Dr Harper - Im a Therapist, and My Patient is Going to be the Next School Shooter

Im a Therapist, and My Patient is Going to be the Next School Shooter

6 Patient Files That Will Keep You Up at Night

Dr. Harper

Copyright

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2019 Dr. Harper

Book Cover Design by ebooklaunch.com

Story Illustrations: Sachi Amanze (Insta: @soliviaam)

Final Photo: Emmett Doane (Insta: @mothflowerss)

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0-578-45304-5

ISBN-13: 978-0-578-45304-0

DEDICATION

These patient files are dedicated to the readers of /r/nosleep. Thank you for bringing these stories to life.

Thank you to Sachi Amanze for creating the beautiful illustrations at the start of each patient file. Check out more of Sachis work on Instagram: @soliviaam

Thank you to Emmett Doane for creating the final photo that captured all of our hearts. Check out more of Emmetts work on Instagram: @mothflowerss

Thank you to the moderators and users of the Discord server. You made this such a fun experience.

And finally, a special thank you to my one and only

beta reader. I love you.

My Patients

In this folder, I have shared six of my most dangerous patient files. They are not necessarily in chronological order, but they are in the order you should read them.

At the end of each patient file, Ive included small notes to provide you with more details. I apologize in advance for all of my doodling. Its just how I remember some of the events and people involved.

Keep in mind, I chose these six patient files for one very important reason: They all lead up to Patient #220 the patient who ruined someones life forever.

School Shooter

PART ONE

Ive been treating Alex for almost a year now, but the vague threats started around Thanksgiving.

Hed fallen in love with a girl named Emma, and she didnt feel the same way. Typical high school heartbreak. The problem was, he wouldnt back off. He kept asking her out, and she kept rejecting him.

He ranted about her every week she didnt appreciate him, she led him on, her friends mocked him, etc.

I gently suggested that he give her some space, and he burst into a grandiose tirade about how all women are sluts.

This wasnt the first time hes gotten angry. Thats why his mom sent him to me in the first place. He had a history of outbursts and antisocial behavior, which led to other students alienating him.

But this was the first time I felt afraid of Alex. There was a frenzied look in his eyes, like he wasnt really in control anymore. And it wasnt just anger. It was elation.

When he came back the next week, he seemed much calmer, but that only made me more uncomfortable. I tried to casually comment that he seemed happier this week, and he told me that he had figured it all out.

I asked him what that meant, and his only response was a slight smirk.

You know that feeling in your gut, when you know something is terribly wrong, but you dont want to believe it? Thats the feeling that keeps me up at night.

A few months ago, Alex was just an agitated teenager who struggled with making friends. He carried a lot of rage about his dad abandoning his family, but people can work through that stuff. Thats what Im here for.

But now were in a whole different realm.

In last Wednesdays session, I did something Im not proud of. Something that could cost me my job. I asked the school receptionist to interrupt our session and bring Alex outside for a phone call.

The moment he left, I reached for his backpack and started digging. Regular stuff, like notebooks and binders. I flipped through the pages and found nothing but doodles and notes.

What was I doing?

I stuck my hand deeper into the bag and felt something. It was one of those old TI graphic calculators. I slid off the cover and tried my hardest to remember my Algebra days from high school.

PRGRM. Thats where we used to goof around.

The first program was called EMMA. I opened it up, heart pounding:

I pressed (1)

Emma, Christine, Sara, Chris. After that, as many as possible. Need 20+ for top 10.

Then I pressed (2)

Probably chemistry. Maybe the library, when shes on her free period with the other bitches.

And finally (3)

December 17. Right before Christmas, like Newtown. Ruins the holiday for everyone.

Hands sweating, I reached for my phone to take a photo. And thats when the door opened.

What are you doing? Alex lunged forward and grabbed the calculator.

Alex, we need to

You cant go through my stuff, he mumbled. Then he packed his bag and stormed out of the room.

Shit. I thought to myself. Shit, shit, shit.

I called the police first. They came over to interview me and said theyd take the report very seriously. They asked if I took photos of the calculator. Nope. Five more seconds would have made all the difference.

Then I talked with the school. They said theyd work with the police to investigate.

But last night, the police informed me that they had completed their investigation and found nothing of concern.

Of course they didnt. Alex knew Id report him, so he hid everything. Shit.

We have our next session tomorrow the last one before December 17.

He still hasnt canceled.

PART TWO

What would you do if someone told you about 9/11 the day before it happened? Or Newtown? Or Vegas?

How would you stop it, without sounding like a raving lunatic?

Maybe youd suggest I contact Alexs mom. I tried, and she told me to back off or shed get a restraining order.

Maybe youd suggest that Im terrible at my job, and that I should refer him to someone else. I dont blame you. Just wait until you hear about my other patients.

Maybe youd suggest a 5150 (involuntary hospitalization). Probably the best idea, but Im a control freak, and I think I know more about Alex than anyone could learn in 72 hours. Involuntary anything would only worsen his state.

Maybe youd suggest I kill him. Ill be honest, it crossed my mind. Not my proudest moment.

Maybe youd suggest I stay home today, but I couldnt do it. I couldnt be the next therapist or neighbor or friend in the news, reminiscing about all the warning signs, and how the tragedy could have been prevented.

Not when kids were in danger.

To the schools credit, they hired two armed resource officers, and both of them stood outside my office while Alex and I sat down for our session.

Given the circumstances, I actually couldnt have felt more relaxed. They already patted him down and took his bag. Plus, every second that Alex spent in here meant he wasnt out there.

Alex, I began. We need to talk about what happened last week.

His head was down and he didnt speak.

You didnt cancel our session, I said. Your mom didnt even want you here, but you still came. I have to assume that means youre having second thoughts?

Alex looked up, but didnt make eye contact. Im not saying anything about last week, he said. I know you probably set up cameras.

My stomach turned. He wasnt wrong.

Okay, I said. What if we talk about something else then?

Like what?

I bit my lip and decided to go for it. Your dad.

Finally, his eyes met mine. They were bloodshot, wide, and exhausted.

What about him?

He left a long time ago, Alex, I said. But I think the pain still lives inside you.