Christian Hardt
"Eight years," I replied.
"Really? Eight years doing hypnotherapy? That's impressive!" The therapist's remark seemed genuine.
"Yeah, it's a decent gig. It's honestly very similar to traditional psychotherapy. Basically the same schooling, with a mentorship through the whole 'hypnosis' element."
He smirked. "Well, Doctor Adams, I definitely wouldn't be able to do what you do. You probably get to work with a lot of interesting people."
"Used too." Correcting him, "and sort of but not really. Ninety percent of what I did was help people quit smoking."
His smirk faded, "Right. Used too." He sat up a little straighter, "well, I guess that's why I'm here." Shifting the readers from his bald head to the bridge of his nose, he focused on his notes. "So, this 'event', can you run me through it again? There were some minor details in the email, but I would like to know everything."
"Sure – sure, of course..." My hands trembled in anticipation.
"Money was tight, so I had been taking some gigs as a performing hypnotist. Usually, kid's birthday parties or school events, nothing serious." I sighed, "but then... I was booked for a fraternity party. I usually wouldn't have taken it because of the variables and alcohol; but again, money was tight."
Something caught the therapist's attention, and he looked over my shoulder, then at his watch, "Sorry. Please, continue."
"Majority of the performance went to plan, but the fraternity was boozing heavily; hell, even I got a little drunk." I chuckled, "Hard to say no to a bunch of chanting twenty-somethings."
The therapist's pen worked busily.
"I was wrapping up and preparing my final act as the frat president was pushed up on stage. He wasn't part of the plan, but his 'brothers' all wanted him to be the finale."
Pausing, I waited for the therapist's full attention.
He met my gaze with a hazy-eyed look, "Please... go on."
I continued, "I did what I usually would do. I snapped my fingers-"
I snapped my fingers; the therapist jolted at the noise.
"And put him into a trance." I waved my hands over his blank face.
"If I were to rouse him from hypnosis..." Focusing now, "I would tell him to... wake up."
The therapist held the dazed look and spoke slowly, "And... then what?"
A buzzer went off and a guard walked through the door behind me, "Alright psychic fuck, time to go."
I argued back, "B-but I s-still have more time! I haven't got t-to tell him!"
"Tell him what? Tell him you convinced a kid to slit his own throat?" He glared at the therapist,
"Spoiler doc, this psychopath convinced a kid to kill himself – the end." The guard yanked me to my feet.
I glared deeply into the therapist's eyes while being dragged to the door and spoke low.
"Wake up."
The therapist looked down at the pen for just a moment, then jammed it into his neck.
CLAMOR 