When therapy turns toxic, one man decides the cure lies not in healing—but in vengeance.
Grab-Hold First Line:
Tim Jackson had never heard a therapist speak those words—especially not with that smirk.
Flash Fiction Prompt
“You’re a sick man. Do me a favor and jump off the 52nd Street bridge.”
The sentence echoed in Tim’s head long after he’d left the office. He’d come to Dr. Brant for help—panic attacks, sleepless nights, the usual. But that smug look behind the glasses had twisted something inside him. Maybe Brant thought he was clever, pushing buttons to provoke some therapeutic epiphany. Or maybe he was just cruel.
That night, Tim stood at the bridge, staring at the dark water. He imagined what it would feel like—the drop, the silence, the end. Then he smiled. No, not tonight. Brant wanted him dead? Fine. But first, Brant would learn what it meant to feel helpless. Therapy would continue… on Tim’s terms.
He turned away from the railing, already planning their next session.
Reader Engagement Question:
If someone pushed you past your breaking point, would you walk away—or make them wish they hadn’t?
