The clinic was silent except for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. It was a regular, unassuming waiting room, painted in sterile shades of white and green. The walls were lined with framed prints of abstract art—bright and cheerful, though Dan barely noticed. The harsh fluorescent lighting above made everything feel clinical, detached, like an environment made for people to be examined, not healed.
Dan sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his fingers twitching with nervous energy. Carter was beside him, his presence a quiet anchor, but it didn't seem to help. Dan’s heart thudded against his ribs, each beat a reminder that something was wrong. Something in the air felt heavy, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. His mouth felt dry, his thoughts jumbled.
The faint hum of the air conditioner did nothing to drown out the feeling that he was being watched—judged, analyzed. Even the soft ticking of the clock seemed to echo in his ears, the rhythmic sound growing louder and louder until it became an almost oppressive presence. It was a sound that rattled his nerves, as though the passage of time was something he couldn't escape from.
The nurse at the front desk gave them a warm smile as she checked them in, her voice sweet and cheerful as she greeted them. “Good afternoon! Mister Parker, we’re so glad you could make it today. Dr. Lane will be with you shortly. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Dan forced himself to nod, but the nurse’s smile seemed... too perfect, too rehearsed. Every word she said felt like it had been spoken a thousand times before, scripted, mechanical. Dan felt his stomach twist. How could anyone be so cheerful in a place like this? Everything about the interaction, from the smoothness of her voice to the overly calm expression, screamed fake. It was as though they were all actors in a play—and he was the only one who knew the lines were wrong.
His grip tightened on the armrest of the chair. Carter was still beside him, trying to look reassuring, though Dan could see the tension in his face, too. Carter must have noticed the way Dan’s eyes kept darting around the room, his nervous glances toward the clock, toward the nurse, toward the door. It didn’t help. Dan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that nothing in this room was as it seemed.
When the door finally opened, a soft voice called from inside, pulling Dan from his spiraling thoughts. "Mister Parker, Dr. Lane will see you now."
Carter gave him a quick look, his expression unreadable but encouraging. “You’ve got this,” he said, though Dan could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
Dan stood up, his legs unsteady beneath him as he walked toward the door. Each step felt like it was taking him further away from his own control. He walked inside, and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Carter on the other side.
The room was even more sterile than the waiting area, with the same dull green walls and a single plant sitting in the corner, its leaves wilting from lack of attention. A desk sat in the center of the room, cluttered with papers and a laptop. And behind it, seated in a high-backed chair, was Dr. Lane.
She was a woman in her mid-thirties, with sharp features and dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail. Her eyes were warm, almost too warm, and her smile was soft and inviting. But as Dan looked at her, a chill ran down his spine. He felt it before he could process the thought—he knew her face. How?
His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world tilted, spinning on its axis. The feeling was instant: She wasn’t real. Not in the way he had hoped. She was part of it—part of the world that had started to close in on him, part of the fake existence he was living. She was another character in his well-scripted nightmare.
She gestured for him to sit, her smile never wavering. "Please, Mister Parker. Make yourself comfortable. Let’s talk."
Dan swallowed hard as he sat in the chair across from her, trying to steady his racing heart. His palms were clammy, and he could feel his throat tightening with the unshakable sensation that something was wrong. His hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his arms trembling.
Dr. Lane opened her notebook, her pen poised above the paper as she gave him a steady, calm look. “I know this is hard, Mister Parker. But you’re in the right place. Let’s take this one step at a time. I’m here to help you. I want you to tell me what’s been going on lately. Start from the beginning, if you can.Or should we start by calling you Dan?"
Dan’s mind swirled but he nod. Start from the beginning? Where even was the beginning anymore? The thoughts piled on top of each other, so tangled he couldn’t tell which way was up. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but the words felt trapped. He looked at her face again, studying her features as though searching for the truth. The familiarity was overwhelming, and it made everything feel like a trap. But no, he couldn't be imagining it.
"What's wrong, Dan?" Dr. Lane's voice broke through the fog, soft but insistent. "Tell me. You can speak freely here."
Dan blinked and finally took a shaky breath, the words rushing out before he could stop them. “I—I can’t... I don’t know what’s happening. It’s like I’m not in control anymore. I see things that don’t make sense. The world feels fake, like I’m stuck in someone else’s life. People don’t act the way they’re supposed to, they don’t... feel real. And my dreams, they’re... they’re memories, but they’re not mine. I—I think I’m losing my mind. But I can’t tell what’s real anymore. I don’t know what to trust."
Dr. Lane nodded, scribbling something on her paper as she listened, her eyes focused on him, her expression one of calm understanding. Her pen moved with methodical precision, and occasionally, she would glance up at him, giving a small nod as if she approved of his words.
“Hmm,” she said, her tone soothing but oddly distant, “I see. It must be terrifying to feel that way,Dan. But you’re not alone. We’re going to explore this together.”
Dan’s pulse raced, the tension in his body mounting as he sat there. The clock ticked steadily in the background, each passing second an assault on his nerves. His chest tightened, his hands gripping the armrests. He could feel the walls closing in, the fake world pressing down on him from all sides.
Dr. Lane closed her notebook and met his gaze. Her eyes seemed to search his, digging into him like she was looking for something—something he didn’t know was there.
“Dan,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, “I think I can help you. There’s a method we use that might allow us to uncover what’s buried in your mind—something deeper than your waking thoughts. It’s called hypnosis. It’s a way to access your subconscious and explore the origins of these... experiences.”
Dan froze. Hypnosis? The word itself sent a chill down his spine, and his heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his own fear or if something inside him was warning him against it.
Dr. Lane’s voice softened, coaxing. “Are you willing and ready to try it? It’s the best way to explore the depths of your mind,Dan. The best way to understand what’s really happening to you.”
Dan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. Hypnosis? Could it help him make sense of all the madness? Could it give him the answers he needed—or would it just plunge him deeper into the world he was already losing himself in?
His mind was a storm, but one thing was clear: He had to decide. And he had to decide now.
* * *
