The//:rapist

Therapist: \ther-a-pist\

1 :An individual specializing in the therapeutic medical treatment of

impairment, injury, disease, or disorder

2 :A practitioner of psychotherapy: a psychotherapist

Prologue

Nicotine stains on my fingers

Swollen hand blues

“Phone rings”

Thirteen channels of shit on the tv to choose from

“Phone”

“Someone better be dead!” Emily stammered into the phone as she

does the half asleep blanket karate dance trying to find her way out of

bed. Fuckin sleep and The Wall both interrupted.

“It’s the middle of the day, Em.”

“I work graveyard shift you assbag”

“Emily, you’re gonna want to see this. You know that psychiatrist, Dr.

Waylan? Meet me at her office, I’ll be in the parking lot.”

When I’m a good dog they sometimes throw me a boney

“Great...fuckin Pink Floyd stuck in my head. What goddamn song is

this?”

FUCK!!!!!

_____

August 15, 1994

The strangest case I’ve ever worked in my life

The most rewarding

The most unexpected

Utterly nightmarish

Off the books

Impossible to explain from the beginning

As a veteran officer of the Philadelphia PD, I’ve seen a lot of strange

things. I started on the beat, moved to special victims, and spent my

last years in homicide. I thought I’d seen it all. It terrifies me, the level

of depravity that people are capable of.

Chadwick was a nice kid. The quiet type, but sweet quiet, not creepy

quiet. You would think after the things he has done, you would see

nothing but empty blackness in his eyes. But not with him. His eyes

were not empty at all. In fact they were quite sad. And he never knew

why until his last day on earth.

Chad and Emily met in high school. He was on his way to graduate

and she was just beginning her freshman adventures. Something

between the two of them clicked and they became quite close very

fast. They were both very good looking, but insecure about virtually

everything. Neither thought they were good enough for the other, so

dating or romance of any kind never took place.

Until that night

1986

They hadn’t seen each other in close to a decade. She never saw it

coming, didn’t even know it was him.

In his alcoholic stupor, he didn’t even know he was him

The rape was over as quick as it started.

Three days later he confesses out of shame. His first words stuck with

me to this day…

“When I was a kid, and I was asked what I wanted to be when I grow

up, I never thought I would grow up to be someone’s monster”

____

Chad’s father was a city engineer, well respected and very well

off, but nothing is known of his mother. His stepmother filled that

gap.

Now Chad had a tendency to act out in strange ways, like

snooping, stealing, lying about the weirdest things, making shit up

out of thin air, not to mention substance and alcohol abuse. But

he was not sexually active. Sex terrified him.

You know the irrational fears people have? We all have at least

one. Maybe not as outrageous as a fear of cottonballs or

peaches. But not wanting your belly button touched because it

could unravel you from the inside out, or tearing doors off hinges

and burning your house down all over a spider the size of a

dime…

Irrational fears

That’s how he felt about sex, being touched, even bathing terrified

him. He would do it, but it would be faster than a marine late for

morning muster.

Not a snowball’s chance in hell could you get him to sit in a

bathtub either. It made his skin crawl’

Irrational fears

Or were they?

His acting out earned him weekly visits to his dad’s psychiatrist,

Dr. Rhonda Waylan. Good looking woman in her 50’s, aged

naturally very well. She had a warm appearance until she opened

her mouth, at least according to Chad. He always wondered if his

father has pre-game talks with her before his appointments.

Should one feel on the defensive when one sits on the therapy

couch?

Illegal? Yes

Easy as fuck to hide? Also yes

_____

The nightmares were odd. Not particularly scary to the one being

told about them, but to Chad...sheer horror.

Pinned down

No voice

Can’t move

Can’t breathe

Silent screams

How can this tiny house have so many damn rooms

He told me once about how when he was just four years old, his dad

had smashed a black widow with the back of a hairbrush, showed it to

him, and then beat him over his bare ass with said brush, spider and

all. But he doesn’t know why. Lots of empty gaps in his childhood.

I was a happy kid, social as can be

And then I wasn’t

And I don’t know why

My heart tore when he told me that. Whatever that pain was behind

his faint blue eyes, I can’t even begin to understand. He made up for it

with his sense of humor though. Apparently his relationship history

was pretty fuckered…

“I always wind up with the type of chick you’d walk in on sitting in the

kitchen sink, one kitchen glove shy of being naked with a sponge on

her head, blowing bubbles and licking dirty plates. My third girlfriend

was pretty great though, dammit to shit, she’s the only one I ever

cheated on.”

I didn’t quite know what to make of that when he told me, but I did

learn that his tastes were a little, well, skewered. And I believed him

one hundred percent when he told me he felt like an “inner him” ran

the show and he was just along for the ride. Like he truly didn’t

understand what was going on with him.

Mad?

Normal?

“What’s the difference?” he would ask.

_____

Confidentiality is key, not just between an attorney and a client, or a

doctor and a patient. But between a psychiatrist and a patient, you

wouldn’t think it, but it could be used as a tool that nightmares are

made of.

The crime scene itself was clean. The only blood was a tiny bit that

ran down Dr. Waylan’s lip and chin, out of her obviously broken nose.

She was bound to her desk chair and gagged with duct tape. Cause of

death, obvious strangulation by telephone cord.

Chad was hunched over on the couch with a belt around his arm and

a spent needle sticking out of the crook of his elbow. Cause of death,

lethal heroin overdose. It was discovered later that he had shot 4

times the fatal limit into his system.

Chad was not a heroin addict.

He liked his whiskey and his weed.

Obvious suicide. Why though?

The initial thought was that his father’s fatal heart attack the previous

week had been the catalyst.

Nope.

At least not in the way one would think.

Next to Chad was a small diary and a notarized legal document that

just so happened to be his last will and testament. Strange thing to

find at a suicide. But the nightmare began with the diary. The cover

was engraved

Rhonda L. Waylan PhD Psycho//:therapist

All entries were written in pencil.

_____

Why in the crap would someone leave their damn will next to them at

their own murder/suicide? Chad was a weird dude, but this, I just don’t

get. From his own dad’s passing, he received a book wrapped entirely

in duct tape. Common theme yeah? But when he cut into it to get it

open, he found the majority of the pages had been hollowed out and

inside was $250,000 cash, and a folded note that read

“Here’s your fuckin’ rosebud”

_____

Underground fetish groups. I’d say use your imagination, but it might

be best you didn’t. Most are quite innocent. Mutually respected bdsm,

master slave role play, partner swapping, and so on.

Trust me, the list goes on.

But this one

Oh my god

Like the freemasons from hell.

This sadistic group would meet at different random times, but always

in the same place, to indulge in twisted fantasies involving young men,

young women and hypnosis. These people would have their

friend,neighbor,daughter,son,niece,nephew,boss (you get the gyst)

hypnotised.

What takes place during these parties was beyond unfathomable.

Bondage, rape with objects, flogging, Ted Bundy type shit. But this

was a group of people. Well known, well off people in the community,

having what seemed to be endless secret fun with, well, whoever the

fuck they wanted.

This nightmare room

Suite B

Dr. Waylayn’s office

Sucks to be you if you’re the last patient of the day.

Too bad you don’t even know it.

Chad saw her for regular hypnotherapy to try and uncover blocked out

past, as well as try and put a stop to his acting out.

It sometimes works to quit smoking, why not this?

It all boiled down to trust.

Chad had trusted this woman intimately with his everything. Here lady,

put me to sleep and do whatever it is you professionally do to help me.

Poor kid had no idea. Until he went through what was left of his dad’s

belongings after his death.

Fuckin woman taped all her “sessions”

His dad had a copy in his damn vcr.

_____

The bible says we inherit the sins of our fathers. Is that genetics?

Learned behaviors? Emulation? All or none?

His father was purged out of the world, but this kid took himself out.

Ridding the world of the monster that is Chadwick. But he wanted to

make sure he took down his monsters with him, one way or another.

The fetish ring was broken down, all involved will never see the light of

day again.

Now this case was a conflict of interest for me. I was called by a friend

as a courtesy. The last will and testament next to Chad’s body was to

me. He left me what his father left him...the money. Guilt perhaps? I

wish I could ask him.

I’ll never forget, standing over him, that damn Floyd song stuck in my

head still, and it hit me like a fucking train when I saw the diary next to

him

I’ve got a little black book

My name is Emily Bryce. Retired Philadelphia PD

Rape victim

Advocate for suicide prevention

Advocate for abuse victims of all types

Advocate for those who struggle with addiction

If I’ve learned anything in my life, I’ve learned this. There is always help.

And whoever you are, it is there for you too