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In the hushed confines of the therapist's office, Lovette perched on the edge of the plush chair, her fingers delicately tracing a pattern on her trembling hands. The remnants of her nightmare still lingered in her mind. The memories, vivid and raw, replayed as if etched into her very being. She could almost smell the metallic tang of her mother's blood, feel the weight of it staining her figure skating sweater. Her hands seemed to bear an imagined residue, heavy with an invisible crimson flow. In a desperate attempt to stifle the rising turmoil within, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to relax.
"They're back," Lovette murmured vaguely, her voice barely above a whisper, as she opened her eyes, searching for any flicker of response from her therapist.
Dr. Florence, ever attentive, observed the girl's nervous fidgeting, her fingers tracing the arm of the sofa like an anxious dance. "Who is back?" the therapist inquired gently.
"Not who—what," Lovette corrected, her gaze momentarily falling to the coffee table that stood as a barrier between her and Dr. Florence. "My nightmares. They're back."
Curiosity mingled with concern on Dr. Florence's face as she leaned forward, eager to understand the depths of Lovette's distress. "When did you start experiencing these nightmares?" she probed.
The younger girl shrugged, her vulnerability evident in the slight tremor of her voice. "Ever since the accident. I just started staying up really late so I could just pass out of exhaustion so my brain would be too tired to dream."
Dr. Florence's expression softened, her empathetic eyes meeting Lovette's. "How often were you resorting to that?"
"Almost every day," Lovette confessed, her admission a fragile testament to the profound impact of her nightly torment.
A somber silence settled over the room as Dr. Florence absorbed Lovette's words, her gaze lingering on the delicate lines etched upon the girl's weary face. Then, breaking the stillness, she gently probed further, seeking insight into the recent resurgence of Lovette's nightmares.
"I was with someone," Lovette began, her voice trembling with vulnerability, "and I fell asleep while watching a movie. That's when it happened."
Despite her gratitude for the presence of Chris, who had managed to rouse her from the nightmarish abyss, Lovette remained paralyzed by an overwhelming dread that prevented her from embracing sleep. Instead, she resorted to the temporary relief offered by energy drinks, her desperation for wakefulness eclipsing any consideration for the toll it was taking on her well-being.
Concern etched deep lines on Dr. Florence's forehead as she fixated on the exhaustion etched upon Lovette's face, the heavy bags under her eyes speaking volumes about her sleepless nights. "When was the last time you actually slept?" she inquired, her voice carrying a tinge of horror.
