THREE - Episode 2

Short Story Tuesdays

As Dr. Russell sped down the streets of Austin he listened to the recorded sessions he had made of him and Sam, while wondering how in the world this could really be possible. Nothing he had ever read, ever studied could explain what was going on.  A patient’s psychosis could not manifest into reality, it was that simple. And yet the nose bleeding had really occurred, after being warned by Sam that it would. And to involve his precious children as well?!

Russell fished his cellphone out of his pocket and speed-dialed his wife.

“Sweetie, where are you?

“Are the kids, ok?”

“Yeah, my nose has stopped bleeding too. As soon as you get there ask for Dr. Flores. I called ahead, he’s waiting.

“You’re breaking up…

“Look, I’ll call you back soon. Let me know if anything changes.”

His precious kids. How could he let anything happen to them? How could this happen? Had the patient slipped him some kind of drug? That affected the kids too, but not his wife?

It didn’t make sense, no sense at all. Russell went back to listening to the recorded sessions.

“This is a partnership. We’re going to get to the bottom of this together. Now, why the obsession with the number three?”

“I don’t know. My first memory of it was when I was nine. Learning my times tables. Counting on my fingers. Three standing out over all else. ‘Three times three is nine. I’m nine. I’m part of three,’ I would say over and over again. Then the threats would come. If I didn’t finish the math test in three minutes my little brother Kenny would die. Fall from the jungle gym and break his neck. If I didn’t get on and off the school bus three times before it left my dad would die in a car accident. I’d try to distract myself. Use the alphabet instead. But no matter how much I’d concentrate I’d always find the number. Or it would always find me.”

“Did you ever tell anyone about the obsession? A parent? A teacher?”

“I once reached out to my math teacher. Asked if it was normal to think about numbers all the time. She said it was a sign of brilliance. That numbers are all around us. All around us. That just made things worse. I started to draw little faces on my fingers, to show how I felt. How happy I felt when I was able to obey the demand and be spared the pain of losing someone I loved.  The sad face telling how I felt inside, the three-monster consuming me more and more. And the angry face. The monster that would hurt me, hurt my family, if I didn’t do what I was told.”

“But there had to have been times when you couldn’t do what you were demanding of yourself. What happened then? When reality proved your bad thoughts would never actually come to fruition?”

“It never got to that point. It knew my limitations, since it was me. Is me. If I was close to failing it would give me another chance. Top one three with another.”

“Those around you didn’t pick up on your irrational behavior?”

“Sometimes I’d get caught in the act, but I’d always dismiss it as some kind of joke.”

“And you say it was getting worse and worse. How did you cope?”

“Distractions. Shifting my focus as often as I could. The trip to Disneyland helped when I was ten. Well, most of it did. But no matter what, three would always end up finding me.”

“Did you ever come across anyone who displayed the same kind of behavior? Ever feel that this was not a normal way to live?”

“Deep down inside I knew I wasn’t normal, but I didn’t know how to explain it to others. And if I even thought about it, the threats would come so much more. But yeah, I finally learned the name one day while watching an old movie with my dad. The guy in the movie seemed a lot like me, and they called it OCD. I felt like hiding, especially when my dad called him, ‘A fucking retard.’ But I just laughed and kept it inside.”

“Now that you had a name for it, you didn’t try and find out more about it?”