Wrong Body

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is my favorite story I’ve ever written.

Most of this story takes place in a single room, during a therapy session. At first, the girl seems to be there simply to talk to a psychiatrist about some relationship problems, but her confession soon spirals into complete madness.

Reading this requires patience and concentration, but the moment you connect all the dots, everything falls perfectly into place and makes perfect sense.

It’s challenging, mind-bending, and a little intimidating.

I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Enjoy.

We know nothing.

We have no idea where we are, where we were before this, or where we will go once our journey in this world ends.

And that’s okay.

People much smarter than I am have failed to find those answers, and living by the rule that I would find out when the time came, I didn’t bother thinking about it.

To be honest, I rarely gave it a second thought.

I didn’t believe in ghosts, magic, other dimensions, or any similar nonsense, but as someone who deals with the human psyche, I strove to keep an open mind and at least listen to those patients who droned on about such things.

And then, in just two days and a couple of sessions with a mysterious young woman, my entire world turned upside down.

To this day, I have no idea where she came from or how...

God, if I had only known…

If I had only known what she would do to me…

I wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed that day, let alone left the house.

I would have called my assistant, Stella, told her I had a stomach bug, faked a heart attack over the phone if I had to… Hell, I’d have made up anything just to keep from going in to work.

I wouldn’t have even considered it.

She would have canceled all my patients, rescheduled them for another day, rearranged things like she always did, and I would never have met her. I would have continued living my quiet and, I dare say, happy, one-dimensional life...

Though, as I say that now, she probably would have shown up some other time anyway. But at least it would have briefly delayed that atomic bomb on my nervous system and the mental collapse that forced me to re-examine everything I had believed in.

Now, I can’t even look at my wife, my dog... I’m afraid to fall asleep… I don’t eat. I write down my dreams, and in a word—I don’t live. I merely exist and, I suppose, wait for some sign from above.

But let me go back to the very beginning.

My name is Jake Harrington. I am thirty-four years old, and by profession, I am a psychiatrist.

I’ve been in private practice for about five years now and I like it. It’s far less demanding and much easier than what I used to do at the mental hospital.

The world has definitely modernized. Going to a psychiatrist has recently become more of a trend than a source of shame or a dire necessity. Business is good. There are more patients than I can take on, but I often found myself in a situation where people mistook me for an expensive talking companion.

And I hated that, but it paid the bills.

It paid for the privilege of living in a house like this, my car, luxury trips, and so much more. It left me plenty of time for myself, my hobbies, and my wife, who truly appreciated my career change.

And that morning was completely ordinary—nothing special about it.

A Friday in April, early spring—the kind of weather made for a getaway to the countryside.

The day started normally. After a light workout, I had breakfast with my wife, Natalie. We drank coffee on the terrace, discussed plans for the upcoming weekend, and then I slowly headed to my office, located near our house.

Stella, my secretary, as I liked to call her, greeted me as always with a warm, wide smile, which I returned. But as I walked toward my office, she stopped me.

“Doctor, we have a new patient today.” She shrugged helplessly when I turned to look at her. “She called several times last week, but I only managed to squeeze her in today. Mrs. Zimmerman canceled because of the weekend... The new girl was persistent, she had a recommendation, and she wouldn’t give up.” She paused and looked at the appointment book in front of her. “I know we’re full, but I hope this is okay?”

I just nodded silently and headed inside to mentally prepare for my first patient.

I smiled, mostly to myself.

Whoever that unknown woman was, she definitely needed a psychiatrist more than Mrs. Zimmerman, the retired dentist. Mrs. Zimmerman had an excess of both money and free time, but no one to discuss current events with or thoroughly sift through the memories of her youth. She was definitely one of those who mistook me for a high-priced chat buddy. And I was actually happy about the change.

The older crowd needed conversation.

Young people mostly pestered me with romantic problems and various dramas I could hardly help them with.

Who called whom last, what this or that meant, and why on earth he wouldn’t agree to a video call when they’ve been texting for six months?

All nonsense, and something I didn’t even want to get into. Sometimes I felt like a punching bag and literally craved someone who actually needed my help. As twisted as it sounds.

And then she came along…

When she entered my office near the end of the day, my new patient—the last one for the day—seemed like the last person who would have any problems. Especially not of a mental nature.

A beautiful young woman in her early twenties. The kind of presence that leaves you speechless and makes you painfully aware of your own age.

And I should clarify—I wasn’t one of those guys. Not at all.

I loved my wife more than anything in the world, but I simply couldn’t help but notice how beautiful this girl was.

Her black hair fell perfectly straight, shimmering in the sunlight that slipped through the blinds. And her eyes—piercing, deep, and dark—were almost eerie. From the way she moved and the posture of her shoulders, I could tell she didn’t lack confidence, and then she sized me up in a way that made me freeze.

“I am Nicole. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Doctor,” she said quietly, giving my hand a firm squeeze.

Somewhat confused, I introduced myself and gestured toward the chair opposite mine.

She sat down and crossed her legs, clearly much more composed than I was. She wore tight dark grey jeans and a black leather jacket that fit her perfectly. She looked neat and well-groomed, but she didn’t have a speck of makeup on, and traces of exhaustion were clearly visible on her face.

As always, Stella came in, brought water for the new patient, and then placed a clean ashtray on the small table in front of her, next to that unfortunate box of tissues.

I noticed Nicole smile at that, but she said nothing.

Stella quickly withdrew, and I picked up my notepad, taking in the young woman.

“Nicole, what is your last name?” I began professionally, and as if she knew exactly how it worked, she dictated her basic information after asking me not to use formal titles with her.

Nicole Monroe, twenty-four years old, microbiology student.

Such a young, educated, and beautiful woman shouldn’t have had any major problems. By all standards, she looked like someone who had her life under control.

But I knew better. Many times I had witnessed that things are rarely that simple, so I asked her to tell me the reason for her visit.

“Please call me Nina, doctor. I don’t like that name, Nicole…”

I was momentarily thrown off and almost smiled instinctively.

“Your name is beautiful.”

“It’s a reminder that I was born at the wrong time.” She gave a faint smile. “My parents named me after a saint. I was supposed to arrive around Saint Nicholas Day, but I came a month early.”

I nodded, quietly amused by her childlike explanation, but she sighed and went back to my earlier question.

“You asked me about the problem… and honestly, I’m not even sure where to start.”

For the first time since she’d entered the room, her confidence faltered. She glanced around awkwardly, brushed the hair from her face, and continued in a quieter voice.

“I know you’ll probably think I’m crazy, and that’s fine. I’d think the same if I were in your shoes, but... I just need you to listen without judging me.” She frowned and swallowed hard, “Please. I can’t talk about this with anyone else, and it’s starting to suffocate me…”

She let out a shaky breath, so I decided to gently encourage her.

First sessions are never easy, and this young woman clearly had something weighing on her. As confident as she had seemed at the beginning, it was now crystal clear to me that she was scared. And that definitely caught my attention.

“It’s alright, Nina. I don’t assume someone is crazy just because they’re struggling, and I’m pretty good at telling the difference. You don’t strike me as crazy at all.”

She nodded and gave a soft smile.

Her smile was hypnotic, and I found myself growing more curious by the second about what was troubling this beautiful young woman. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then looked at me with sudden determination as she exhaled.

“It all started when I moved to this damn city. I’m not from here—my family is from the south—but I came here to study. I rented an apartment with a girl I didn’t even know at the time, and I found a job through the student employment office.”

“What kind of work?” I asked when she paused, jotting down a few notes.

“Nothing too demanding. Just occasional gigs for some pocket money and to cover my own expenses. Promotional jobs in nightclubs, restaurants, casinos… that sort of thing.”

I nodded when she looked at me questioningly, and she went on.

“I don’t want to go into too much detail, but I also shouldn’t skip the important parts. In my first year here, I met a man—Noah.” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “And he wasn’t exactly what I was looking for. A divorced guy in his early thirties. He was a police inspector. Handsome—very attractive, actually—but a bit rough and aggressive in the way he tried to pull me into a relationship or…” She stopped. “Well, I’m not even sure what he really wanted from me.”

“So you turned him down?”

“Well… no. And that’s where I made my mistake. I rushed into it, but I came to my senses pretty fast and pulled back.” She smiled faintly, “He didn’t take it well.”

It wasn’t entirely clear to me, so I interrupted.

“If I’m understanding correctly, you were in a relationship with that guy, Noah, but it ended quickly?”

“Yes. Very briefly. A little over a month, but even that felt like too long. I don’t know how to explain it… His energy just didn’t sit right with me. I never felt good in that relationship, and I had no doubts about ending it, doctor.” She exhaled and brushed the hair from her face, “I broke up with him, but he wouldn’t let go. He’d show up at my work, find me when I went out, send flowers and sweets to my apartment…” She exhaled and looked at me helplessly. “That went on for a whole year.”

She paused for a moment, frowning.

“He kept insisting I tell him what the problem was with him, and honestly, it felt too hard to just be blunt and say he creeped me out. I tried to stay polite and respectful. I diplomatically told him the age difference was too big, but that got me nowhere.”

“So he was basically stalking you?” I asked when she trailed off.

She snapped back to the reality and nodded.

“Yes… you could put it that way. And when I finally lost my patience, I told him to stop or I’d report him to the police.” She smiled, “And you won’t believe it—he took that threat seriously. Just like that, he vanished off the face of the earth.”

I smiled and nodded. How typical.

“Yeah, well. He works for the police himself. A harassment complaint wouldn’t have gone over well with his colleagues, so he did the smartest thing—he made sure there was no complaint to deal with.”

Nina nodded thoughtfully and looked down.

“How much older was he than you?” I asked.

She thought for a second, frowning.

“Thirteen… yeah, thirteen years.” She answered a little uncertainly, then waved it off. “If I had known how this would turn out, I never would’ve gotten involved with him, and I would’ve threatened him much sooner. But I didn’t, and now here we are.”

She paused again and watched me write everything down.

“Doctor, I assume you know what the domino effect is?”

I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but I answered anyway.

“Yes, of course. When one thing triggers a whole chain of events.”

She nodded with a weak smile.

“Well, he was my first domino. I wouldn’t even mention him now if our paths hadn’t crossed again in the most morbid way imaginable. But that’ll make sense later.”

Let’s see how you guys like it when I mess with your heads a little.