My Patient

Rory

 I was sitting in my office at my desk, waiting for 5 pm to roll around for my next patient. Today is my first day with a new patient, Rory Brown. The ticking of the clock was all I could hear. I was full of anticipation.

Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door.

"Come in," I called out, waiting for the door to open. And it did.

The man walked in, his long black hair dangling down to his midriff. He was way taller than me. His shirt was a band shirt I recognized, Cannibal Corpse. He seemed like the metalhead type of guy. I admit I was attracted to him, but he was my patient.

"Hi, Rory, nice to meet you." I extend my hand out to him with a friendly smile.

"Hey," He shook my hand before letting go and sitting in the chair by the front of my desk.

I examined him more. He had sharp features and dark circles under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep, which was part of why he was here. His exposed muscular arms were worth fawning over. They were covered with tattoos.

"So, you're having trouble sleeping?" I asked as I opened my notepad and clicked my pen.

"Yeah, I get bad dreams and sleep paralysis. It started a few months ago. I made an appointment after I had a terrible night." He leaned back in his chair. His hands were fidgeting with his hair a lot. He was either nervous or just restless.

"Can you tell me about that night?" I write things down in my notepad.

"It was the middle of the night. I was lying in my bed, trying to sleep. I drifted off, but then I couldn't move at all." Rory shifted a bit. He seemed a little tense talking about it.

It was a long session, but they usually were. I checked the time, and it was 6 pm. Our session was over.

"Well, Rorry, I'll see you next Thursday." I smiled up at him.

"See you," Rory smiled and left my office.

Weeks passed, and Rory came every Thursday on the dot. I was surprised by how on time he always was. Sometimes, it felt like he would move closer, trying to touch me. But never fully committing. He would ask personal questions off the topic of what we were talking about previously. At times it felt like he was trying to impress me. He'd wear his hair up, clean up his face, etc.

It wasn't unusual. Patients who feel comfortable with me have had some sort of crush on me. I knew their secrets, and I understood them.

Since Rory came to me for therapy, patients have told me how they felt they were being followed or watched. Of course, I reassured them it was in their head. I always brushed it off, though. Most of them had mental issues.

The clock finally hit 9 pm. It was time for me to go home. The sun was down as I left my office building. Nobody was out besides me and a few other people.

As I was walking home, I felt as if someone was following me. Now and again, I'd check behind me but always found nothing. It was cold and dark. I couldn't see much. Usually, when I walked home, I felt fine, but something about this time felt off.

Suddenly, I hear something clatter behind me. I whipped my head around, and there was nothing. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. I quickened my pace and finally made it to my apartment building. The dim light buzzing in the lobby was the only light source to help inside.

Opening the door, a wave of relief washed over me. I felt safe. My heartbeat slowed down as I took deep breaths.

"I must be imagining things..." I mutter to myself and head to the stairs.

Thursday came around again, and I was in my office. 5 pm on the dot, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I called out. The door opened, and Rory walked in.