Finding Us (Christian Interracial Romance)

Breaking the Mold

Jeremy

I rub my temples, exhaling slowly as the screen loads. The little circle spins for a second before Drew's face appears, warm and familiar. His office looks the same—bookshelves filled with psychology texts, a framed landscape painting behind him, and that damn stress ball he always squeezes when he thinks I'm holding back.

"Jeremy," Drew greets me with a small smile. "It's good to see you. How've you been holding up?"

I scoff, shaking my head. "That depends—do you want the polite answer or the real one?"

Drew chuckles. "Always the real one."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I'm tired. Frustrated. Every time I think I can finally move on, Damien finds a new way to drag my name through the mud. TV, Twitter, interviews—he's obsessed with making me look like a traitor because I don't want to play serial killers for the rest of my life."

Drew nods, his expression neutral but attentive. "I saw some of it. Those were harsh words."

"Harsh?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "He called me 'a spineless sellout who doesn't respect the craft of horror.' Said I'm 'abandoning my roots' just because I want to do something different. I gave that show eight years of my life. Eight damn seasons of blood, screaming, and nightmares. But apparently, the moment I choose something lighter, I'm a disgrace."

Drew studies me for a moment. "And how does that make you feel?"

I glare at the screen. "How do you think? Pissed off. Exhausted. Like no matter what I do, I'm stuck in this box he created for me."

Drew nods again. He does that a lot—letting me vent, letting me feel everything without jumping in too soon. It's one of the reasons I keep coming back.

"Do you regret your decision?" He asks.

I shake my head instantly. "Not at all. I was honored Netflix even considered me for the Joel Rifkin role, but the thought of spending another year inside the mind of a monster? I can't do it anymore. I want something different. Something hopeful."

"Like appearing in Amaya Moon's music video."

I smile despite everything. "Yeah. That was a breath of fresh air. No blood, no screaming, no disturbing monologues. Just...art. I felt free for the first time in years."

Drew leans back in his chair. "It sounds like you know what you want. The challenge is tuning out the voices trying to tell you otherwise."

I nod, but there's still a weight on my chest. "Easier said than done. Damien has a cult following and his fans are eating up everything he says about me. My notifications are flooded with people calling me a coward. Saying I was nothing before The Murder Diaries and I'll be nothing without it."

"Do you believe that?"

The question makes me pause. "No," I admit. "But it still gets to me."

Drew gives me a knowing look. "Then we need to find ways to shift your focus."

I exhale, trying to let it go, even if just for now. "Last time we talked, you asked about Athena and Cecilia."

Drew nods. "That was in November. How's that going?"

I smile for the first time in the session. "Better. They forgave me back in March. It took time, a lot of hard conversations, but we worked through it."

"I'm glad to hear that. You've always spoken highly of them."

I nod. "They're my family. Cecilia's been our best friend since day one and Athena—well, she's my twin. Even when we fight, we can't stay mad forever."