Portance of Fear is a horror fiction podcast
which is intended for mature audiences. Discretion
is advised. Welcome, fearlings, to another weird
and horrifying tale made just for you. I am your
host, Mashulu, and I'll be your guide into the
macabre and mysterious. Tonight, we find out
how close a killer can get to their victim in
Wearing You. Before we get started... Take a
moment to like, subscribe, and ring that notification
bell so you don't miss a single terrifying story.
Harold Taubin walked into the doctor's office
carrying a small red and white cooler, the kind
someone would take to a job site for their lunch.
He was dressed in overalls, a white shirt, and
a black cap. The office was nothing fancy, some
potted plants, generic oil paintings of serene
scenes, and calming light green paint on the
walls. There was an aged leather couch with what
most would consider to be too many pillows, and
a matching chair. The doctor stood next to the
chair, notebook in hand. He was a tall Latin
man in his 40s with short brown hair, kind eyes,
and a well -trimmed beard. Welcome, Mr. Tobin,
the doctor said with a smile. Oh, please call
me Harold. Okay, I will. Please take a seat.
I'm Dr. Adam Perez. Do you mind if I record our
session? It makes it easier for the notes, the
doctor asked. Is just doctor okay? Harold asked
as he took his seat. His voice was audibly nervous.
He'd been unable to sleep for several days. Of
course, you can call me Adam or just Perez too.
Whatever makes you comfortable. The doctor's
reply to this question was well rehearsed. Meeting
a new patient was always exciting. It's the main
reason he went to school for psychiatry, to help
people. Okay, thank you. And no, I don't mind
if you record, he replied. Harold had rough hands,
the kind that had seen a lot of long days on
the job site. His complexion was sunburned red
for the most part. Working outside had aged him.
All right, Harold, I see here you've been suffering
from nightmares as well as you wrote split personalities.
It's affecting your work and sleep. Can you tell
me more? It all started about three months ago.
I started having nightmares about my job. I'd
be working and suddenly I felt out of control,
like someone else was running my body. Then it
felt like it was happening in real life. I'll
talk in other people's voices and freeze when
I really want to move. It's frustrating. That
sounds frightening. Tell me, what kind of work
do you do? Dr. Perez was already jotting down
notes. I work construction and maintenance around
the city. Handyman for hire, but I've also worked
on large building projects. Harold rubbed his
calloused hands together, never sitting fully
back on the couch. He glanced around the room,
wondering about how much it cost to be here for
just one hour. You seem very nervous. You're
safe here. You can tell me whatever you want.
I'm not here to judge. I'm here to help, Dr.
Perez reassured. Would you like something to
drink? No, I'm just worried that they will come
out soon and cause me more problems. They already
cost me a job on a site I was working. They say
the most insane things. Now, Harold, we don't
use the word insane. Tell me, who are they? The
people in my head. I was working this job a few
months ago, like I said, and I just blacked out.
That's not true. I could still see out my own
eyes, but I had no control over my body. The
words coming out of my mouth were not my own.
It was frightening. Then I started talking in
their voices. Sometimes it was a man's voice
or a woman's voice. Do you have names for these
people who you talk through? No, I've only heard
their voices. Harold looked down at the ground
suddenly. The doctor pressed gently as he scratched
notes out on the paper. Yeah, you know, this
was a bad idea. I can't talk about this with
you. You seem like a nice person. You're not
like them. I don't want anything bad to happen
here. Shaking his head, Harold got up and started
for the door. Harold, please sit. I'm here to
help you. This could be a very severe condition
called dissociative identity disorder, but we
need to dive deeper to be sure. It's nothing
to be ashamed of, and I can help you. But you
need to trust me, Dr. Perez said gently. Harold
stood at the door with his back to the doctor.
He spoke in a falsetto voice. He's lying to you,
doctor. He doesn't want you to know the truth.
He just wants to get rid of us. You're in danger.
Who am I speaking to now? Dr. Perez shifted his
seat. Was he in danger? Harold turned back to
Dr. Perez and took a more feminine stance. My
name is Bernadette, and the man you're talking
to, he... No! Harold's voice yelled. He went
back to his own posture. See, I can't do this.
Harold, please sit down. You need help. Harold
walked over and sat. Doc, it is so hard to have
them with me all the time. They fill my head
with their lives and dreams. They make me feel
guilty about my life. Harold looked down at the
floor. He was obviously embarrassed. You said
these were real people's voices? Strangers you've
met? Where did you meet Bernadette? She was a
waitress at the Lenny's. Bernadette's voice broke
through. He's lying. We met at a bar. I was working
at where he... No! Harold's natural voice returned.
Doctor, please, you must stop this. What can
we do? Harold, I think the best course of action
is to check you into a facility that specializes
in psychiatric care just for a few days to monitor
your condition and come up with a treatment plan.
This is not going to be dealt with in an hour
-long evaluation. And I'm worried about your
safety. No. No, I can't go to an asylum again,
Harold said before a new, much lower voice came
out. You're in trouble, Perez. He's unstable.
He's losing it. I'm Charles and he... The voice
trailed off. Okay, okay. I want you to take slow,
deep breaths. Try to focus on my voice. I want
to speak to Harold. Tell me, how many voices
speak through you? Dr. Perez spoke calmly, trying
to take the stress out of the room. He had seen
this condition before, but never had all the
personalities shifted between one another so
fast, and they were all agitated. Four, Harold
said meekly in his natural voice again. He looked
up. Tell me about the last person who spoke.
Charles. He was my friend till he died. Then
I started hearing him in my head. How did he
die? He fell three stories onto a pile of cement
blocks. He didn't die right away either. He screamed
for 30 minutes. The ambulance showed up five
minutes too late, Harold said quietly. I'm so
sorry for your loss. Did you see when it happened?
Yeah, I did, Harold said before his voice shifted
again. You're lying again. You were the one that
pushed me. You murdered me. Charles, I need to
speak with Harold. Doc, I'm telling you, he's
lying. Charles, I need to speak with Harold.
I can help all of you. Harold returned to the
front of his mind. I'm here. I'm not lying. I
don't think you are. I think you blame yourself
for your friend's death, and you took on his
personality to punish yourself. It was an accident.
One second he was smiling and talking, the next
he was gone. I understand. That's a lot to work
through. You'd said that you didn't know any
of them. I didn't. Not really. Save for Charles,
who I don't like to think about. I'm sorry. I'm
trying to keep my mind together, you know? I've
gotten to know them on a much more personal level
since they started living in my head. They talk
all the time, telling me what their hopes and
dreams were, what I stole from them. I never
used to have this issue. I would do my work and
that was that. But now I'm being haunted. I can't
get away. I won't go back. There's no record
here of you being admitted to a psychiatric facility
of any kind. Are you sure you were in one? Yeah,
I was there. I think they closed it down. And
you speak like all these people from your real
life are dead. I thought Charles was the only
one who you were close to when he died. I think
I killed them all. But I didn't know any of them
like Charlie. It's all so murky. A new voice
came to the front. It was lower. Tell him all
of it. Harold's voice returned. Shut up! Dr.
Perez was getting nervous himself. He didn't
know how much of this was hallucination and how
much of it was real. This seems to be a psychotic
break, he thought. He had to try to get to his
panic button to alert the authorities. It was
the safest option. If he had killed people, Dr.
Perez needed the police anyway. He had to report
it. God, he wished he still had a secretary.
His next patient might already be out there.
You're okay. You're safe. Start from the beginning
and tell me everything, Dr. Perez said. But our
hour is almost up. Don't worry about that. You're
in crisis. Give me just a moment so I can clear
my schedule. Dr. Perez got up and went to his
desk. He pressed the panic button under the lip
while pretending to look for his phone. He took
out his cell phone and messaged his other patients
that he had an emergency and put it back into
his pocket. He did all this trying to exude calmness.
Finally, he went to the door to make sure no
one was waiting. To his relief, no one was. He
then sat back down. You said from the beginning?
Well... I was 14 when I killed the first one.
She was on her way home from school. She was
in my math class. I had asked her out, but she
said no. I got angry, but I realized she was
right to say no. She was an angel, a real one.
I had to set her free. Just before spring break,
I waited for her to go in this alley that was
a shortcut, and I grabbed her. I slit her throat.
Harold said all of this in his own voice while
looking at the ground. I've forgotten her name.
It doesn't matter. Dr. Perez knew at that moment
It was real. Harold was a serial killer. The
recorder was on. He just had to keep this man
calm and talking. The police would be here soon.
Why did you kill her, Harold? I loved her. I
love all my victims. They need to be in heaven,
not in this cesspool of a world. She was perfect.
Now she always will be. He was still looking
at the floor. She was a trapped angel. Does she
speak through you too? Nah. It's like I said,
it's only been the last four that do. They're
overwhelming me. How many people have you killed?
The doctor glanced at the clock. Any time now,
guys, he thought. The fourth young femme voice
with a slight accent Dr. Perez could not place
spoke. He's killed 27 over the past 30 years.
I was his last victim. What's your name? Dr.
Perez, it's me. Tony Salazar. Tony? No. No. I'm
sorry. He met me at an event downtown I was hosting.
He seemed nice. We hit it off. We went out a
few times. I told him how much you helped me.
Just three days ago, he attacked me at my house.
I was still alive when he tore the skin off my
face. Now, Harold was looking directly at the
doctor with stone dead eyes. No, this can't be
true. Please tell me you didn't hurt Tony. Please,
the doctor begged. I did. They were one of the
angels, and I must know what it feels like to
be one of them. Dr. Perez's eyes filled with
tears. Anger and grief swelled up in his throat,
but he had to keep his cool. He looked at the
clock. Where the hell are the cops? They should
be here by now, he thought. You keep saying angels.
What do you mean, Dr. Perez asked as he fought
through the shock and fear. Perfect beings, like
you. Harold, no one is perfect. We all have our
faults. Everyone is human. No, that's not true.
There are angels among us. like Tony and Bernadette
and you. You all need to be in heaven, not here.
What if God wants us here, Dr. Perez inquired?
Why? To make sure his people are safe. Nah, that's
not what's going on. You don't have your powers.
I bet you don't even see that you're an angel,
but I do. You're all trapped here for some reason.
I'm helping by freeing you. What if you're wrong?
What if you're going against God through your
deeds? Dr. Perez took a risk and pushed. He knew
at any second Harold could try to free him from
his earthly bounds. That's a lie. Don't say that.
I'm doing the Lord's work. He wants me to send
his angels home. Doc, be careful. He's not thinking
straight. He has a plan for you, Bernadette's
voice said. Bernadette, I need to talk to Harold.
I'm here. He returned to his original voice.
Harold, I understand what you're going through.
We can get you help. Killing people is wrong.
Your justification is from years of an unchecked
mental condition. You need medication and therapy,
the doctor said firmly. I don't want meds. The
voices are real. You have to believe me. Harold's
agitation grew. They're not, though. They're
products of bad chemistry in the brain, nothing
more. We can treat you. Do you really want to
keep killing? I have to. That's why I need your
help. Harold looked back down at the floor. He's
still lying. He's not schizophrenic. He's just
evil. He enjoys killing, the lower voice insisted.
You're not going to make it out of here, Doc.
Why? asked Tony. The voice trailed off, and Harold
looked up and yelled, Will you all be quiet?
Harold, all these hallucinations are part of
a larger mental condition. Reality is in flux
for you. It can be hard to know what to trust,
but I promise you I will do everything I can
to help you. The voices are not just me talking.
They are real, Doctor, and I can prove it. How?
Play back your recording. The part where Tony
spoke. Dr. Perez did so. When he heard it, his
blood froze. Harold was not lying. Tony's voice
was right there. Somehow, his victims were speaking
through Harold. When the doctor played the recording,
instead of Harold's voice in a higher register,
it was Tony's actual voice. He stopped the recording.
His hands had violent tremors. Harold. What the
hell did you do? I started wearing their faces,
at least the last four. I wanted to pretend to
be them, live their pathetic little lives. They
won't get out of my head. All day and night they
talk, telling me I'm an animal, a monster. There's
no quiet moment, no relief. You have to help
me get them to shut up. I want my life back.
You're the real Harold, said Dr. Perez. You were
lying this whole time. I thought I was good at
seeing through people's masks, but I fell for
yours, hook, line, and sinker. If you don't see
angels when you kill someone, what do you see?
Prey. Dr. Perez hated everything about that one
simple word, especially how it sounded coming
out of Harold's mouth. People were nothing to
this person. He'd never dealt with a violent
psychopath before. Maybe that's why he had missed
it. But he had to try something to stall just
a little longer. I hate to tell you this, Harold,
but the police will be here any moment. I pressed
the panic button earlier. This stops today. Harold
chuckled for a moment. Go ahead, Tony. Tell the
doctor. Harold's body language changed along
with his voice. Doctor, I never meant for any
of this to happen. I'm sorry, but I told him
about your panic button. He disabled it outside.
How did you know about it, Tony? Dr. Perez growled.
Remember a year ago when I, well, had one of
my episodes? You called the cops by pushing the
button under your desk. I watched you do it.
I swear he forced me to tell him everything.
I'm so very sorry, Dr. Perez. I really am, but
no one is coming. Then their voice was gone.
Harold continued. It's just me and you and the
four idiots in my head. I do have a plan, though.
It's simple. I take your face and wear it. You
join me here. It will be like having my own personal
doctor. You get rid of the others, and then yourself,
and we're all happy. That's insane! That's never
going to work! Dr. Perez, I thought we didn't
use that word in this office. The doctor's head
was pounding. He was going to die here. I might
have a chance if I can keep Harold talking, he
thought. Now, since Tony sold you out, I think
it's fitting that I wear Tony's face while I
remove yours. Harold opened the cooler and pulled
out a freezer bag with Tony's face in it. Dr.
Perez fearfully tried to get his phone out of
his pocket, but the adrenaline was pumping through
his veins and his hands would not cooperate.
He looked up at Harold. Tears started to stream
down his face as he watched Harold stretch a
black elastic band that was attached to Tony's
ear skin over his head. He stretched their face
over his. It was the most hideous thing the doctor
had ever seen. He started to scream uncontrollably.
Okay, doctor. Time for your facelift. Dr. Perez,
finally getting control over his legs, jumped
to his feet and raced for the door. Harold tackled
him halfway there. They both slammed to the ground.
The doctor could feel Tony's ice -cold dead flesh
on the back of his neck. That's it. Fight. I
love it when people fight to live. It makes watching
the light in your eyes go out so much better,
Harold sneered. Harold, this won't work. If you
do this, I'll teach them to really drive you
crazy. They will lock you up forever and I will
make you pay. Dr. Perez tried to move, but Harold's
weight was too much. Harold wrapped his arm around
the doctor's neck. No, you'll help me. I will
continue my work in peace or you will be trapped
in my mind and I'll be the one to drive you insane.
This time when he spoke, it was both in his voice
and Tony's. Dr. Perez suddenly felt the knife
slowly cutting into his face on the right side.
Blood started to flow and drip onto the carpet.
Sharp pain shot through his brain. Stop him,
goddammit! You can take control of his body!
You can stop him! No, you idiots! I was going
to set you free, Harold yelled as his body jerked
violently off Dr. Perez's back, throwing the
knife across the room. No, I'm the master of
this body, not you! Stop this! Stop! but they
did not listen. Harold was prohibited to speak.
He just lay there frozen. Dr. Perez got up. His
heart fluttered at top speed. It took a moment
for him to catch his breath. Charles called out,
we can't control him for long. That's okay. I'll
take care of it. Dr. Perez walked over and started
kicking the hell out of Harold's head as hard
as he could until he was sure the killer was
unconscious. He fell to the floor and dialed
911. Hello, I've been attacked in my office.
Please send the police and an ambulance. Thank
you. Well, I guess Dr. Perez can now take on
a new patient. If you're treating someone possessed
by four different ghosts, would you charge a
group rate? Be sure to tell us in the comments.
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night, fearlings. Sleep well. If you can.