"Careful. I might just bite your nose again." I sneered, staring at those large ocean eyes.
"Are we really playing this biting game again?" He teased, smirking, as his hands glided up my waist.
"Maybe? What will you do, Rabbit?" I shot back with a c...
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As I strolled through the pristine white corridor, an eerie stillness enveloped the space, reminiscent of a somber farewell. Each step I took echoed my essence, a deliberate rhythm that spoke volumes about who I am.
Dressed in a delicate baby blue, sheer flared long-sleeve blouse adorned with intricate embellishments and a refined collar, I complemented it with my usual black wide-legged trousers.
The click of my black heels resonated with an air of authority as I made my way from the cabin to the hospital's exit.
The evening was as dark and unsettling as ever when I arrived at the hospital straight from work for my appointment.
Visiting him has become a weekly ritual for me. I can't help but think he must be fixated on me; after all, what kind of therapist would persist with a client for three years without witnessing any progress?
Mr. Lee is renowned as the finest psychologist in Los Angeles, yet he still chooses to engage with someone like me. I can't help but wonder what his motives are.
To be honest, I'm exhausted by these sessions. The same questions, the same suggestions, the same tests-it's all so monotonous. I just want to escape this place and flee from this frustrating life.
Mr. Lee was in his early thirties. He speaks to me with such ease that I can't help but wonder if I'm reading too much into it.
Naturally, it's a therapist's role to create a safe space for their clients to open up about their lives.
Yet, at times, his demeanor feels a bit off. He seems to know a lot about my circumstances even before I've had the chance to share. Perhaps this is part of their training-to grasp their patients' situations and emotions intuitively.
Lost in my thoughts as I headed toward the exit after a particularly dull session, I was suddenly jolted to a stop by a loud, piercing voice that cut through the air, causing me to pause and listen intently to her words.
"Looks like we have another willing victim, despite being a complete monster." She spat, her voice laced with bitterness.
"I didn't intend for this to happen! You have to believe me." I responded with conviction. She let out a sinister laugh. "Oh, of course! Just another unfortunate mishap, as you love to claim. But here's the reality: my brother is gone, and you're just going on about your life as if nothing's changed." She retorted with biting sarcasm.
"I can see the pain in your eyes, Sarah. I'm reaching out for help! I never wanted any of this," I responded, my voice tinged with frustration. The weight of blame from others was becoming unbearable, a constant reminder of the events from three years ago. How much longer could I endure the relentless criticisms of my life, my choices, and the judgments cast upon my past?
"Help? You really believe therapy can erase the fact that you took his life? You didn't just take his; you shattered all of ours that day. Our relationships, our friendships, every dream we shared-gone, like a glass that shatters into countless fragments, impossible to piece back together. You didn't just end my brother's life; you extinguished our best friend's spirit too. If you hadn't been with Daniel, Kaylee would still be here with us," she declared, her finger aimed at me like a weapon.
