Page 15 of Dark Therapy
His hands glided back up, his fingers brushing against my bare skin, and then he was there—right at my ear again, his breath hot and jagged. He lingered, letting the silence growthick, feeding off my fear like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
“Run,” he whispered, his voice slithering into my mind. “Run like you did back then. You remember, don’t you? Running, desperate, with nowhere to go.”
I felt the words seep into me, dragging memories to the surface I’d tried so hard to bury. My legs trembled, frozen with fear, but I knew what he was asking. He wanted me toreliveit, to play the game he’d crafted in his twisted mind.
“If I catch you…” His voice trailed off, leaving a chilling promise lingering in the air. “Well, we both know there will beconsequences.”
My breath caught as the room seemed to close in around me. His presence loomed, dark and overpowering, filling every inch of space, leaving no room for escape. I forced myself to swallow, my mind racing as I took a shaky step forward, feeling the cold floor beneath my bare feet. The urge to flee surged through me, primal, instinctive.
But I knew he was waiting, watching, feeding off every second of my hesitation. The darkness seemed alive, thick and suffocating, and somewhere behind me, I could almost feel his gaze piercing into my back.
I stumbled forward, my bare feet slapping against the wet, icy floor, the sound echoing in the darkness. The room seemed endless, stretching into blackness that swallowed me whole. My head was spinning, and each step felt heavier, as though the weight of the nightmare was pressing down, making it harder to breathe, to think, to run. My legs were shaking, muscles aching as I pushed forward, desperate to escape, yet barely able to keep myself upright.
A few steps in, my foot slipped on the slick floor, and I went down, my knees crashing into the concrete. A shudder ran through me as I realized he was still there—still watching, still waiting.
Behind me, I could hear him. His footsteps were slow, calculated, a haunting rhythm that echoed in the silence. He didn’t hurry; he knew I was his to find, whenever he chose. The deliberate pace, each step punctuated by a pause, filled the airwith a sickening dread that twisted in my chest. He wanted me to feel the inevitability of his approach.
I scrambled to my feet, every nerve screaming as I forced myself forward, slipping again, barely able to keep my balance. My vision was blurry, my pulse thundering in my ears. I didn’t dare look back, but I could feel his presence growing, each of his measured steps a reminder that he was closing in, slowly tightening the noose.
I tripped again, my body crashing to the ground, my hands scraping against the rough concrete. I stifled a cry, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. I forced myself to look up, my gaze frantically searching for any sign of a door, a way out, a sliver of light—anything. But all I saw was darkness, the silence closing in around me, broken only by his footsteps growing closer, louder, unrelenting.
He was toying with me, enjoying the chase. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, my chest heaving as I struggled to push down the rising panic. I tried to push myself up, but my legs buckled under me, and I collapsed again, feeling utterly trapped.
Then I heard his voice, soft but terrifyingly close. “Tired already, Millie?”
The words twisted in the dark, mocking, dripping with satisfaction. I felt a sob rising in my throat as I forced myself to move, crawling now, desperately trying to put any distance between us. But I knew, deep down, that he was right behind me, every step a reminder that he was closing in, that escape was nothing more than a cruel illusion.
My head spun as I clawed at the ground, my hands slipping across the damp concrete. Each pulse of pain through my body blurred the line between nightmare and reality, and my vision wavered, every detail twisting in the darkness. I knew he was still behind me. I could feel his presence, like a weight pressing down on my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.
“Tell me, Millie,” his voice slithered through the silence, low and chillingly soft. “What happened back then?”
The words curled around me, taunting, pulling at the edges of memories I’d buried, memories I never wanted to resurface. I swallowed back a sob, forcing myself forward, inch by inch, tooweak to stand, too desperate to stop. The floor was slick and cold beneath me, numbing my skin as I crawled.
“What was it like, running back then?” he murmured, his footsteps slow and deliberate, echoing through the dark. “Did you feel this same panic? Did you think you could escape?”
My heart raced as I choked down the terror building in my chest, the past clawing its way up, threatening to consume me. His voice was too close, so close I could almost feel the chill of his breath as he closed in. I pushed myself harder, my fingers digging into the cold concrete.
“Did youscream?” His voice was a whisper now, a sinister caress that sent chills down my spine. “Did youbegfor them to stop?”
Tears burned in my eyes as I crawled faster, each word twisting the knife deeper.
“Come on, Millie,” he coaxed, his tone almost gentle, mocking. “Tell me what happened. Let me hear it.”
My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more shallow than the last. His words were relentless, digging into old wounds, ripping them open one by one. And as he continued his haunting questions, that slow, torturous chase through the dark, the walls began to close in.
Damien’s footsteps stayed steady behind me, unhurried. He wasn’t trying to catch me — not yet. He wanted me to keep going, wanted me to feel the desperation tightening in my chest with every inch I managed to put between us.
I swallowed hard, willing myself not to break, but his words sank deeper, poking at the fractures inside me.
“Tell me, Amelia.” His voice was low, chillingly calm. “Did you try to fight back then? Or did you just…acceptit?”
I bit back a scream, pressing my lips together so tightly it hurt. I wanted to scream, to push his voice out of my head. But I knew it wouldn’t stop him. He was relentless, merciless, as he took apart each wall I had spent years building. I pushed myself harder, my fingers slipping against the wet concrete as I struggled to gain ground, even if it was just an inch. Just something to keep me moving forward, away from him.
He was close enough now that I could feel the air shift as he bent down, his presence suffocating. His hand reached out, tracing along my shoulder, his fingers cold against my skin.
“Come on, Millie,” he whispered, leaning close to my ear. “I saw it in your eyes —youremember. Every bit of it, don’t you?”
My body went rigid, my heart racing, the memories flaring up with painful clarity. I pressed my hands against my temples, as if I could force them away, as if I could make myself forget. But his words burrowed deeper, forcing every image, every sound, every scream back to the surface.