Exceptional A fictional account of a patient-therapist encount A Therapist's Nightmare by RaymondJohn

Category:  Mystery and Crime Fiction   Posted:  November 27, 2007      Views: 361

RAYMONDJOHN  IN PRINT   ABOUT RAYMONDJOHN  Raymond John is a hopeless FanStory addict who has at times spent as many as twelve hours in a single day reading, reviewing and writing for the site. His three purposes are based on three "Es" which are Explain, Enlighten and Entertain. His greatest fear is to take himself too seriously. He may not always smile, but he always has a twinkle in his eye. Knock his socks off with a fantastic write and he'll be your best cheerleader and give you a banner award, to boot. He has written two novels and numerous short works. His first book, The Cellini Masterpiece, has sold nearly 3,000 copies and received an Honorable Mention in the 2006 IPPY awards. It is now available in a Kindle edition from Amazon.com. An audio version (ISBN 9780615268125) is now available read by the renown actor, James Cada. MP3 edition, downloadable for IPOD, is 14.95. Order at www.raymondjohnbooks.com. His second mystery, Mix and Match Murder, which was originally scheduled for release in September of 2008 is now in print and available from Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and North Star Press. A scholar born in the golden age of radio, Raymond always appreciates hearing a well-told story, especially one with action and believable dialogue in a historical setting. I have written and received many reviews. I have a thick skin, so if constructive criticism is forthcoming, bring it on. He has won several contests. The contest submission Mousie, Kittie and Booger was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. Gold In Them Thar Words was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. Lot 386 was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. He is a top ranked author and is currently holding the #22 position. Portfolio | Become A Fan Author's Note: This is another excerpt from the upcoming Mix, Match and Murder to be published in Spring of 2008. Jennifer Cahill is a child psychologist who works for many school districts in the Minneapolis-St.Paul area. Her most important case is to help 22-year-old Jason Dumont regain his memory after being on the scene of the murder of his mother fifteen years previously--or may actually have been the murderer. This is an encounter with one of her usual patients. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Sean McCullough's impenetrable blue eyes glittered as Jennifer held up a richly-detailed drawing. It showed a masked figure in combat fatigues holding a pistol in each hand, set against a backdrop of a school lunch line. Though it chilled her to the bottom of her soul, she pasted on a look of impressed admiration. "This is really great," Jennifer said enthusiastically. "Is that you?" McCullough, sitting with his feet on his chair and hiding behind his legs, burrowed more deeply into the chair and covered his head with his pencil-thin arms. The knees of his black silk pants now completely obstructed Jennifer's view of his face and the front of his black tee-shirt. She had noticed the shirt when he came in for his appointment. It showed a human skull and the whole front of the shirt was covered with printed blood spatter. Jennifer waited for an answer, but he remained silent. "I bet this is for a comic book you're making, isn't it? It's so good, I'll bet you can find someone to publish it when you're done." He drew himself in tighter against the chair. "The only trouble is you were drawing this in math class," she said, her voice turning serious. "What's worse, it's the first class you've attended in a week." She stopped to wait for a reaction. "We have an agreement, remember?" McCullough still didn't answer. Jennifer moved closer and stared at him. "You haven't been taking your meds, either, have you?" "It's none of your business. Leave me alone." "It is my business. Yesterday's blood test says it loud and clear. I don't understand why you stopped taking them." "I hate the way they make me feel." Jennifer studied him for a moment. "How do the pills make you feel?" "Like a geek. Not like myself." "Do you like how you're feeling now?" "What do you mean?" the teen asked with a glare. "Are you happy with the way you feel?" "Sure, I'm happy." "You don't seem happy to me," she persisted. "You're sitting here frowning. Last time you were smiling. You had been doing your work in your classes. Your dad tells me you went fishing with him for the first time in ten years." "Big deal. Who cares? All my friends told me they didn't like me the way I was acting when I was taking my meds. I'm not going to take them any more." "You may not have any choice. How does daily blood tests sound to you? Do you like being stuck with needles?" "You can't do that!" "Sure can," Jennifer lied. "You're sixteen and an unemancipated minor. Your behavior and your drawings put you in a high-risk category. You're perfectly fine when you're on your Reserpine. We want to keep you that way." "You can't," Sean screamed. "This isn't fair. I'll get a lawyer." "Maybe instead of thinking how you can beat the system, think about the good stuff that will happen when you're back on the meds. You'll graduate, and your Dad told me he promised you a car when you do. You'll be on your own instead of under someone's thumb all the time. And even if you don't believe this, you'll feel a heck of a lot better." "Not worth it. My friends won't want to have anything to do with me." "If they're really friends, they'll stick with you. If they're not, you'll find others." She paused. "You have two choices, Sean. You can either do what needs to be done voluntarily and get the bennies, or we can force you and you don't get a thing except to keep your crummy attitude. What's it going to be?" Sean glared at her. "Neither. I'll run away." She gave him a stern look. "Great idea. Live on the streets. Someday you might get to feeling so rotten you'll jump off a bridge, or you get some bad dope and you'll die that way. Or maybe you'll be lucky and just get beaten up because you have something someone else wants." He crammed his fingers in his ears. "Look, Sean, if you really decide to kill yourself, it's pretty hard to stop you, but I want to make damned sure you don't take anyone else with you when you do. Going out in a blaze of glory is for punks, and everyone will revile your memory for the rest of their lives." "Who cares?" "We've talked enough. Just go back on your meds. Do we have a deal or not?" "I don't know." "Tell you what. I'll give you a day to think about it. In the meantime, give me your cell phone. Starting tomorrow, I'll arrange for an escort to see that you go to your classes. It won't be obvious, so you won't feel humiliated. After that..." "No!" McCullough shouted, springing out of his chair with a snarl to take a threatening step in her direction. Jennifer stood her ground. After more than six years of dealing with potential violence from patients off their meds, she knew exactly what to do. Without raising her arms in protection, she stared him in his eye. He loomed like a six-foot scarecrow. Chest heaving, the teen took another stride toward her. Mirroring the movement, Jennifer took a step backward. Her teeth rattled as the corner of the desk dug into her back. "Sean, stop," she said in a quiet voice. McCullough continued to stomp forward. Heart racing, she reached into her pocket and felt for the aerosol bottle of pepper spray she always carried with her. (Ital)Please don't make me use this. McCullough thrust his face into hers. As it contorted into a grin, he asked, "Whatsa matter, lady? You afraid of me?" The question hung in the air. Knowing that any answer could be deadly, Jennifer tightened her grip on the bottle. Locking eyes, she held her breath. Seconds later, she asked, "What do you want?" in a calm voice. As she said it, a thought of Jason flashed by ...Could he ever be provoked to act the same way? The silence grew deeper. With her hand hurting from the tension of her grip, and blood pounding so hard her eyes ached, she waited for Sean to make the next move. The teen broke out laughing. "What do I want? What do you think I want? I want to be left alone." Jennifer sprang into the breach. "This isn't the way to do it. If you feel boxed in now, the box will get a heck of a lot smaller if the legal system gets called in." "You gonna report me?" McCullough asked in a dark voice. Jennifer again prepared for an attack. "I'll have to let your social worker know what happened, but I won't contact the police. I definitely will if you continue to threaten me." The teen stepped back, laughing. "I just wanted to scare you. I wouldn't really have hurt you." "Sure," she said in an ironic voice. "You're lucky it was me. Sooner or later, you'll run into someone who will take you at your word and decide to get in the first blow. He might make it with a gun." After a thoughtful silence, McCullough, still glaring, reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. "You win." Jennifer took the phone and put it into her top drawer. "No, you win." Recognized Share your own writing! - Information on our membership for writers. Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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