I'm a Therapist, and My Patient is Going to be the Next School Shooter

by Dr Harper

  I felt a bit guilty. I was the one who typed out that letter. But the ends justify the means, right?

  Still, Kierra’s ‘puppet master’ comment nagged in the back of my mind.

  “But then there are so many other things I don’t miss,” he said. “The drama, the fighting, the tricks… I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells anymore. And you know something else weird? She never introduced me to her family. I want to be with someone who’s excited to introduce me to their family!”

  “That’s great,” I said, glad that he hadn’t forgotten her darker qualities. “You deserve that.”

  “You really changed my life.”

  “Well, I also chased you with an axe,” I said. “But I appreciate that.”

  He continued pacing around my office. “Do you think Kierra will ever come back?”

  “I don’t know,” I said stiffly. “If she does, what would you do?”

  “I guess I’d hear her out,” he said. “She’s probably working on herself too, right?”

  I felt that dread in my stomach again. “Lucas, she was extremely abusive to you. People like that don’t change overnight.”

  “I guess, but I would want to give her the benefit of the doubt!” he said. “And then she’d be able to see how well I’m doing too.”

  I pursed my lips. “In your particular situation, I’d exercise a lot more caution.”

  “What do you mean?” He frowned.

  “Lucas, she wanted to cause you harm,” I said, anxiety kicking in. “I actually think it might be a good idea to take measures to protect your identity.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “My identity?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “People with Cluster-B disorders are notorious for returning and wreaking havoc in their victim’s lives, even years after the relationship has ended.”

  “So you don’t think Kierra could change?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, growing increasingly agitated. “But for now, I’d really recommend changing your address, your career, and your name.”

  “My name?” He laughed.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Please, will you just trust me?”

  “Okay…” He nodded slowly. “I mean, you got me this far. I’m not going to start doubting you now. But there’s no way I’ll find a new job any time soon. I didn’t finish college.”

  “You can come work for me,” I said, surprised by the words coming out of my mouth. “I need an assistant.”

  “Really?” His face lit up. “Wow, sure. That would be awesome! You won’t regret it. I’m going to be the best assistant you’ve ever had! Hey, we’ll be like the Batman and Robin of psychology.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Sounds like a plan.”

  If he was here, at least I could keep an eye on him for the majority of the week. And I could definitely upgrade the security around here.

  “For my name, how about something unique…” he said, gazing off into the distance. “Like Dutygreen Weatherfancy.”

  “Dutygreen– What?” I sputtered. “No. The whole point is to pick something that won’t draw attention to you. Here, just go with something from a list of common boy names.”

  I took out my phone and read off a few to him. “Liam… William… Noah… James…”

  “Oh, I like Noah!” he said. “Noah Weatherfancy…”

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered.

  But before I could look up last names, Lucas – or Noah – pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Thank you so much, Doc,” he said. “You didn’t just save my life. You made it a life worth living.”

  I looked into his eyes – eyes that were so eager, and so kind. Suddenly, I felt an extremely warm, soft vulnerability in my heart – an unexpected sensation I hadn’t known since childhood.

  So in that moment, I decided I would need to shut him out of my heart forever.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” I said, pushing him away. “You’ll start as my assistant in two weeks.”

  ◆◆◆

  I walked up the stairs of my garage with a plate of food. I looked at my phone’s security feed to ensure Kierra wasn’t near the door.

  “Alexa, unlock safe room.”

  The doors opened, and I stepped into the room. I had repurposed the entire space to provide all control from the outside, rather than the inside.

  Kierra was sitting in the corner, arms crossed.

  I walked over to her and knelt down with the food.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “I’m not doing your forced therapy sessions.” She took the tray. “So don’t even bother.”

  “I’m not going to keep you here without some sort of rehabilitation,” I said. “Let me help you.”

  “Dr. Harper, you aren’t God,” she said. “You’re not the police. You’re not the criminal justice system. You’re not a prison.”

  “I understand that,” I said. “But I’ve worked with the Cluster-B disorders extensively, and I think I could help you feel better. If you try focusing on your emptiness, and boredom–”

  “You’re like a broken record.” She chewed her food noisily. “Emptiness, boredom, emptiness, boredom… I keep telling you, I don’t want to change. You think my condition is a bad thing, but it makes me better than everyone. Better than you.”

  “Don’t you want to know what real love feels like?” I said. “Vulnerability, softness, freedom?”

  “You first, doctor.”

  Her eyes met mine – wide and unrelenting.

  The sociopath stare.

  I held her gaze, determined not to lose this battle of dominance.

  “You’re good, Dr. Harper,” she said. “But you have a weakness.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You don’t let reality play out the way it wants to,” she said. “You keep trying to arrange and control everything. But sooner or later, reality will win – and the floodgates will open.”

  “Floodgates?”

  “You know I’ll get out of here someday,” she said calmly. “And when that happens, I will make Lucas mine again.”

  I accidentally blinked, sealing the fate of our staring contest.

  End of Patient File #109

  A Note on Lucas

  Now you know the truth about Lucas – or Noah – which means you finally have all the information you need to read Patient File #220.

  I must warn you, it doesn’t paint me in a good light. At all. So before you proceed, all I ask is that you remember the good things I’ve done too.

  I care about people. I really do. I just get… agitated. And then I make bad decisions that come back to haunt me.

  Unfortunately, this one also came back to haunt someone I care about.

  Patient #220

  PART ONE

  As Officer Donahue finished punching himself in the face, I inched toward the desk drawer – where I kept my gun.

  “I’m– I’m so sorry,” he said, staring at his fists in disbelief. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  I slowly pulled away from the desk and eyed him curiously.

  “Officer, have you had episodes like that in the past?” I asked.

  “I think so.” His breathing was labored. “Yes.”

  “And do you recall what triggers them?”

  He gazed at the wall for a moment, then he turned back to me and whispered:

  “You have to stop me.”

  “Stop you from what?” I asked, heart pounding.

  “Please.” His forehead was beading with sweat. “In a few seconds, I’m going to forget. And then I’m going to do it again. It’s the only way I can save the drowning girl.”

  “Officer, stay with me,” I said gently, leaning forward. “I apologize if I’ve misread things, but are you the – the person on the news?”

  He froze and held his breath. Then let out a very pained nod.

  Aside from his personality, it made a lot of sense. Officer Donahue was a strong man, so he could eas
ily overpower young adults. And with a cop car, he’d be able to convince pretty much anyone to trust him.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to appear calm. “That’s okay. And what’s going on through your mind right now?”

  “It all started when my daughter went missing last year,” he whispered.

  He reached into his pocket and handed me a locket. I opened it up and saw a younger Officer Donahue, and a beautiful little girl – no older than 10 or 11.

  I handed the locket back to him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea.”

  “Ever since she disappeared, I keep having these visions.” He swallowed. “But I swear to God, they’re real. A young girl is drowning, and she’s begging for my help.”

  “What happens next?” I asked.

  “There’s no time,” he said desperately. “You have to stop me, right now. Can’t you think of some dangerous diagnosis and have me hospitalized?”

  I do tend to think about diagnoses pretty quickly, but this was too fast. I didn’t know anything about his personal life. His missing daughter could have triggered any number of psychological traumas.

  It could be Dissociative Identity Disorder. I know I keep guessing that, and I keep being wrong. Probably because 99% of the time, their alters aren’t violent. Sure, there are barriers between alters, but that doesn’t mean they blackout and forget a murderous rampage. Blackouts are actually extremely uncommon with DID.

  The other possibility was Cotard’s Delusion. But that was almost too perfect. A condition where the patient literally believes they are the walking dead. And typically that manifests as anxiety and depression, not cannibalism.

  Which brings me to cannibalism. It’s not a psychological disorder, although there are obviously mental issues that drive the compulsion and desire to eat another human being. Most often, a euphoric sexual high – or a surge of power. A relief from some sort of void.

  “Officer, what goes through your mind when you – bite a person?”

  He looked at me and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  I felt chills run down my spine. All of his panic and agitation was gone. Even his tone of voice sounded different.

  “What we just discussed,” I said. “Your… issue.”

  “With my wife?” he said with a snort. “We don’t bite each other. Not yet at least!”

  Knots started to turn in my stomach.

  “Officer, you just told me that you’re…” I let out a nervous sigh. “You said you’re The Zombie.”

  He looked at me for a moment and then burst out laughing.

  “Good one, Elliot,” he said. “Was that your big theory?”

  “No, I’m serious,” I said. “You asked me stop you. You said you were going to forget.”

  He got a weird look on his face and stood up from the couch. “Alright, I don’t know if this is your idea of a joke, but it’s pretty damn unethical.”

  “No, please–” I said. “Please sit down so we can talk.”

  “We’re done here,” he said, pushing past me.

  “I have to call the police,” I said. “I have to report you.”

  He spun around and leaned forward so his eyes were mere inches from my own. “I am the police. You’re already the laughingstock of the force, Elliot. You think they’re going to believe anything you say?”

  I bit my lip. There was a really good chance he was right.

  “Please,” I said, trying one more time to resolve this peacefully. “I know you can’t remember, but you told me you’re going to hurt more people unless I stop you.”

  He lowered his voice. “You need to shut the fuck up before someone hears you and takes it seriously.”

  “It is serious!”

  “That’s enough,” he said, turning away. “Next time you need help with your ridiculous patients, don’t call 911.”

  I watched him approach the door. My heart felt like it was on fire as I glanced from the door to the desk. And then I did something very stupid.

  I lunged for the gun in my drawer and held it at him. “Put your hands up!”

  “What the–”

  “Don’t even think about it,” I said, pointing at the gun on his belt. “Take it off and put it on the ground.”

  “Elliot, you do not want to do this…” he said darkly. “You’re pointing your gun at a cop right now. Do you have any idea–”

  “Put it on the ground!” I barked.

  He shook his head and slowly did as I said.

  “Now, we’re going to walk to my car,” I said, moving close to him so I could reach under his coat and push the gun into his side. “And when we pass by my assistant, you’re going to pretend everything is fine.”

  He glared at me, but started moving with me in an awkward embrace.

  “Hey Doc! Hey Officer!” Noah bolted up from his desk. “Need any water or coffee?”

  Then he noticed our strange embrace and raised his eyebrows.

  “No, thank you,” I said quickly, shuffling forward with Officer Donahue. “We just had a great session, and now we’re going to get some lunch. Can you please cancel my afternoon sessions and lock up the office before you head home?”

  “Okay, sure…” he said. “Is everything okay, doc?”

  “Yes,” I said with a forced smile. “We’re just working on The Zombie case together.”

  “Oh, wow!” he said. “Okay, good luck.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. But just as we made it to the front door, Noah spoke again.

  “Doc…?”

  Come on, Noah…

  “Yes?” We turned around.

  “What are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?” he said eagerly. “You don’t have any appointments, so I was thinking it could be fun to take you bowling!”

  “I don’t celebrate my birthday,” I said. “I’m just going to stay home and do some things around the house. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  His cheeks went pink and I felt bad, but we needed to get the hell out of here.

  “Come on,” I muttered to Officer Donahue, pushing him out the door.

  ◆◆◆

  I nearly tripped over Kierra’s old sneakers as I marched Officer Donahue up the garage stairs. I really needed to get rid of those. It wasn’t like she’d be leaving any time soon.

  “Alexa, unlock safe room,” I spoke into my phone.

  “Okay, unlocking safe room.”

  The door clicked open and I walked Officer Donahue inside. He saw Kierra in the corner and muttered, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Elliot…?”

  Kierra looked up and raised her eyebrows.

  “Wow, another guest at Harper’s Hotel of Horror?” she said. “Do most therapists kidnap their patients, or is this just one of your special perks–”

  “Kierra, please be quiet,” I said, tying Officer Donahue to the opposite corner.

  “He burns his dick you know,” she called over to him.

  “Kierra, be quiet.”

  “Who is this guy anyway?” she said. “Looks like a cop. Or is it roleplay? Oooh… I bet he’s some sort of male hooker that you can force to suck your burnt–”

  “He’s a cannibalistic serial killer.” I stormed over to her with the gun. “So unless you want me to give your new roommate a knife and fork, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME THINK.”

  Her eyes went wide. And finally, for a few blissful moments, Kierra stopped taunting me.

  I walked back to Officer Donahue and began emptying his pockets. Phone, wallet, keys… I took them all.

  I stomped on his phone to destroy any signal. My home was like a digital Fort Knox. But digital security has a major flaw. It can be hacked from the outside. That’s why I designed mine on an intra-net, not the internet. Meaning, you have to physically be inside my home to access the network. So, definitely no electronics allowed for my guests.

  “I’m going to go get some supplies at the hardware store,” I said. “To build a partition between the two of
you, so you can roam freely.”

  “Wow, so generous of you…” Kierra muttered.

  “No bullshit when I’m gone,” I said, ignoring her. “I have a hidden camera in here, so I can see everything you do.”

  As I made my way back to the stairs, I looked around the room one last time.

  Two prisoners living above my garage.

  Officer Donahue was right.

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  On my way downstairs, I cursed as I almost tripped on Kierra’s shoes again. So this time, I brought them down with me and threw them in the trash.

  ◆◆◆

  The following evening, I was reading a book in my living room – occasionally monitoring the video feed to my garage.

  The partition was built, so they didn’t have to be tied up anymore, which made me feel slightly less psychotic. But my nerves were still on high alert, like my entire body was tensed up.

  So when my doorbell rang, I nearly jumped out of my seat.

  I reached for my gun and checked the front door camera.

  “Noah…?” I frowned.

  I hurried to the hallway and opened the door.

  There was Noah, standing there with a cake.

  “Happy birthday, doc!”

  “Noah, what are you doing here?” I said. “I told you I don’t do birthdays–”

  “I know you don’t celebrate,” he said quickly. “But this isn’t a birthday cake. It’s just a happiness cake!”

  I looked at the cake and saw that he was technically correct. No birthday message, just a lopsided smiley face made of icing.

  “Noah…”

  “Come on, doc!” he said. “No one should be alone on their birthday. Let’s just have one slice, then I promise I’ll head out.”

  I glanced up to the garage behind him. This was wrong on so many levels. I was literally holding his ex-wife prisoner a few yards away.

  He gave me a smile and inched closer to the door.

  I sighed and motioned for him to come inside. “Just for a few minutes.”