r/nosleep | Reddit Horror Stories • Collection

Pt.3 I help people commit suicide, but they have to convince me to do it first.

In response to my last case, I was asked if I ever fear for my life while allowing these often perilous strangers into my home. The short answer is yes, but I take precautions. I always carry a gun, but I did encounter several individuals who attempted to harm me towards the beginning of all of this. Now I explicitly state in the phone interview that I will be armed throughout the in-person session. Things have gone smoothly since then, all things considered. I did suspend this rule once following the request of a client, but only after she made it clear that I would bind her with zip ties. In retrospect, I may have been in the most danger in that situation... but that's a story for another day.

Instead, today I'd like to recount the story of a client who did not make me fear for the loss of my life, but rather made me fear for my existence, if that makes sense. I've heard a lot of frightening tales, leaving me essentially desensitized to horror, but something about his story chilled me to the bone. I estimate that I had him on my couch approximately a year ago.

When I met him in my doorway, the first thing I noticed was his complete lack of facial expression. Typically, I am met with at least an instinctual smile as I open my door, despite the grim circumstances. I was surprised, but not entirely put off by this, so I greeted him and stepped aside to allow him to enter. As he passed me, his left side thumped into the door frame. It didn't seem like it hurt him much, though, so I brushed it off.

"If you want, you can remove your coat and set your things down by the couch," I offered.

His face remained blank as he replied, "thanks for the offer, but I think I'll keep my coat on for now."

As we made our way to the living room, I observed that he used a cane. He walked slowly with a pronounced limp. Being a fairly quick walker myself, I reduced the speed of my own pace a bit. When he reached the couch, he rested his cane against it before stretching his right arm back to ease himself onto the cushion. I positioned myself in my usual chair to face him.

The man settled into the couch before asking, "so, should I start explaining why I'm here?"

"Yes, sir, but first there is the matter of your payment to settle," I answered.

He nodded. "Right, yes. I'm sorry, my memory isn't what it used to be."

The man was certainly older than me, perhaps in his fifties, but did not strike me to be of an age at which the memory starts to fade significantly. He reached into his right pocket to reveal a wad of cash bundled with a rubber band, and I procured the payment. "Thank you. You may start whenever you are ready."

"From the looks of me, I'm guessing you can infer that I'm not completely well," he began. "A couple of years ago, I had a major stroke. I've never been a science guy myself, so I didn't really understand what occurs when one has a stroke. Basically, a blood clot lodged in my brain and cut off oxygen, which feeds the brain and gives it the ability to perform its necessary tasks. The stroke struck the right side of my brain, manifesting in physical deficits in the left side of my body. It's also changed my ability to remember things, or just think in general."

I nodded in response.

The man ran a finger along the length of his cane. "Now, I don't want you to think that I'm here simply because I had a stroke. I actually gained a lot of perspective after it happened. I'm here for an entirely different reason."

I leaned toward him. "Oh? Why are you here, then?"

"Left neglect," he stated simply.