𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭𝔂| ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 4

Phantoms and Therapy| Request

AN: In this request, Y/N and Leon are both agents who are forced to go to therapy after encountering terrifying phantoms and ghosts at an abandoned asylum where they were both sent one after another. Their bond over being shunned for their fears forces them together, until the ghosts of their past appear once more...

This is definetly more on the horror/ paranormal side of things, but I've included some 'Umbrella' meddling just to give it the RE feel. Also, both Y/N and Leon do share one cigarette in this, but that's it. 

-----------------------------------------------------

The rainfall pounds against the roof of my car as I sit outside of the therapy centre's parking lot. I stare through the window, glaring at the front doors, eyes narrowed as my breath huffs out in yet another sigh. I'm not crazy, I know it, yet the government thinks otherwise. I was sent to an abandoned mental asylum a couple months ago, where rumours of bioweapons were lurking in the shadows, as a capable and brave agent, I was sent to investigate and put a stop to the local legends of 'hauntings' and 'apparitions', however instead of it being a simple job, I ended up seeing more than what I expected. A shiver runs through me at the memories of those icy fingers clawing at me. My screams piercing the halls as I tried to escape. The unexplained bruises on my ankles and wrists when I'd finally escaped. The nightmares that plague me, I can barely sleep longer than two or three hours per night. I questioned my own sanity for a long time, I tried to control my fears, but no matter what I did, no matter what I took to forget...the ghosts never left me. 

Everyone thinks I'm nuts. They assume my imagination got the better of me, and that I'd finally had some kind of breakdown. They're wrong, but I can't keep pleading for anyone to believe me anymore- so therapy it is. I take a deep breath, then finally venture out of the safety of my car and towards the building. The rain soaks me from head to toe, so by the time I'm actually inside and seated within the session, I'm shivering and chattering like some cartoon character. The other ex-agents watch me with anxious faces, they've all got problems of their own, but I would bet my life that none have witnessed the same horrors as I have. I cross my arms over my chest as the leading therapist, Dr Collins, smiles warmly and introduces the session, I stifle a yawn, and zone out. Instead of hearing her guidance and useless meditation techniques- breathing in and out isn't helpful when you're being strangled by something you can't grab to remove- I stare outside, watching the rain throw itself to the ground. I stare and stare, my sleepless nights catching up to me as everything blurs and the shadows outside begin to look like people. I blink, rubbing my eyes, and suddenly they are people. Creepy, sullen faces press against the windows, jaws slack as they stare into the depths of my soul. 

I stand up, heart pounding as I stumble back and rub my eyes, noticing the apparitions are gone. I try to calm my breathing, but the faces still haunt me even in the bright, fluorescent light. Everyone in the circle stares at me, expressions of pity and confusion tossed at me like scraps. My skin prickles with the false understanding, their sympathy oozes off of them like a suffocating slime. I swallow back retorts and harsh words, and sit back down, eyes glued to the floor as Dr Collins reaches out and pats my shoulder. "It's alright, we understand." She softly says, giving me a small smile as if showing me she's on my side. I open and close my mouth, an argument on the tip of my tongue, but then she adds "Why don't you tell us your story? I promise this is a safe space." I panic and shake my head, but when the doctor keeps watching me, I realise I've got no choice. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palm as I begin to recount my time at the asylum and what I saw. My voice wavers, sounding small and scared as I try to convey the terror I felt- still feel- as best I can. Afterwards, Dr Collins nods slowly. "We all tend to make up stories to deal with the real pain-" 

I scoff, my previous vulnerabilities now replaced with defensiveness. I sit up straighter, "I'm not making shit up, I really did see them! You don't understand how hard it is to live with the...the phantoms! I can't sleep without feeling hands around my neck. I can barely shower without seeing their faces in the mirror. I almost had a car accident coming here because a ghost tried to play chicken in the fucking road!" I'm shouting now, breath coming short as the ex-agents' eyes widen and avoid mine, as if my kind of crazy is contagious. I feel my eyes prick with tears as I look at them all, but one pair of eyes seem different. I stare into the blue, seeing a hint of understanding and shock, it steals my breath away as the blonde man, Leon Kennedy if I remember the introductions, tilts his head at me.