𝐏𝐲𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 || Liam Dunbar

- 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 -

California, Beacon Hills

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The psychologist's office had a sense of clinical sterility. The walls were painted a soft, neutral beige, and the furniture was sparse and functional. A small potted dern sat in the corner, however it looked like it hadn't been watered in a while. The only other decorations were a few framed degrees and certificates hung on the wall, as well as an outdated calender hanging lopsided. The overall effect was dull and uninspiring, as if the room itself was designed to reflect the tediousness of therapy.

Carmen stared across the desk at her psychologist, she couldn't maintain her cold stare for as long as she hoped and quickly looked down at her sneakers. "So, Carmen, I hear you have had a traumatic experience you'd like to resolve." The psychologist spoke up, her fingers roving over the keyboard on her desk. Carmen mentally cursed her Dad for forcing her to go here. She huffed, "Yeah."

Her eyes tore from the computer and she pursed her lips, turning to Carmen in her spinning desk chair. "So, tell me what happened that night." She urged.

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The night was still and quiet, rain thundered down on the surroundings, but Carmen paid no mind to it as she set off on her run. The street lamps cast a dim glow, creating shadows that danced across the empty sidewalks. The silence was only broken by the soft thud of her footsteps on the pavement. She felt a sense of unease as she jogged through the neighborhood, the occasioanl rustling of leaves and the distant sound of cars creating an eerie atmosphere.

The familiar landmarks of her home suddenly seemed strange and foreign in the darkness, making her feel slightly unsettled. As she pushed herself to keep going, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her.

Carmen jogged further, soon reaching the edge of the wooded area, Beacon Hills Nature Preserve. The trees loomed tall and dark, their branches casting long shadows on the ground. The light from the street lamps faded away, leaving the surroundings in near darkness.

She shivered, pulling out her phone and turning on the flashlight. The beam illuminated a narrow path ahead, but the shadows loomed just beyond the reach of the light. A sense of paranoia crept up on her as she listened intently to each distant, irrelevant sound. She wasn't alone in the woods.

Despite her fear, Carmen pressed on, her footteps now silent in the soft loam of the forest floor. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the scurrying of small creatures in the underbrush. She felt a sense of foreboding, like something was stalking her from the shadows.

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"Then, I... uh, I don't remember." She mumbled, the psychologist watched her intensely. "Are you sure, Carmen?" She asked, her question sending her body into sort of a paralysis. She swallowed, raising her head.

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Carmen woke up with a start, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She found herself in a small hole in the ground, she couldn't remember how she had gotten there. She was confused and terrified, thick, black liquid seeped into her shirt. She wiped her mouth with her arm, the substance seemed to have been coming from her mouth. She tried to sit up, but found that her body felt weak and shaky, and she had a stinging pain in the side of her neck.