Powerful or Powerless?
Powerful or Powerless? scary stories
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lonelygirl
lonelygirljust a gal writing what she can
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
A counselor begins a weekly session with a patient, but his hallucinations become her reality.

Powerful or Powerless?

He flops on the sofa for our weekly session looking more disheveled than normal, his hair is everywhere and he looks like he hasn't showered in a few days.

He flops on the sofa for our weekly session looking more disheveled than normal, his hair is everywhere and he looks like he hasn't showered in a few days. His pale skin stretches over his bony frame.

He flops on the sofa for our weekly session looking more disheveled than normal, his hair is everywhere and he looks like he hasn't showered in a few days. His pale skin stretches over his bony frame. His flannel is the same deep green as his eyes

He sighs loudly and starts muttering to himself.

"Have the voices been worse this week?"

He turns his head towards me and takes a moment to register that my question had come from my lips.

"Yes," he sighs angrily. "Another one started the other day."

I glance at my notepad. That makes seven.

I glance at my notepad. That makes seven. That he's told me about.

"Is it a voice you recognize?"

His eyes dart away and he mumbles something. I try a different approach.

"What is this voice saying to you?"

"It wants me to do things, but I think it is looking out for me..."

He pauses. "I don't want to talk about the voices today."

"Okay," I continue, "What would you like to focus on today?"

He stares dead ahead, eyes fixed on the door across the room.

"The hallucinations."

"Why don't you guide me through what's been happening."

"It's like I get pulled away from what's real," he begins.

"Sucked away. Sounds get softer, I feel nothing, where I am fades away until I am surrounded by darkness..."

I focus on the couch he is draped over. The room slips away and eventually, so does he.

I can still hear him talking to me though, or is it in my head?

"I usually just start to yell. For anyone. But there's nothing. I can't even hear myself."

I open my mouth but no sound comes out.

I start to panic and run, but there's nothing to run to or nothing to run from.

"Something will usually start to come into focus, so I will go towards it."

I see a light and fix my vision on it.

"By the time I get there it is usually something horrible."

Then I see the cold metal room. A man grabs me and forces me down. He cuffs my hands to the table and sets down a briefcase.

"Tell me what you know," he growls.

I start crying because I have no idea what he is talking about. For some reason I know what the briefcase is for and it makes me sob louder.

I try to plead with him and he tells me not to play games.

The clasps of the briefcase are undone and he reaches for the needle.

"You know what I am going to do to you if you do not give me what you want."

I cried with defeat. I could not give this man what he wanted and he was going to kill me because of it.

"When this first started to happen I would get so lost and not know what to do, but I started being able to realize when I was not in the present and try to bring myself back."

I knew this couldn't be real, but the man's hot breath on the back of my neck and the cold metal around my wrists told my body otherwise.

"I usually try and bring my senses back to reality, one by one."

All I see is darkness.

All I see is darkness. All I can feel is cold.

All I see is darkness. All I can feel is cold. All I can hear are my own sobs and the man heckling me.

And something else?

And something else? Another voice?

It's my name being spoken softly. I focus all my energy on that one voice. It gets louder as I see the man close the space between. He's holding the lethal injection.

The darkness around me begins to fade and I can see the door of my office across from me. I hear my name again. My eyes snap open and I panic. My wrists feel sore. My arm is tense.

My face is wet with tears.

He's still draped across the couch on the other side of the room. He's angled more towards me probably out of concern.

"It just happened to you didn't it?" he says quietly.

I wipe my face and try to calm my nerves.

I wipe my face and try to calm my nerves. I was in my office, not in any sort of danger.

I wipe my face and try to calm my nerves. I was in my office, not in any sort of danger. No one was out to get me.

I wipe my face and try to calm my nerves. I was in my office, not in any sort of danger. No one was out to get me. None of that was real.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"I didn't mean to..." he starts. "Sometimes it happens to me and sometimes I see it happen to others around me. I don't know how to control it."

"Well," I say, "We really need to figure this out."

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