to give you a warning. You must listen to me."

  "What the hell are you talking about? I have nothing to say to you." Jessica expressed, with complete disgust.

  "Yeah, yeah, I hate you too, but please don't hang up on me. I'm begging for five minutes of your time."

  "Whatever, yo
u got five minutes. Make it quick."

  *

  Quick background, the day was Friday, and the time was seven o’clock. Jessica was speaking to Patrick, standing in her bathroom, preparing her make-up for an outing with friends. Now, by outing, I mean, a sexual rendezvous with Tyler Sabo. Tyler Sabo was a wealthy architect, who lived across town, whom Jessica met in the fitness center. Tyler was average looking with average social skills, but money talks, and Jessica was a slut for validation. Tyler, who knew Jessica was married with children, didn't mind being a home wrecker. The entire setup was appalling, because while Mark was entertaining game night with his children, Jessica was planning a game of her own, pogo-sticking. Okay, back to Patrick's attempt to prevent murder.

  *

  "Jessica, I don't know where you're going tonight, but I have a pretty good idea what you're going to do. I'm urging you, don't do it."

  "How do you know that? Who have you been speaking with? Did you talk with Tyler?" Jessica asked, as her head spun with confusion.

  "NO, I don't even know Tyler. Please, don't do what you plan on doing tonight."

  "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but you're pissing me off."

  "Jessica, if you cheat on your husband tonight, you're going to die."

  "Are you seriously threatening me? I'm calling the police."

  "NO, NO, Jessica, the threat isn't from me. It's from Shawn Walters."

  "Shawn Walters? The fucked-up child I had in treatment?"

  "Yes, I know you don't understand, but please listen to my words, don't go tonight."

  After a sarcastic laugh, Jessica replied, "Patrick, I'll never listen to your words. And as far as Shawn Walters, he'd be better off dead."

  The fact Jessica denied Patrick's words didn't cut him, but wishing death onto me did. Patrick knew what he had to do and that was nothing.