Free What Doesn't Kill You (A Suspense Collection) by Tim Kizer Page A

Richard
held out the pistol to Stanley.
    “Why the hell do you want me to do it?” Stanley
noticed that he was getting annoyed and maybe even agitated, and it upset him
quite a bit. It was unprofessional to let emotions control him. “Why don’t
you—” He stopped before finishing the phrase, because the last thing a licensed
psychiatrist should do was telling his patient to commit suicide.
    “Why don’t I shoot myself? Is that what you were going
to say, Doc? Or why don’t I shoot you ?”
    “I’m just asking you to leave me out of this.”
    “I need you to take a leap of faith. I have a feeling
that’s the only way to make it work.” Richard closed his left eye and aimed the
pistol at the door. “You see, I’ve already tried shooting myself. Right here,
in this room.”
    “When?”
    “Five weeks ago.”
    “Was I present when you did it?”
    “You sure were. The problem is you don’t remember it.”
    “You’re right. I don’t remember you shooting yourself.”
    “That’s why I want you to pull the trigger.
Maybe, if you really open your mind, you’ll see the truth.”
    Stanley reached for the pistol, touched its handle, and
after a short hesitation grabbed a hold of it.
    “Excellent, Doc!” Richard exclaimed. “That’s a great
start. Now stick the gun in my face and the pull the trigger. I promise you
nothing bad will happen.”
    Panting, Stanley looked at the gun, then shifted his
eyes back to Richard. “You want me to pull the trigger, huh?”
    “Yes, I do. This is the proof, Doc. The best proof
there is.”
    Stanley inhaled deeply, pointed the gun at Richard.
“Okay. Just remember it was your idea.”
    Then he pulled the trigger.
     
    12.
    Saturday morning, Stanley made an odd discovery. As he
washed his face, it caught his attention that the scar he’d had on his chin was
gone. He’d earned this scar in that memorable schoolyard fight he’d gotten into
when he was twelve. Stanley could swear he’d seen the scar while washing his
face the night before.
    Look for things that are there that
should not be, and things that should be there but are not.
    Was it possible that he’d had this scar surgically
removed and then simply forgotten about it?
    That was a crazy proposition.
    To hell with the scar. Even if he had indeed imagined
that fight, it didn’t follow that the universe was Richard’s, or anyone else’s,
dream.
    He must be tired.
    One thing was for sure: schizophrenia was not
contagious, so he didn’t have to worry about catching it from Richard. And
since his family had no history of mental illness, chances were that whatever
he’d been going through wasn’t insanity.
    By the way, at what age did schizophrenia symptoms
typically start? After digging in his memory for a minute, Stanley was
surprised to find that he didn’t remember the answer to this question. He
wished he could say that it didn’t bother him, but the truth was he felt quite
uneasy about forgetting what any decent psychiatrist was supposed to know by heart.
    What would be the best evidence that he was living in
Richard’s dream?
    Maybe he should try Richard’s approach and shoot
someone? If that person came back to life, he would have no choice but to
believe Richard, because in real life people that had been shot dead stayed
dead.   
     
    13.
    “So? Are you satisfied, Doc?” Richard crossed his legs,
his gaze fixed on Stanley. “Do you believe me now?”
    “Satisfied? Satisfied with what? Did I miss something?”
    “You got your proof. You shot me last week. With a
pistol. Right here, in the head.” Richard tapped himself on the forehead. “And
as you can see, I’m still alive. Not a scratch on my entire body.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh, I see.” Richard grimaced. “I guess the trick
didn’t work.”
    “What trick?”
    “Never mind.”
    “Are you sure? Let’s talk about it.”
    “Let’s talk about something else.”
    “Something else? All