My American Nightmare • Spencer Charnas x reader

0.1

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Morning
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Y/n Pov

As I sat in the waiting room, my foot tapped impatiently against the floor, a nervous rhythm betraying the anxiety bubbling within me. Each passing second felt like an eternity, my mind consumed by the looming dread of what awaited me in the therapist's office. Without my antidepressants and sleeping pills, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, my nightmares threatening to engulf me once more.

The sterile surroundings offered little comfort as I wrestled with my fears. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead seemed to mock my unease, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. I clenched my fists, trying to anchor myself in the present moment, but the specter of my nightmares loomed large in my mind, refusing to be ignored.

My heart raced as I strained to listen for the sound of my name being called. Each passing moment only served to heighten my apprehension, amplifying the cacophony of doubts and fears that swirled within me. What if the therapist couldn't help me? What if my nightmares were a harbinger of something far more sinister?

The hollow echo of footsteps finally reached my ears, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. With a mixture of trepidation and relief, I watched as the door to the therapist's office swung open.

"Come back next week," my therapist's words cut through the heavy silence, pulling me back to reality with a jolt. I looked up, my gaze lingering on the closed door as a guy emerged, his leather jacket hanging effortlessly from his shoulders. With a casual flick of his wrist, he slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.

I blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing that my therapist was addressing me. "Y/N, you ready?" he asked, his voice gentle yet probing. I tore my gaze away from the door and met his eyes, a flicker of apprehension dancing in their depths.

Nodding slowly, I pushed myself up from the chair, a sense of reluctance weighing heavy in my chest. The encounter with the mysterious stranger had left me unsettled, a nagging sense of unease gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. But I couldn't dwell on it now; I had come here for a reason, and it was time to confront the demons that haunted me.

With a deep breath, I followed my therapist out of the room, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. As the door closed behind us with a soft click.

As I settled into the chair, a wave of unease washed over me, the familiar weight of anxiety pressing down on my chest like a leaden blanket. My therapist's words cut through the silence, pulling me back to the present moment with a jolt.

"So, Y/N, last week we talked about anxiety. This week, let's talk about those nightmares. You mentioned..." his voice trailed off, leaving a pregnant pause hanging in the air.

I felt my palms grow clammy as I struggled to find the right words, my mind racing a mile a minute. Where do I even begin? The memories of those haunting nightmares felt like jagged shards of glass, cutting into the recesses of my mind with merciless precision.

"Um... well..." I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as I fidgeted with my hands, the nervous energy crackling between my fingers like electricity. Each movement felt clumsy and awkward, betraying the turmoil roiling within me.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to meet my therapist's gaze, the intensity of his stare both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. "I guess... I guess it all started when..." I faltered, the words catching in my throat like shards of broken glass.