The Good Listener

by B. M. Hardin

  I wasn’t as surprised by his answer as I thought I would have been.

  He definitely gave me the vibe of a serial killer, according to all of the things that I’d researched and studied about them.

  But I was still frightened to a certain extent just to be sitting in the same room with him.

  “You liked it? You didn’t feel guilty at all?”

  “No. Not one ounce of guilt. That’s why I need help. Something is wrong with me. I don’t want to do it again.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “If it were that simple I wouldn’t be here Hannah. I live for those moments when blood splatters on my face or when someone takes their last breath, and I’m the last face that they see. It makes me feel alive.”

  I struggled to keep my face together, and my heart dropped to the pit of my belly.

  The look in his eyes told me that there was truth and a story behind every word that he had just said.

  I almost didn’t want to continue the conversation, but I knew that I had to keep going.

  I couldn’t show him fear. I couldn’t show him that I couldn’t handle his confession.

  “Who? Who did you kill Blake?”

  “Would you ever try to go to the police? I’ve already said more than enough, and I’m just getting started. I would hate for things to turn ugly.”

  Was that a threat?

  Sure sounded like one to me.

  “Why would I go to the police? You know that I can’t do that. What you say to me here stays in here.”

  He looked at me.

  I wasn’t sure if he was actually implying that he would harm me if I tried to tell authorities of his plans, but not only could I not by law, now I surely wouldn’t out of fear.

  Something told me that I had better not take his words lightly, and I didn’t plan to.

  I guess now I was stuck helping him whether I wanted to or not.

  “Who did you kill Blake?”

  He was edgy, and I could tell that he was about to shut down on me.

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re already dead. Some have been maggot food for years, others are….it just doesn’t matter.”

  “Could I be the judge of what matters or not Blake? It could be the smallest thing or the smallest detail that leads the way to your breakthrough.”

  “In due time.”

  He was making everything so difficult.

  But I was good at my job, so I could play his games with him until he got tired of running.

  The way I saw it, the longer he came to me to talk it out, the longer his next victim stayed alive.

  We seemed to stare at each other for a while.

  He didn’t say a word and every time that I started to say something else, he asked for silence.

  So we simply sat there and finally he spoke.

  “What did you say your favorite color was again?”

  Huh?

  And we were back to the basics again.

  I was doing something that I never tried to do with my patients.

  I was diagnosing him with all of the things that I thought could possibly be wrong with him before having enough time and information from him to back it up.

  But there were so many things that I felt could be issues with him that my head felt as though it was going to explode.

  I never called my patients this out loud and most of the time, I wouldn’t even allow myself to think it, but Blake was every last drop of crazy.

  He definitely needed more than just therapy.

  And I was starting to regret getting involved.

  As Blake continued to ask irrelevant questions, I took a deep breath, relaxed and for the rest of the session I let him lead.

  I allowed him to ask me any question that he wanted to, anything under the sun.

  I allowed him to jump from topic to topic.

  I allowed him to tell me any and everything that he felt the need to.

  And I did my job; I listened.

  Once he was gone, I spent hours typing notes about him and researching possible solutions and mental studies that he seemed similar to.

  I had to force myself to leave, and once I was home, I sat in the car for another hour simply rereading a few of my notes on him.

  It was clear that he had the mind and the signs of a psychopath, and if I didn’t find a way to get through to him, he was going to do just what he’d said that he was going to do.

  He was going to kill…again.

  And there was no doubt about it.

  ~***~

  “Hello?”

  They hung up again.

  I wondered if it was Blake.

  Of course, I had definitely given him my personal number just in case he had an after-hours urge or some kind of emergency where he needed to talk on a day that he wasn’t scheduled.

  But thinking back to when the mysterious calls began, he didn’t have my contact information back then so it couldn’t be him.

  But considering that the calls were always private and the number was always unavailable, I wasn’t sure if it was someone playing games or someone that really needed my help.

  But I answered, hoping that one day they would brave enough to speak, and on that day I would be all ears.

  “Doesn’t that bother you? Folks playing on your phone.” China asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Anymore strange roses?”

  “Not in a little while. I really needed this,” I chimed.

  I’d worked myself to death.

  I was exhausted and the one day that I’d decided to give myself a break, Joel had to work late himself, so I took China up on her offer for dinner.

  Honestly, I was actually glad to be hanging out with her instead of my husband.

  Since I’d been seeing Blake and working even harder, his complaining and nagging was through the roof.

  He never seemed to shut up and here lately, whenever he started talking, I ended up with a headache.

  China was much better company.

  “I invited Summer to come along with us; but she had plans,” I said to her.

  China waved off my comment and took a sip of her drink.

  China and Summer were pretty much my only friends.

  I was well acquainted and close with my other colleagues, but we rarely spent time outside of work.

  They all had full blown families with wives, husbands and kids, so they were often struggling to make time for loved ones just like I was.

  But China and Summer were both childless and single, so they were always available.

  Considering that I was an only child, and both of my parents were deceased, all I really had was them, Joel and his family.

  If it weren’t for me being married, meeting China and hiring Summer, I would be pretty much all alone except for a few distant cousins that I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen them.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Joel wants a baby.”

  “Really? That’s great. I thought that’s what you wanted too or did I miss something?”

  “I do, but I’m just not sure if right now is the right time. I have a full plate. It’s just a lot going on at work.”

  “Work? I have never heard you complain about work Hannah or even use it as a reason not to start a family.”

  “Funny. Joel said the same thing.”

  The murder issue with Blake had me completely off of my game and the fact that he was so sure that I was the only one that could help him just added more pressure.

  He wouldn’t even consider going to any other psychologist.

  Believe me, despite my fear that he might want to tie up loose ends I’d still suggested it, but it he refused.

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure that you’ll find the right words to say. You always do,” China concluded, sensing that something really had me bothered.

  But I wasn’t so sure.

  For the first time, ever, I was second guessing my abilities.

  I found myse
lf thinking twice before opening my mouth.

  “And you were right. I left the married man alone.”

  Thank you.

  I smiled at China.

  She had been through so many different men in all of the years that I’d known her, and I was sure that she was tired.

  At first, it was all fun and games, but she was getting older, and whether she admitted it or not, she wanted real love.

  And I was hoping that she found it soon.

  After a while, I actually managed to relax and take my mind off of Blake.

  I enjoyed the rest of our dinner and then finally it was time to head home.

  When I arrived, I found that Joel wasn’t there.

  Of course, he’d known of my plans to meet with China and after I had been home for about an hour or so and with still no sign of him, I called him.

  But he didn’t pick up.

  Exhausted, I figured that I would relax on the couch so that I could hear him come in.

  Minutes later the doorbell rang and with caution, I headed to the door. I was surprised to see that it was the police.

  Immediately, I started to panic and ask questions about my husband, and they looked at me confused.

  “Are you Dr. Lewis?”

  “Yes, I am. Is my husband okay? Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure where your husband is ma’am. Do you know a Mrs. Whiteside?”

  What?

  I nodded.

  “Yes. She was a patient of mine. I haven’t seen her since her last day of therapy. Is she okay?”

  “I’m afraid not. She’s dead.”

  What?

  “When? How?”

  She was fine the last time that I saw her.

  It just didn’t make sense.

  “Hours ago. We won’t say how, but her husband found her. Dead. It’s presumed to be a suicide. Your cell phone number was the last number that she’d dialed.”

  My heart felt so heavy, and tears escaped from my eyes and rolled timidly down my cheeks.

  Suicide?

  Why would she commit suicide?

  I’ve never lost a patient…until now.

  It just didn’t make sense.

  She was supposed to be better.

  “Did you speak to her? At all?”

  “No. The last time I saw her, she seemed fine. She decided to stop coming to therapy because she thought that she was better. Where was her husband?”

  “He was at work. He came home and found her dead. He said that she had been acting strangely. He said that he suggested that she go back to therapy but she never did. Apparently, he’d seen her talking to the doll, calling the doll by their deceased child’s name. At that point, he knew that she still needed help.”

  That was the start of her depression.

  She had taken her eye off of their five-year-old for only a second at the park to search her purse for a tissue and just that fast, someone had snatched up her child and carried her off.

  That was the last time she saw her.

  They never found her child and Mrs. Whiteside never forgave herself. She had been depressed ever since but after two years of therapy, I thought that she was okay.

  I thought that she was just fine.

  “Do you know why she would have been calling you?”

  I shook my head.

  “She never called the office. And if she was the person who had called me just hours ago, the number was private. The calls were always unavailable, which doesn’t make sense. I’ve been getting the calls for a while now, but no one ever said anything. If it was her, the whole time, why wouldn’t she have said something? Why wouldn’t she have told me that she was in trouble?”

  For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t have said anything.

  Maybe she was in denial.

  Maybe she didn’t want to admit to herself that she still needed help.

  Maybe she assumed that I wouldn’t be able to fit her back in and was unsure if I would give her off the clock help, but I would.

  I enjoyed being recognized for my work, but my patients were more important than any award or achievement that I could ever receive.

  I cared about them.

  And after treating Mrs. Whiteside for the past two years, I definitely cared about her.

  I headed to retrieve my phone to show them that I’d just had a private call only a few hours before.

  She must’ve called me just before killing herself.

  She must’ve thought at that moment I could change her mind, but she hadn't allowed me to. I was so heartbroken, disappointed and angry, all at the same time, that I was finding it hard to stand.

  “Thank you. Sorry to have been the bearer of bad news. Please, try to have a good night ma’am.”

  I closed the door and just stood there.

  As soon as I turned the lock, I fell to my knees and cried. I’d failed. All of my hard work, all of my hours of talking, listening, coaching, and mentoring, hadn't worked.

  None of it had fixed her.

  I’d tried everything that I could on her. Every exercise, every approach. For months she hadn't shown even one symptom of being depressed, but she kept coming, and I always allowed her to come in, even if we talked about everything other than her feelings.

  But I guess it was all an act because in the end, she had done the very thing that she had been considering doing the first time that she’d walked into my office.

  I sat there; doubting everything that I had ever said to any of my patients.

  I was supposed to be the best.

  How could something like this happen?

  The doorbell chimed again, in a hurry, I wiped my face and stood up.

  I was wondering if it was the police had forgotten to tell me something.

  But it wasn’t them.

  It was Blake…and Joel.

  What was Blake doing with my husband?

  Immediately an eerie feeling entered the atmosphere. It reminded me of why my husband needed to find another job, even if I had to take some time out of my busy schedule to do a few applications for him myself.

  I would do anything to get him away from Blake.

  “What is this?”

  “We went out for a few drinks, and Joel had one too many.”

  I was surprised to see Joel drunk, and leaning up against Blake.

  Joel rarely ever had a drink and when he did he never had enough to get drunk.

  What was that all about?

  And how did he end up going for drinks with Blake?

  Last I’d heard from him was that he was working late.

  “I didn’t want him to drive home, so I got his address off of his license and brought him myself.”

  I moved to the side and allowed Blake to help Joel inside. Joel mumbled a few drunken words as Blake secured him on the couch. He seemed to be talking about something that maybe I didn’t need to hear because Blake kept telling him to be quiet.

  Blake managed to show an act of kindness by pulling off Joel’s shoes and placing a pillow behind his head.

  See, he had a heart in there somewhere.

  It was just going to take a hell of a lot of convincing him to use it.

  Seconds later, Joel started to snore, and Blake turned in my direction.

  “He’s going to be out for a while. You might want to put a trash can beside him.”

  “What did he drink?”

  “A little bit of everything.”

  “Why aren’t you drunk?”

  “I don’t really drink.”

  “But you said that you both went out for drinks.”

  “I’ll have a drink, socially. But I’m far from an alcoholic. That stuff is bad for you.”

  “I’m surprised that he’s drunk. He rarely has over two drinks himself when he goes out.”

  “Well, maybe tonight he wanted to celebrate a little.”

  “For what?”

  Blake didn’t answer me.

  Instead, he smiled and
headed out the door.

  He stopped just before going down the first step.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Never better,” I lied.

  He bent down.

  “You dropped a rose.”

  He reached the rose towards me, but I shook my head, closed the door, and locked it in a hurry.

  That rose hadn't been there when I’d come home; which meant that someone was still watching me, and they were still leaving them for me to find for whatever reason.

  And they were leaving them more frequently, so it was only a matter of time before they showed their face.

  And I was scared just at the thought of what the truth was behind their actions.

  But something told me that soon I was going to find out why. I peeped through the blinds as Blake kept the rose and headed towards his car.

  In just a few seconds, Blake pulled off.

  My gut told me that something just wasn’t right.

  There was something that I wasn’t seeing.

  There was something that was getting past me, and I hadn't exactly noticed it.

  And it was driving me crazy!

  I looked over at Joel.

  The last time he had been drunk was the night that he had been let go from his job.

  He had drunk so much that he’d scared himself half to death the next day as he vomited for hours and felt as though he was near death for three days straight. He swore that he would never drink that much again, and he hadn't had more than two drinks since.

  So I was confused.

  Why would he have gone out and gotten drunk?

  What was going on with him?

  That was red flag number two.

  And he’d gone out with Blake.

  I definitely didn’t have a good feeling about that.

  Of course, he was unaware of how big of a mental case Blake actually was, but I didn’t trust him; especially not around my husband.

  I wasn’t sure of everything that he was capable of just yet but knowing that he was capable of taking someone’s life was more than enough.

  But Blake continued to show me just how smart he was.

  He’d read me and known that something was wrong with me in just a matter of minutes.

  I could see him analyzing me with his eyes as he looked at me to inspect my body language.

  I was sure that there was plenty about him that he wasn’t telling me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d had some kind of training in the field of psychology or something.