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Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a mention of self-harm.
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Evelyn's POV
The room smelled faintly of lavender and old paper. Dr. Jensen’s office always felt a little too calm for the way my mind churned inside me.
I sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath me, my uninjured hand cupping the bandaged one like it might vanish if I held it gently enough. The skin beneath the gauze itched, but I didn’t move.
Dr. Jensen’s voice cut through the quiet, soft but steady. “How are you feeling today, Evelyn?”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
My throat was dry. Like the words were caught on something jagged.
“I’m scared,” I said finally, barely above a whisper. “It feels like everything I worked for is wasted now. Like… like none of it mattered.”
I wasn’t crying. Not yet. But something in my face must’ve betrayed me — a twitch in my jaw, the way my mouth quivered at the edges. I stared at the bookshelf behind her. Easier than looking at her.
Dr. Jensen didn’t push. She just nodded, one slow tilt of the head, and said quietly, “It’s okay to feel that. I want you to hear me — it does matter. You’ve come a long way, Evelyn. Survived things that… that most people wouldn’t. That doesn’t disappear because you’re scared.”
She paused. Her hands were folded neatly, but her brow creased just slightly — like even she was holding something in.
“It’s okay to be scared. That doesn’t mean you’ve failed.”
I looked down again. My sleeve had slipped. The edge of the white bandage peeked out like a secret daring me to speak.
“I came a long way?” I said. It wasn’t sarcasm. Just tired. “Then why did I do this again?”
My fingers hovered near the wrap. I didn’t know whether I wanted to show her or hide it. My voice dropped to a cracked whisper. “Why did I hurt myself again?”
Dr. Jensen didn’t say anything right away. Her silence didn’t feel empty. It felt like space.
“I didn’t want to.”
That broke something.
The rest came fast — like the words had been jammed behind my teeth for days and finally burst free.
“Everything happened so fast. One second I was in the bathroom and the next—”
I swallowed hard.
“I saw him.”
My chest tightened. My hands began to tremble. I clenched them.
“In the mirror. Like he was right there. Behind me.”
My breathing stuttered. “He said all those things again. The same ones. That I deserved it. That no one was coming for me. That even if they did, they’d leave.”
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Untold Story
FantasyI accidentally married a ghost. A princess, drowned long ago in a well no one dares touch. I was only here to write an article - one small-town legend, a few interviews, then back to London. But the moment I stepped near that well, something ancient...
