𝗛𝗢𝗧 | 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗰𝗸 || 𝗔𝗠𝗕𝗪

𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

"So, Hope, can you tell me about that night, the second-to-last performance of your summer tour in 2023?"
The therapist's voice was gentle, a soothing presence in the dimly lit room.

Hope's hands trembled slightly as she recounted the events, her gaze distant as she delved back into the memories.

"It was... overwhelming," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The stage was set, the lights shimmered, and the crowd's anticipation was palpable. But amidst the excitement, there was this... this heaviness in the air."

The therapist nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Then it happened," Hope continued, her voice quavering with emotion.

"As I stepped into the spotlight, ready to immerse myself in the music, I felt it—a searing pain shooting through my hand." She paused, her breath catching in her throat as she relived the moment.

The therapist listened intently, her eyes conveying empathy and understanding.

"It was him," Hope whispered, her voice laced with bitterness.

"My stalker. He'd found a way to infiltrate even the sanctuary of the stage."

As Hope spoke, the therapist scribbled notes on her pad, capturing the raw intensity of her emotions.

"I tried to push through the pain, to deliver the performance my fans deserved," Hope continued, her voice growing stronger with each word.

"But inside, I was crumbling. It took every ounce of strength to maintain the facade, to hide the fear that threatened to consume me."

The therapist nodded, acknowledging the immense courage it must have taken for Hope to persevere in the face of such adversity.

"And then there was the final performance of the tour," the therapist prompted gently, sensing the weight of the memories that lingered in the air.

Hope closed her eyes briefly, summoning the courage to revisit that fateful night.

"I wore a glove to conceal the scars, to hide the evidence of his cruelty," she explained, her voice tinged with sadness.

"But even with the disguise, the pain was unbearable. It was like... like he was haunting me, refusing to let me escape the nightmare."

As Hope spoke, the therapist leaned forward, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions.

"It sounds like a terrifying experience," the therapist murmured, her voice filled with compassion. "How have you been coping since then?"

Hope's shoulders slumped, the weight of her trauma pressing down on her like a heavy burden

. "Not well, to be honest," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

"I've been living in constant fear, unable to shake the feeling that he's still out there, waiting to strike again."

The therapist reached out, offering a reassuring touch that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"You're not alone, Hope," the therapist said softly, her voice a beacon of hope in the darkness.

"We'll work through this together, step by step, until you find the strength to reclaim your life."

Hope nodded, tears glistening in her eyes as she allowed herself to believe, if only for a moment, that healing was possible.