I'm a Therapist, and My Patient Is in Love With a Pedophile- 6 Patient Files From Prison

by Dr Harper

  “Purging?”

  “You saw what she did to Arthur, after he claimed he was ‘reformed’. And then there was that drug addict kid, Don. He had plenty of drug connections, so she was grooming him to replace Bernard. But he was having none of it — so he killed the kid.”

  “And Chase…” I pondered out loud. “He was supposed to replace you.”

  “Yes,” said Tony. “It was only a matter of time.”

  “How did you get involved in the first place?” I asked.

  “Extortion,” he said. “After I went public about SlapDot, they put me in here to shut me up. And then they—”

  He let out a pained sigh.

  “It’s okay, Tony.” I touched his arm sling gently. “Take your time.”

  Tony cleared his throat. “James was never supposed to get caught in the middle of this. But they… They kidnapped him. And used him as leverage.”

  “Leverage?”

  He hung his head. “They promised not to sell him, as long as I did what they said.”

  “Jesus, Tony… I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t know what else to say.

  If we were going to fight this, we would need help from the outside.

  ◆◆◆

  “Zach.”

  I gave him a quick hug and sat down.

  He glanced at the bandage on my ear. “Elliot, what happened…?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Listen, I have something big for you. There’s a pedophile ring—”

  “Did you take the OraQuick test?” asked Zach, ignoring me. “Are you taking meds?”

  I stared at him. “Did you hear what I just said? Zach, there’s a pedophile ring operating out of this prison.”

  He looked at me with a mix of pity and apprehension.

  “Elliot…”

  I gave him an irritable sigh. “When the fuck are you going to start taking me seriously?”

  “I do take you seriously!” he protested. “I’m serious about your safety and health.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about my health!” I snapped. “There are kids being abused and murdered!”

  He shook his head and pushed his chair back. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” I leaned forward. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore!” He threw his arms up in the air. “First, you got HIV from a patient, then you seem to be missing an ear, and now you’re telling me there’s a pedophile ring in prison? For Christ’s sake, Elliot, you’re a therapist! Doesn’t this pattern concern you?”

  “What pattern?” I demanded.

  “These outlandish stories!” he said in exasperation. “And it’s not like this is the first time. Your entire court case was centered around blaming a nonexistent cult for kidnapping your assistant—”

  “I knew it!” I slammed the table. “I knew you never believed me. You haven’t been looking for Noah at all, have you?”

  He took a deep breath and looked down. “No. I haven’t.”

  I felt my blood boiling. “You’re a shit friend and a shit human being.”

  “Elliot, there’s a psychiatrist in this prison,” he said anxiously. “You should talk with her.”

  “SHE’S THE ONE—” I lowered my voice. “She’s the one running the fucking pedophile ring!”

  Zach shook his head sadly and stood up from his chair.

  I wanted to jump across the table and attack him, but there were kids in danger, and that was all I cared about anymore.

  “Zach, you don’t have to believe me, but look up Tony Singer, okay?” I said. “He’s my cellmate, and his son was taken by this pedophile ring.”

  Zach turned around and frowned. “Tony Singer, from the SlapDot bombing?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

  “Yes it is!” I said. “Just look into his son.”

  “No, I mean, it’s not possible that he’s your cellmate.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I covered the SlapDot story,” said Zach “Tony Singer was diagnosed with PTSD. He was stuck in denial and invented those conspiracies as a way to cope with his grief. He ended up in a mental hospital on the West Coast.”

  “Well, he must have been moved to this prison.”

  “No, he’s out now. He does TED Talks about PTSD.” Zach turned to leave. “Whoever your cellmate is, he’s not Tony Singer.”

  PART THREE

  The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my own choking.

  It took me another moment to realize that Tony’s hand was locked tight around my neck.

  “Tony!” I gasped.

  His eyes were closed, like he was asleep, but his grip got tighter until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

  “Tony!” I choked again, struggling to get away from him. “Tony, stop!”

  I threw one last desperate punch at his jaw, and his eyes finally opened.

  He looked at me for a second, then his hand, and then released his grip.

  “What the fuck, Tony?” I massaged my neck.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Must have been a nightmare.”

  “Some nightmare…” I grumbled. “Jesus.”

  But then I took a second look, and saw that his arm sling was cast aside next to the bed.

  “Tony,” I said. “Your sling — why’d you take it off?”

  He got a horrible look of dread on his face. Then he hurried over to the sling and secured his left arm back inside of it.

  “Chem trails…” he muttered under his breath. “Fucking chem trails.”

  I was about to start telling him that mind-control chem trails weren’t real, but then I took another glance at his hand and realized something…

  My heart started to race.

  Could it be possible?

  ◆◆◆

  While Tony was out getting some fresh air, I rummaged through his belongings on the desk.

  Nothing but crossword puzzles and angry letters to victims and families of various mass tragedies.

  Next, I started tearing apart his bed. Nothing under the pillows, the bed, or inside the sheets.

  “Doc? What are you doing?”

  I jumped when I saw Tony at the cell door.

  “Cleaning,” I said.

  “No you’re not.” He scanned the room. “You’re looking through my stuff.”

  I swallowed, and prepared to confront him with my bizarre theory.

  “Is — Is your real name Richard Scott?”

  “Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m Tony Singer.”

  “Tony Singer is a famous public speaker,” I said. “He’s not in prison. But Richard Scott is.”

  Tony’s face started going red. “I already told you, he’s in cell block B!”

  “Did you strangle your own son?”

  “SHUT UP!” he shouted. “SHUT UP!”

  He put his hands over his ears like a child.

  “I’m not saying you did it on purpose!” I said. “What if it was an accident?”

  He slowly lowered his hands and looked at me. “What do you mean?”

  “You attacked me this morning,” I said.

  “It was a nightmare.”

  “No,” I said. “You were sound asleep, but your hand was wide awake. Like it had a mind of its own.”

  He looked at his left arm in the sling and stared at it nervously.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Have you ever heard of Alien Hand Syndrome?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “It’s a very unusual condition where the patient’s hand seems to be acting on its own. Even when you’re conscious, you may find it doing things without your permission.”

  “No,” he mumbled again. “I’m Tony Singer.”

  “What if you’re not?” I said. “What if you’re Richard Scott, but you took on this Tony Singer identity because you couldn’t cope with what happened to your son? What if those mind-contro
lling chem trails are actually a rare psychological disorder?”

  “Fuck off, doc.” He stepped closer to me. “Stop playing therapist with me. I’m not your patient.”

  “Richard, we can work through that trauma. I can help you see that it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I said, FUCK. OFF.”

  “Richard—”

  “STOP CALLING ME RICHARD!” He lunged at me. “I’M TONY SINGER, AND THE SLAPDOT BOMBING WAS STAGED. THEY MADE THE WHOLE THING UP! THEN THEY KIDNAPPED MY SON AND PUT HIM IN A PEDO RING! “

  “Your son is gone.” I pulled him into a tight hug as he tried to punch me. “Dr. Zhang is using your grief to extort you over a son who is already gone.”

  “NO!”

  “You’re saving these boys to make up for your son,” I continued. “You’re doing something good, but Dr. Zhang is using you. That’s what she does. She seeks out patients that she can exploit.”

  “NO!” he screamed, trying to get away. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME.”

  But I held him tighter, and began repeating the same words, over and over:

  “It’s okay, Richard. It’s okay. You didn’t mean to. You had no control.”

  Finally, he stopped struggling and collapsed onto my shoulders with a gut-wrenching cry.

  We stayed like that for a long time, until I realized something very concerning.

  “Wait a minute…” I pulled away. “If you’re Richard Scott — the disposer — then who’s the copy cat?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Who’s the one brainwashing kids and whispering into my ear in solitary? It wasn’t you, so who was it?”

  Tony — or Richard — let out a sigh and scratched his head.

  “I don’t know who he is, but I’ve heard Bernard talking about him. Apparently he absorbs personalities like a sponge, based on psychological profiles provided by Zhang. Bernard said he’s dangerous as hell.”

  “Dangerous?” I repeated. “How?”

  “Because he doesn’t just copy them. He believes he is them. I’ll never forget what Bernard said about him — gave me the fucking spooks.”

  “What did he say?” I pressed.

  Richard went quiet for a second, and then said:

  “If you gave this freak a biography on Osama Bin Laden, he’d try to bring down the Freedom Tower.”

  ◆◆◆

  “HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!”

  I bolted out of bed to see Richard slamming on the cell door.

  Within seconds, Pickowitz appeared at our cell door.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  “Harper is trying to turn me against Dr. Zhang!” Richard shouted. “He’s planning to—”

  “What the fuck, Richard?” I shouted.

  Pickowitz grabbed the baton from his belt. “On the ground. Both of you.”

  We did as he said. He entered the cell and restrained us.

  “Alright, boys. Come with me. I think Dr. Zhang is still here.”

  I groaned as we both stood up and followed him to her office.

  When we arrived, Dr. Zhang was already standing in the doorway.

  “You can take off the handcuffs, Pickowitz…” she spoke softly.

  “Are you sure?” said Pickowitz. “Tinfoil said something about Harper plotting against you.”

  Dr. Zhang looked over to me with an amused smile.

  “Hmmm… I can’t say that I’m surprised.” Then she turned back to Pickowitz. “But I prefer to treat my patients without restraints.”

  He nodded and removed the handcuffs.

  “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Pickowitz.” Dr. Zhang smiled again and motioned for both of us to come in.

  We took seats at opposite ends of the couch, and Richard got started immediately.

  “Harper is trying to turn me against you! But I swear, I’ve been doing everything you said. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. I’ve been reporting back to the guards. Please—” He begged. “Please, just don’t hurt James.”

  “James isn’t your son,” I hissed back. “She has no leverage over you!”

  “Mr. Harper…” Dr. Zhang was twirling the key around her neck. “It’s become increasingly clear that you are a danger to the inmates of this prison. Fortunately, Tony here is—”

  “His name is Richard,” I said, and then repeated: “Richard.”

  “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” Richard jumped up. “HE KEEPS CALLING ME RICHARD. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM!”

  “I know, Tony, my dear…” she said, feigning sympathy. “Mr. Harper is a liar and a very bad man.”

  “Your name is RICHARD.” I stood up as well. “And until you face that fact, you’re going to be unhappy and confused—”

  “FUCK OFF, HARPER!”

  He charged at me, and the two of us began brawling.

  “That’s enough!” Dr. Zhang hurried over to us. “Stop it right now, or you’ll both be going to solitary.”

  I held Richard on the ground and hit him repeatedly in the stomach. Then he rolled me over and started punching me.

  “ENOUGH!”

  Dr. Zhang tried to pull him off me, but he kicked her in the face — hard. She let out a cry and fell to the ground, and then Richard jumped on top of her.

  “PICKOWITZ!” she shouted.

  Pickowitz rushed into the room and yanked Richard away from Dr. Zhang.

  “FUCK ALL OF YOU!” Richard screamed. “THE SLAPDOT BOMBING NEVER HAPPENED. IT’S ALL PART OF THEIR PLAN TO CONTROL US!”

  “Get him OUT!” said Dr. Zhang, covering her bloodied nose. “I need to get some cotton balls from the infirmary.”

  Richard turned to me and yelled one last time:

  “THE SLAPDOT BOMBING NEVER HAPPENED!”

  Then he mouthed “good luck” and spat on my legs.

  Pickowitz grabbed him and marched him out of the room.

  “You.” Dr. Zhang glowered at me. “Don’t you go anywhere.”

  She trailed Pickowitz and Richard out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

  Heart racing, I reached between my legs where Richard had spat.

  And there it was — exactly as planned:

  The key from Dr. Zhang’s necklace.

  End of Patient File: The Snake

  Company Retreat: The Snake

  Finally, we heard sirens wailing in the distance.

  “Noah, can you go wave them down?” I asked. “And see if they have a towel to dry him off?”

  “Sure,” said Noah, waving to James. “Be right back, buddy!”

  While we waited for Noah and the police, I knelt down next to James.

  “James, are there any other animals you want to tell me about?”

  He glanced nervously in Noah’s direction.

  “He’ll be back in a minute,” I said reassuringly. “But you can trust me. I just want to make sure all of the animals get punished for hurting you and your friends.”

  He looked up. “You’re going to punish them?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I promise.”

  He kicked a bit of sand around, and then mumbled: “The snake.”

  “What did you say?” I asked. “Snake?”

  “Yes.” He hung his head. “She says that my mom hates me. She says that my mom will never come look for me because I am a sllll—ut. What does that mean?”

  I cringed as he sounded out the word.

  “She was lying,” I said quickly, but then I frowned. “Wait a minute, the snake is a girl? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he said. “She’s in charge of them all. She bosses them around, and she yells at them.”

  “Is she mad?”

  “Really mad,” he said. “Boys keep running away, and she thinks an animal is helping them.”

  “James, did an animal help you escape?”

  He nodded. “The dragon.”

  I could see Noah and a police officer approaching.

  “The one who burns boys?
” I said urgently.

  “He woke me up,” said James. “He put this shirt on me and told me to run. And he told me not to trust—”

  “What have we got here, little guy?” The police officer ducked under the dock with us.

  “Not to trust who?” I pressed James.

  “Let’s get you home,” said the policeman, wrapping a towel around James. “Your parents were worried sick.”

  “He has parents?” I asked.

  “Yep. Name is James Allen,” said the officer. “His parents filed a missing persons report this afternoon. Lost him in the storm.”

  “Aren’t you excited to go home?” Noah bent down and smiled at James.

  “Noah,” I said. “I think we should stay with him.”

  “Not to worry,” said the officer. “He’ll be safe with me. Come on, James, let’s get you home to your family.”

  “Can you give us their contact information?” I asked. “I’m a therapist, and he’s told us some very concerning stories. I’d like to just follow up, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” said the police officer. “His parents said they would love a chance to thank you in person.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  He scrolled through his phone and shared the number with me. I typed it out in my phone as “James - Parents” and set a reminder to call them later.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I watched as Noah said his goodbyes and briefly concluded the balloon story. For some reason, I really didn’t feel comfortable letting James leave our sight, but that was probably just my paranoid side coming out. Plus, later I would be able to share all of my concerns with his parents.

  We waved as James walked away with the police officer, and he waved back. It was good to see him smiling again. Before long, the two of them disappeared from sight.

  Then it was just Noah and I, standing beneath the dripping dock. It was getting pretty dark, but at least the rain was starting to slow down.

  “He was such a sweet kid,” said Noah quietly. “I really liked him.”

  “He liked you too,” I said. “You almost became a dad tonight.”

  Noah laughed. “I would have liked that.”

  “You’re a natural,” I said. “Someday, you’re going to be an incredible father.”