# "I'm a therapist. My client won't stop talking about Mr. Grin" Creepypasta

An episode of [CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1492008134), 23 May 2025, 35 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/66233760/i_m_a_therapist_my_client_won_t_stop_talking_about_mr_grin_creepypasta.mp3

LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO- SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd... iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast... CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Saint Zander Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS- ►"Good Places to Start"- • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep web" ... ►"Personal Favourites"- • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher, and... ►"Written by me"- • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creepypasta ►"Long Stories"- • Long Stories FOLLOW ME ON- ►Twitter: / creeps_mcpasta ►Instagram: / creepsmcpasta ►Twitch: / creepsmcpasta ►Facebook: / creepsmcpasta CREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪ ►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪ ►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪ ►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪ This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only

## Transcript

[0:01] Speaker 1: His voice broke the silence between us. There's actually something
[0:07] Speaker 1: I've been hiding from you. I looked up from the notepader,
[0:12] Speaker 1: my knee, my pen resting between my fingers. He sat
[0:16] Speaker 1: with his spine drawn inward, shoulders slightly collapsed toward each other,
[0:21] Speaker 1: and palms pressed flat against the tops of his thighs,
[0:25] Speaker 1: a man always trying to make himself smaller. His eyes,
[0:30] Speaker 1: shadowed by fatigue, were fixed on something on the ground.
[0:35] Speaker 1: I didn't say anything right away. I'd learned over time
[0:39] Speaker 1: that interruptions could break fragile moments like these. I'd been
[0:44] Speaker 1: his therapist for a little over a year. From the
[0:48] Speaker 1: very first session, I had sensed that his pain ran
[0:51] Speaker 1: deeper than most. He had peeled it back slowly, as
[0:55] Speaker 1: if uncertain whether it was even worth sharing. In that time,
[1:00] Speaker 1: I'd come to know him as someone who had endured
[1:02] Speaker 1: a kind of persistent misfortune that no rational explanation could
[1:07] Speaker 1: account for. The world, it seemed, had made a project
[1:12] Speaker 1: out of breaking him. I leaned back slightly in my chair,
[1:18] Speaker 1: careful not to make the movement abrupt. The window beside
[1:22] Speaker 1: us caught a thin wash of afternoon light spilling across
[1:25] Speaker 1: the rug between us. I folded my hands and asked,
[1:30] Speaker 1: keeping my voice low, what is it that you've been
[1:34] Speaker 1: holding back? He shifted in his seat, fingers tapping against
[1:40] Speaker 1: his knee. Whatever it was, it was hard for him
[1:44] Speaker 1: to say, but something had changed. There was a weight
[1:49] Speaker 1: to the moment, attention in the room that hadn't been
[1:52] Speaker 1: there before. I've been able to see him for a
[1:56] Speaker 1: long time, he said, But I I didn't tell you
[2:00] Speaker 1: because I thought you'd think it meant I was really
[2:03] Speaker 1: losing it. I didn't want you to think I was crazy.
[2:09] Speaker 1: There was a brief pause. Then his name is mister Grin. Oh, well,
[2:16] Speaker 1: that's what I call him. I stayed quiet and nodded
[2:21] Speaker 1: slowly to encourage him. There had been no mention of
[2:25] Speaker 1: him before, no allusions to a stalker or a delusion
[2:29] Speaker 1: this specific. I was certain of it. There was a
[2:33] Speaker 1: different presence in the room now, one shaped by the
[2:37] Speaker 1: tension in his voice and the stillness in his eyes.
[2:40] Speaker 1: And I remember thinking, as he kept his gaze averted
[2:44] Speaker 1: and began to speak again, that whatever this was, whatever
[2:48] Speaker 1: mister Grinn meant to him, it had been festering for decades.
[2:55] Speaker 1: It started the night my mother died, he said, I
[2:59] Speaker 1: was sitting in the waiting area with my father. He
[3:04] Speaker 1: took a shallow breath and kept his gaze down. There
[3:08] Speaker 1: were two vending machines in the hallway and a payphone
[3:11] Speaker 1: across from them. My father and I were just waiting
[3:15] Speaker 1: for them to tell us. I already knew though she
[3:20] Speaker 1: had been out of it for days. He paused for
[3:24] Speaker 1: a moment and scratched at the skin on his forearm
[3:27] Speaker 1: through the fabric of his jacket. When the nurse came
[3:31] Speaker 1: out and said it, I don't know. I guess I
[3:36] Speaker 1: didn't cry. I just sort of sat there. She gave
[3:40] Speaker 1: me this little squeeze on the shoulder and walked away.
[3:44] Speaker 1: My father told me to stay still while he finished
[3:47] Speaker 1: something up, and that everything is going to be okay.
[3:52] Speaker 1: I remember going outside. I couldn't breathe inside anymore. I
[3:57] Speaker 1: went at the side entrance. There was a meta bench
[4:00] Speaker 1: near the ambulance bay. That's when I saw him. His
[4:08] Speaker 1: voice cracked faintly when he said it. I leaned forward
[4:12] Speaker 1: just slightly. There was a fence that ran along the
[4:15] Speaker 1: edge of the lot, past it with trees, but the
[4:19] Speaker 1: hospital kept a floodlight above the utility building, so it
[4:23] Speaker 1: was never completely dark out there. The light was flickering
[4:27] Speaker 1: that night, you know when it doesn't fully cut out,
[4:30] Speaker 1: just buzzes and dims. That's how it was. He was
[4:37] Speaker 1: standing there, just beyond the reach of the light. I
[4:41] Speaker 1: thought maybe he was a janitor or a security guy.
[4:44] Speaker 1: But he wasn't wearing a badge. Just this pale white
[4:48] Speaker 1: jumper looked soft, almost fleece. The arms were long, they
[4:54] Speaker 1: hung past his waist, almost to the tops of his knees.
[4:58] Speaker 1: His shoulders were dropped but curved forward, like his back
[5:03] Speaker 1: was pulling inward. I couldn't see much of his face
[5:07] Speaker 1: at first, the light was behind him, but there was
[5:11] Speaker 1: this grin I guess. The corners of his mouth stretched
[5:16] Speaker 1: nearly to the side of his cheeks. His skin had
[5:20] Speaker 1: these lines carved in deep, like he'd been smiling for years,
[5:24] Speaker 1: and his face had just given up trying to do
[5:26] Speaker 1: anything else. He lifted his hand briefly and touched the
[5:31] Speaker 1: corner of his own mouth, drawing an invisible shape in
[5:35] Speaker 1: the form of a smile. Then his hand fell back
[5:38] Speaker 1: into his lap. I looked away for a second. I
[5:44] Speaker 1: think I was wiping my eyes, or maybe just trying
[5:46] Speaker 1: to shake it off, but When I looked back, he
[5:51] Speaker 1: was gone. I hadn't slept. My mom had just died.
[5:56] Speaker 1: I didn't even mention it to the nurses or anyone.
[5:59] Speaker 1: I just went back inside to my father and left.
[6:06] Speaker 1: He raised his head slowly and met my eyes for
[6:09] Speaker 1: the first time since he started talking. A strange man, right,
[6:15] Speaker 1: that's all. But then I saw him again. The next
[6:21] Speaker 1: time it happened was after my father passed, but the
[6:24] Speaker 1: time after that would come around a decade later, he said,
[6:29] Speaker 1: his voice now steadier. It was a few months after
[6:33] Speaker 1: I'd started college. I'd worked my butt off to get in,
[6:37] Speaker 1: had no back up plan. Then out of nowhere, I
[6:41] Speaker 1: got this notice from the administration office saying my financial
[6:45] Speaker 1: aid had been revoked. There was a discrepancy in some paperwork.
[6:50] Speaker 1: They said it was a clerical error. I remember thinking,
[6:54] Speaker 1: no one makes that kind of mistake, at least not
[6:57] Speaker 1: by accident. He scratched the inside of his wrist again
[7:02] Speaker 1: and blinked, But he wasn't really with me in the
[7:05] Speaker 1: office any more. That night, I couldn't sleep. I was
[7:11] Speaker 1: up reading emails, trying to figure out who to contact.
[7:16] Speaker 1: My roommate was passed out headphones on, snoring. I got
[7:21] Speaker 1: up and walked over to the window my dorm overlooked
[7:25] Speaker 1: the quad, and there he was, his voice tropped, standing
[7:33] Speaker 1: right in the middle of it, in the dark, arms
[7:36] Speaker 1: at his side, just the same as he had looked
[7:40] Speaker 1: all those years ago, almost glowing in the moonlight. I
[7:45] Speaker 1: didn't know what to think at the time. I hadn't
[7:48] Speaker 1: seen him since I was a kid. I thought he
[7:50] Speaker 1: was just something like a kid's delusion. He didn't move,
[7:56] Speaker 1: he said, didn't do much of anything, just watched. I
[8:01] Speaker 1: closed the blinds and sat back in my bed, told
[8:05] Speaker 1: myself I was just tired, like I always did. His
[8:10] Speaker 1: throat bob slightly as he swallowed. His eyes were glassy now,
[8:15] Speaker 1: though no tears came. It kept happening every time something
[8:22] Speaker 1: fell apart. When my roommates stole from me, cleaned me out,
[8:26] Speaker 1: and vanished overnight, I came home and found him standing
[8:30] Speaker 1: at the end of the hallway outside my dorm room.
[8:34] Speaker 1: He was closer than I could see more of him.
[8:40] Speaker 1: His hands moved to his temples, pressing gently. He's been
[8:44] Speaker 1: there through everything. When I got fired for my first
[8:48] Speaker 1: real job, when my girlfriend left me, when I couldn't
[8:51] Speaker 1: pay rent any more and had to sleep in my
[8:53] Speaker 1: car for two weeks, always watching as these things were happening.
[9:00] Speaker 1: I hadn't even noticed he'd been getting closer each time.
[9:05] Speaker 1: I opened my mouth to finally speak, but he beat
[9:09] Speaker 1: me to it. I don't know how long I can
[9:13] Speaker 1: keep talking. I have to say this before I lose
[9:16] Speaker 1: my nerve. If I think too much about it, I
[9:19] Speaker 1: won't finish. I'll back out, and then he'll keep eating
[9:24] Speaker 1: at me. He leaned back in the chair and stared
[9:30] Speaker 1: toward the floor for several seconds, then reached slowly into
[9:35] Speaker 1: the front pocket of his coat. He pulled out his
[9:38] Speaker 1: phone with a slow, hesitant motion. His fingers trembled faintly
[9:44] Speaker 1: as he unlocked it and tapped through the screen. Here,
[9:49] Speaker 1: he said, I filmed him last night for you. He
[9:55] Speaker 1: turned the screen toward me and press play. The footage
[10:01] Speaker 1: began with the camera pointed toward the carpet. The audio
[10:05] Speaker 1: picked up his shallow breathing, occasional rustling, and the faint
[10:09] Speaker 1: sound of floorboards creaking under foot. It was dark, with
[10:14] Speaker 1: the glow from the digital clock provided a faint illumination.
[10:19] Speaker 1: The video shifted as he raised the phone. It panned
[10:23] Speaker 1: up and centered on a doorway, with the edges of
[10:25] Speaker 1: the frame slightly out of focus. He said nothing while
[10:30] Speaker 1: it played, just watched me and my reaction. When the
[10:36] Speaker 1: video ended, I glanced back at him. He leaned forward
[10:41] Speaker 1: and whispered, that's where he stands every night. He doesn't
[10:48] Speaker 1: sharpen video. But I see him. I swear to you,
[10:52] Speaker 1: I see him. He had a kind of pleading beneath
[10:57] Speaker 1: the exhaustion of his expression. He wasn't trying to convince me.
[11:02] Speaker 1: He wasn't even looking for validation. Have you ever considered that,
[11:08] Speaker 1: mister grim might be a kind of projection, a figure
[11:12] Speaker 1: shaped by everything you've been through, your grief, your isolation,
[11:17] Speaker 1: maybe something your mind created to contain the pain. His
[11:22] Speaker 1: jaw tightened. It wasn't an angry reaction, but something deeper.
[11:29] Speaker 1: His fingers clenched the edge of his chair. He looked
[11:32] Speaker 1: down and gave a small, sharp shake of his head.
[11:37] Speaker 1: I've taken pills, he said, risperidone, halloparidol, quatiepine for years,
[11:44] Speaker 1: off and on. I've seen neurologists, psychiatrists. I even stayed
[11:49] Speaker 1: in a clinic of state for a month. Nothing touches him,
[11:54] Speaker 1: he stays. His voice had gone thin, with a breathless quality,
[12:02] Speaker 1: as if the words were trying to outrun something behind them.
[12:06] Speaker 1: I thought about suggesting another specialist, someone who could reevaluate
[12:10] Speaker 1: his medication regimen, but before I could speak, his voice
[12:16] Speaker 1: broke through again, lower now uncertain, would you come over tonight,
[12:24] Speaker 1: he asked, just for a bit, please. The words sounded
[12:31] Speaker 1: awkward coming from him, as if he'd rehearse them and
[12:34] Speaker 1: was still unsure whether he should be saying them out loud.
[12:38] Speaker 1: He rubbed the side of his neck, eyes fixed on
[12:41] Speaker 1: the carpet. I haven't had anyone stay over in years,
[12:46] Speaker 1: he continued. I don't even really talk to anyone any
[12:50] Speaker 1: more outside of here. I just I don't want to
[12:54] Speaker 1: be alone tonight. I know he'll come. I always know
[12:59] Speaker 1: when he's going to I hesitated. Every part of my
[13:05] Speaker 1: training told me this wasn't appropriate. It blurred boundaries and
[13:10] Speaker 1: created complications. I had spent a career keeping my clients
[13:14] Speaker 1: at a careful distance for this exact reason. But the
[13:19] Speaker 1: expression on his face disarmed me. He looked like he'd surrendered.
[13:25] Speaker 1: I nodded slowly. All right, I said, but just for
[13:31] Speaker 1: a few hours. He didn't thank me. He just looked away.
[13:38] Speaker 1: And I knew he hadn't been expecting me to say yes.
[13:48] Speaker 1: His building sat wedge between a shuttered laundromat and a
[13:51] Speaker 1: currency exchange that I lost half the letters on its sign.
[13:55] Speaker 1: The sun had started to sink behind the skyline, casting
[13:59] Speaker 1: along his streaks across the narrow sidewalk. I buzzed this unit,
[14:05] Speaker 1: and the door clicked open before I could step back. Oh,
[14:09] Speaker 1: come in, he said, stepping aside. The space was small.
[14:15] Speaker 1: The smell of dust and paper filled the air. The
[14:18] Speaker 1: blinds were halfway drawn, casting broken shadows across a threadbare
[14:22] Speaker 1: rug and a sagging love seat. There were stacks of
[14:26] Speaker 1: bucks on the floor. He gestured to the kitchen table
[14:30] Speaker 1: and we sat. He had already brewed tea, though I
[14:36] Speaker 1: could tell from the way he moved that he didn't
[14:38] Speaker 1: usually make it for more than one. We sat quietly
[14:42] Speaker 1: at first, sipping from mismatched mugs. After some small talk,
[14:48] Speaker 1: something about the vulnerability of this situation made me talk
[14:52] Speaker 1: about my own problems. I moved into a new place
[14:56] Speaker 1: a few months ago, I said, after that divorce, it's quiet,
[15:02] Speaker 1: which I thought i'd want, But now it's there all
[15:06] Speaker 1: the time. I don't know meals feel wrong. I still
[15:11] Speaker 1: find myself reaching for her side of the bed in
[15:13] Speaker 1: the morning. He looked up, surprised. I never thought about
[15:19] Speaker 1: you having stuff going on, he said. I guess I
[15:23] Speaker 1: always pictured you going home and just, I don't know,
[15:27] Speaker 1: being fine. We both laughed. He leaned forward a little.
[15:35] Speaker 1: You know, I feel guilty sometimes I sit here and
[15:39] Speaker 1: pour all this out on you. I don't think I've
[15:41] Speaker 1: ever asked how you're doing. You're not supposed to, I said,
[15:47] Speaker 1: and took another sip of tea. We sat in silence,
[15:52] Speaker 1: but it was no longer uncomfortable. We finished our tea
[15:57] Speaker 1: just after the sky turned dark. The orange streaks along
[16:01] Speaker 1: the window blinds faded into a dull, stale blue, then
[16:05] Speaker 1: vanished completely. He got up and moved toward the bedroom,
[16:10] Speaker 1: gesturing for me to follow. The bedroom was sparse, a
[16:16] Speaker 1: low mattress pressed into the far corner, one night stand
[16:20] Speaker 1: beside it, scratched along the edges, and a pairing knife.
[16:27] Speaker 1: I looked at him. He was pulling an extra pillow
[16:30] Speaker 1: from the closet, placing it at the foot of the mattress,
[16:34] Speaker 1: as if he had already decided that I'd take the
[16:36] Speaker 1: chair in the corner. I nodded toward the knife. Do
[16:42] Speaker 1: you usually sleep with that there? He glanced back, his
[16:47] Speaker 1: face neutral. I don't use it, he said, 'is just
[16:52] Speaker 1: for comfort if something ever happens, if he ever does anything,
[16:58] Speaker 1: it helps me sleep knowing it's there. He wasn't offensive,
[17:04] Speaker 1: but his tone didn't invite further questions either. I stared
[17:09] Speaker 1: at it a moment longer, then sat down in the chair.
[17:14] Speaker 1: People kept all sorts of things near their beds, flashlights, rosaries,
[17:19] Speaker 1: baseball bats. Everyone had their own form of insurance. Still,
[17:25] Speaker 1: a small ripple of hernease moved through my chest. He
[17:30] Speaker 1: dimmed the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed.
[17:33] Speaker 1: The room fell quiet, apart from the faint sound of
[17:37] Speaker 1: traffic beyond the window. It had been nearly fifteen minutes
[17:41] Speaker 1: of silence when he spoke again. He's close, he whispered,
[17:49] Speaker 1: I can feel him. He was staring at the far wall.
[17:54] Speaker 1: His shoulders had begun to curl inward, his hands gripped
[17:58] Speaker 1: the edge of the mattress. I wasn't even really sure
[18:01] Speaker 1: what to say to him. After this so called mister
[18:04] Speaker 1: Grinn doesn't appear. I was sure he wouldn't. Of course,
[18:10] Speaker 1: my thoughts always go fast. When he's near, they don't
[18:13] Speaker 1: make sense. It's like I'm drowning in them, and they're
[18:17] Speaker 1: pulling me lower and lower. He was describing depression kicking in.
[18:26] Speaker 1: A heaviness settled across my shoulders, followed by a pressure
[18:30] Speaker 1: in my chest. It felt like humidity, but without warmth.
[18:35] Speaker 1: Goose bumps rose across my arms. I rubbed the back
[18:39] Speaker 1: of my neck, trying to shake it off, but the
[18:43] Speaker 1: feeling only deepened. I don't know when exactly he appeared.
[18:49] Speaker 1: One moment the corner of the room was empty, and
[18:53] Speaker 1: the next the space had changed. There was no footstep
[18:59] Speaker 1: or any other indication of movement. There was only a distortion,
[19:04] Speaker 1: something off in the shape of the room itself, not
[19:08] Speaker 1: physically but optically, as though the light around that spot
[19:12] Speaker 1: had lost direction. Then he stepped forward. He was tall,
[19:21] Speaker 1: his spine bent forward unnaturally, his necks stretched out, forcing
[19:26] Speaker 1: his chin low toward his chest. His skin had a
[19:30] Speaker 1: waxy pallor, but like the sheen of sweat or oil,
[19:34] Speaker 1: the surface looked stretched, almost preserved. His lips never parted,
[19:40] Speaker 1: but they stretched wide, deeper at the corners than what
[19:44] Speaker 1: should have been possible. And his eyes they didn't belong
[19:49] Speaker 1: in a human face clouded milky white with pinprick pupils
[19:56] Speaker 1: buried beneath. I couldn't breathe. My body had gone still,
[20:02] Speaker 1: frozen in place, or my thoughts scattered. He was real
[20:09] Speaker 1: My patience breathing had turned jagged. The mattress creaked beneath
[20:13] Speaker 1: him as he reached toward the knight stand with a
[20:16] Speaker 1: trembling arm. I can't, he whispered, I can't. He was
[20:24] Speaker 1: gripping the knife, his fingers closed around it. He held
[20:28] Speaker 1: it low, the blade angle toward the floor, as if
[20:32] Speaker 1: unsure whether he intended to use it at all. His
[20:35] Speaker 1: other hand clutched his thigh, gripping through the fabric of
[20:39] Speaker 1: his pants. The muscles in his arms spaztened as he
[20:42] Speaker 1: tried to lift the knife higher, but it was a
[20:45] Speaker 1: weak motion. I wanted to call out to him, but
[20:51] Speaker 1: my voice felt buried under a weight pressing into my chest.
[20:55] Speaker 1: My legs refused to move. Every part of me had
[20:59] Speaker 1: locked up. Mister Grinn, however, had no issues moving. When
[21:06] Speaker 1: he reached the bed. He extended one arm, his hands
[21:10] Speaker 1: closed around my patient's wrist, the one holding the knife,
[21:15] Speaker 1: the fingers wrapped around it completely The joints of his
[21:19] Speaker 1: hand flexed as he adjusted his grip, and I could
[21:22] Speaker 1: see that his fingers were disturbingly long. They curved downward,
[21:27] Speaker 1: rapping over the knuckles. He didn't yank the knife like
[21:32] Speaker 1: I thought he would have. Instead, he seemed to guide
[21:36] Speaker 1: my patient. He let out a soft gasp. His body resisted,
[21:42] Speaker 1: but his hand kept moving. The blade rose hovering near
[21:47] Speaker 1: my patient's wrist. Of his free hand. I his words
[21:53] Speaker 1: fell apart beneath his breath. Mister Grinn tilted his head further,
[21:59] Speaker 1: eyes fixed on the man's face. His grin never wavered.
[22:04] Speaker 1: He stared as if memorizing every feature. His eyes remained unfocused,
[22:11] Speaker 1: but still locked onto him. My patience seemed to try
[22:15] Speaker 1: fighting back, but to no avail. Then mister Grinn forced
[22:20] Speaker 1: my patient's hand and he started slicing the knife back
[22:24] Speaker 1: and forth. The knife slid across the skin, gliding through
[22:29] Speaker 1: the soft flesh and veins of the wrist. The motion
[22:33] Speaker 1: was smooth, almost tender. His body jerked as a wet
[22:38] Speaker 1: gasp slipped out of his mouth. My arms felt numb,
[22:46] Speaker 1: but I still couldn't move from the chair. Blood poured
[22:50] Speaker 1: from the wound in waves. The patient's chest heaved once,
[22:54] Speaker 1: then twice, and his eyes rolled upward. He made a
[22:59] Speaker 1: sound desperately wet. The handle of the knife trembled in
[23:04] Speaker 1: his hand. Mister Grinn remained still. His hand lingered on
[23:11] Speaker 1: the patient's wrist for a moment longer, then slipped away.
[23:16] Speaker 1: He stepped back into the corner from where he had
[23:19] Speaker 1: come from. Then he was gone. The space he occupied
[23:26] Speaker 1: simply ceased to contain him. One moment he was there,
[23:30] Speaker 1: and the next there was only the wall. I rose
[23:37] Speaker 1: from the chair with a violent jolt, then knocked it backward.
[23:41] Speaker 1: My knees buckled for a moment, and I stumbled toward
[23:44] Speaker 1: the bed. My patient was slumped forward, chin lowered. The
[23:49] Speaker 1: floor beneath him had turned dark red and glossy. I
[23:54] Speaker 1: dropped to my knees beside him and reached for the knife.
[23:58] Speaker 1: His fingers were still wrapped round the handle. Blood dripped
[24:02] Speaker 1: from his eviscerated wrist under the floor in thick rivulets.
[24:07] Speaker 1: Hold on, I said, My voice cracked. Stay with me, please,
[24:15] Speaker 1: I thought, by pressing my hand into the wound to
[24:17] Speaker 1: try stem the bleeding. But I heard the sirens going
[24:21] Speaker 1: off in my head. My thoughts raced forward faster than
[24:25] Speaker 1: my breath. The room closed in around me. I thought
[24:31] Speaker 1: of the knife. They would never believe I wasn't there.
[24:37] Speaker 1: I stood up, backing toward the door. The floor creaked
[24:41] Speaker 1: under my feet as I reached for the handle, using
[24:45] Speaker 1: the sleeves for my clothing to open it as to
[24:48] Speaker 1: not leave any prince. I looked back at him once more.
[24:54] Speaker 1: His body had gone still, his mouth hung slightly open.
[25:00] Speaker 1: The knife remained in his hand. Then I turned and ran.
[25:14] Speaker 1: I spent the next day in my car. I didn't
[25:17] Speaker 1: go home. I didn't call anyone. I parked a town
[25:20] Speaker 1: over and a lot behind a closed antique store and
[25:23] Speaker 1: sat with the windows cracked until the sun went down.
[25:28] Speaker 1: When it got dark, I drove around for hours, taking
[25:31] Speaker 1: roads I hadn't used in years, trying to find intersections
[25:35] Speaker 1: that didn't lead me back to anything familiar. When I
[25:39] Speaker 1: finally walked through my front door, it all felt so cold.
[25:45] Speaker 1: I kept the lights off. I didn't want to see.
[25:48] Speaker 1: I didn't want to look at my phone. I knew
[25:52] Speaker 1: what story would be there eventually, and I didn't want
[25:55] Speaker 1: to see his name in a headline. I told myself
[25:59] Speaker 1: it wasn't my fault. I told myself no one could
[26:02] Speaker 1: have helped him. But those words didn't land anywhere solid
[26:06] Speaker 1: inside of me. They passed through and left nothing behind.
[26:14] Speaker 1: Three mornings after I stopped returning calls, I stood in
[26:17] Speaker 1: my kitchen and made coffee. I had run out of sugar,
[26:22] Speaker 1: the creamer had gone sour. I stirred the black liquid
[26:25] Speaker 1: in slow, distracted circles, my body moving through the ritual
[26:30] Speaker 1: while my mind wandered. It had started raining some time
[26:35] Speaker 1: before dawn, and the sidewalk across the street shone under
[26:39] Speaker 1: the low light. I glanced through the kitchen window a
[26:44] Speaker 1: man standing still beside the bus stop, half hidden behind
[26:48] Speaker 1: the frame of a tree. He stood facing the window,
[26:54] Speaker 1: facing me. He wore a white jumper, his shoulders slip downward,
[27:02] Speaker 1: and on his face was a wide grin. I stood
[27:08] Speaker 1: motionless for nearly a full minute. Then I stepped back
[27:11] Speaker 1: from the glass and closed the blinds. I couldn't sleep
[27:16] Speaker 1: after that. I stayed awake, with every light in the
[27:19] Speaker 1: house on. I sat in bed with my laptop open,
[27:23] Speaker 1: searching for something, anything, that could explain what was happening.
[27:29] Speaker 1: I found myself in obscure forums, threads filled with phrases
[27:33] Speaker 1: like psychic contamination and shed trauma apparitions. One post mentioned
[27:39] Speaker 1: a woman who claimed her husband's hallucinations had followed her
[27:42] Speaker 1: after he died. I reached out to psychics, paid a
[27:47] Speaker 1: woman two hundred dollars to burn herbs in my living room.
[27:50] Speaker 1: She set my home with thinned energies and left a
[27:53] Speaker 1: pouch of salt under the window. Nothing changed. Visited a
[28:00] Speaker 1: priest told him I was asking for a friend. He
[28:04] Speaker 1: gave me a small silver crucifix and asked if I
[28:07] Speaker 1: had repented. I thanked him and walked out. My assistant
[28:13] Speaker 1: stopped calling. After I missed the fourth appointment. I knew
[28:17] Speaker 1: I wouldn't go back. I had no answers anymore. Nothing
[28:22] Speaker 1: I could say to clients about hope or progress would
[28:25] Speaker 1: hold any truth. The clinic eventually sent an email. I
[28:31] Speaker 1: opened it and read the first few lines. My license
[28:35] Speaker 1: would be placed under review. My caseload had been reassigned.
[28:40] Speaker 1: I closed the laptop and placed it under the bed.
[28:45] Speaker 1: I sat in the hallway that night and stared at
[28:48] Speaker 1: the dark space near the bathroom door. I knew he
[28:53] Speaker 1: was standing there. I could feel the air pulling. Two
[28:58] Speaker 1: plain clothes officers came the following morning, one younger, soft spoken,
[29:03] Speaker 1: with a notepad in hand, and the other eyes heavy
[29:07] Speaker 1: from experience. I invited them in because I didn't know
[29:12] Speaker 1: what else to do. We sat in the living room
[29:16] Speaker 1: I hadn't cleaned in days. The coffee table was clotted
[29:20] Speaker 1: with unopened mail and an empty glass with a film
[29:23] Speaker 1: of dust collecting near the rim. One of them apologized
[29:27] Speaker 1: for the visit before we even started. We're just trying
[29:31] Speaker 1: to get a sense of what you might know, the
[29:34] Speaker 1: younger one said. We know he didn't have many people
[29:37] Speaker 1: in his life, but your name was one of the
[29:39] Speaker 1: only ones that came up. We figured if anyone would
[29:43] Speaker 1: know something, it'd be you. The words struck deeper than
[29:49] Speaker 1: I expected. I nodded slowly, forcing my eyes to stay level.
[29:56] Speaker 1: It was hard to get him to open up, I said,
[30:00] Speaker 1: but he was working through a lot, childhood trauma, long
[30:04] Speaker 1: history of loss. He always carried it alone. He ended
[30:09] Speaker 1: our most recent session telling me it'll be our last one.
[30:13] Speaker 1: I was almost proud of him. I thought he'd finally
[30:17] Speaker 1: made the progress he'd come here to make. But I
[30:20] Speaker 1: was shocked when I heard the news. I lied. The
[30:25] Speaker 1: officer wrote something down, then locked up. Mum yea, it
[30:31] Speaker 1: was clearly suicide. He added clean scene. He'd recorded some
[30:36] Speaker 1: thoughts and notes we found. Didn't mention you directly, but
[30:40] Speaker 1: he talked of a man. He spoke to one that
[30:43] Speaker 1: helped him immensely. I stared at the grain of the
[30:48] Speaker 1: table and felt something crawl into my stomach. I wish
[30:54] Speaker 1: I could say I saw it coming. I lied again.
[30:59] Speaker 1: The officer didn't. They stood after a few more questions,
[31:03] Speaker 1: thanked me for my cooperation. The older one paused at
[31:07] Speaker 1: the door and said, you're probably carrying some this with you.
[31:13] Speaker 1: These things believe a mark. You should talk to someone.
[31:20] Speaker 1: I gave him a smile. I will. That night, I
[31:29] Speaker 1: tried to sleep on the couch. I thought maybe the
[31:32] Speaker 1: change in rooms would help. I left the hallway light on.
[31:37] Speaker 1: I closed my eyes for less than a minute. When
[31:41] Speaker 1: I opened them, he was there in the corner of
[31:45] Speaker 1: the room, half shadowed by the edge of the curtain.
[31:49] Speaker 1: His grin carved through the dark. My body folded in
[31:54] Speaker 1: a fetal position. I pulled the blanket up to my
[31:57] Speaker 1: chin and pressed my back against the cushions, as if
[32:00] Speaker 1: that thin layer of cotton could shield me from whatever
[32:03] Speaker 1: his presence meant. My eyes watered from the strain of
[32:07] Speaker 1: keeping them open, but I didn't blink. I missed my
[32:12] Speaker 1: wife and everything I had not that long ago. He
[32:17] Speaker 1: stayed there until the sun began to rise, and even
[32:21] Speaker 1: then I didn't feel him leave. I made the appointment
[32:27] Speaker 1: the following morning. I didn't think it through. I clicked
[32:32] Speaker 1: a name on a list. I booked the first available spot.
[32:36] Speaker 1: I just needed to speak to someone whose voice I
[32:39] Speaker 1: hadn't memorized. She met me in a small office down
[32:43] Speaker 1: town I converted dental sweep, judging by the layout. Young,
[32:49] Speaker 1: maybe early thirties. I sat on a couch and started
[32:54] Speaker 1: from the beginning. I told her about the divorce, about
[32:58] Speaker 1: the years I had spent convincing others that healing was linear,
[33:02] Speaker 1: about the nights I stared at the ceiling, unable to
[33:05] Speaker 1: name what I was feeling. She wrote very little. Mostly
[33:10] Speaker 1: she just listened, and when I could no longer find
[33:14] Speaker 1: ways to avoid it, I looked her in the eyes
[33:18] Speaker 1: and said, there's actually something I've been hiding from you.
[33:26] Speaker 1: Her pen stopped. I said it before I could talk
[33:29] Speaker 1: myself out of it. I told her about mister Grin,
[33:35] Speaker 1: and then would you come over just for one night?
[33:41] Speaker 1: He's going to appear tonight, and I don't want to
[33:45] Speaker 1: be alone. My voice was low, empty, All the emotion
[33:52] Speaker 1: had burned out of it. She didn't answer right away.
[33:57] Speaker 1: Her fingers danced slightly around the pen, her brow furrowed
[34:01] Speaker 1: with uncertainty. I could see the conflict behind her eyes.
[34:07] Speaker 1: She knew the boundary I'd just crossed, knew that she
[34:10] Speaker 1: should say no. But then her face softened and she
[34:16] Speaker 1: nodded once. All right, she said, but just for a
[34:22] Speaker 1: few hours.

Shows are listed from Apple Podcasts' charts and directory, and Podcast Index where it is used. Every show and episode belongs to its publisher and plays from the publisher's own feed; this site hosts none of them.