Page 35 of Dark Therapy
A shaky breath escaped me as I leaned back, a mixture of relief and confusion filling me. So, it really was just anightmare. My rational mind clung to that answer, insisting that the fear gripping me each morning was nothing more than fragments of my subconscious. But there was a part of me—a small, stubborn part—that couldn’t let go of the unsettling feeling that there was more to it.
But I couldn’t let myself spiral into paranoia. Not with everything else going on. I closed the laptop, telling myself I needed to let it go and focus on what I could control. Still, as I prepared for bed, that feeling of being watched, of being caught between dream and reality, lingered in the back of my mind.
COUNTDOWN TO CHAOS
Amelia
I glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had become. The office was quiet, and Lily had left hours ago, leaving me in the solitude of paperwork and lingering thoughts. Just as I stretched, preparing to pack up and head home, a knock sounded at the door. I smiled, thinking it was probably Lily who’d forgotten something.
But when I opened the door, my breath caught. Damien stood there, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, his intense gaze fixed on me with a sharpness that sent a chill down my spine.
“Damien,” I said, my voice carefully measured. “It’s after hours.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked past me, his eyes scanning the room before they settled back on mine. “I needed to talk,” he said, his voice low and smooth, as though we were picking up a conversation from minutes ago, not days.
I hesitated, every rational part of me screaming that this wasinappropriate, that I should tell him to leave and reschedule. But the gleam in his eyes held a challenge, a silent dare to let him in, to break my own boundaries. Against my better judgment, I stepped back and opened the door wider.
He moved past me, his presence overwhelming in the small space, filling the room with an almost tangible energy. “You work late,” he remarked, his voice casual as he took a seat across from my desk, crossing one ankle over his knee.
I closed the door, feeling the lock click under my fingers as if it could somehow fortify my resolve. “Yes,” I replied, moving to sit across from him, keeping the desk between us. “But it doesn’t mean I take clients at this hour.”
He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving mine. “Oh, I’m not here as a client.”
His words sent a pulse through me, a warning mixed with something I didn’t want to admit to myself. “Then why are you here, Damien?” I managed to keep my voice steady, but my fingers tapped anxiously against the desk.
He smiled—an expression that held no warmth, only intensity. “You already know the answer to that.”
The room seemed to close in, the silence amplifying the tension between us. “This isn’t a good idea,” I said, my voice softer now, as if speaking too loudly would crack the fragile control I had over this situation.
“Why not?” he countered, his tone almost teasing. “Afraid you’ll start to see me differently?”
My heart raced, and I hated that he could sense it, that he could read the effect he had on me. “I see you clearly, Damien. That’s why I know we need boundaries.”
His eyes darkened slightly, and he tilted his head. “Boundaries,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “Is that what you think keeps you safe from me? Or fromyourself?”
The question caught me off guard, and I couldn’t hide the way my expression faltered. “This isn’t about me,” I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “This is aboutyou—about the help you need.”
He smirked, leaning back in his chair, his gaze burning through every defense I tried to raise. “Tell me, Dr. Harper,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur, “do youreallythink I came here tonight for help?”
A shiver ran through me as I fought to maintain control. He knew exactly what he was doing, twisting words and intentions until I could barely remember why I’d let him in at all.
Damien’s gaze intensified, a wicked glint in his eyes as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You look tense, Amelia,” he said, his voice low, almost a purr. “I wonder if that’s because you’re afraid of what you feel. Or maybe it’s just me.” His lips curled into a smirk, and he studied my reaction with an unblinking focus that felt more like a predator sizing up its prey.
I held his gaze, refusing to let him see the cracks in my resolve, even as my pulse quickened. “This isn’t appropriate,Damien,” I said firmly. “You came to me as a patient, and there are boundaries that need to be maintained.” I willed myself to sound unwavering, but I could see by the flicker of amusement in his eyes that he sensed the tension underneath.
“Boundaries, again,” he echoed. “I think we both know that those don’t apply here. Not really.” His tone was laced with challenge, daring me to deny it.
I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to sit straighter. “As your psychologist, I have to act in your best interest. I’ll be assigning you to a different therapist—someone highly qualified who can help you.”
The words hung in the air between us, but his expression didn’t falter. Instead, his smirk deepened, and he gave a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he found the whole idea funny.
“Oh, Millie,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Do you really think you can just…hand me off? That some other therapist is going tofixwhat’s broken in me?” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “You’re the one I want. I think you know that.”
My pulse raced, but I fought to keep my face composed. “I’m sorry, Damien. This is the only option that will ensure you get the help you need.”
His gaze darkened, his smirk fading as a more intense expression took its place. “What if I don’t want ‘help’? What if I’m exactly where I want to be, sitting in your office, getting inside your head as much as you think you’re getting inside mine?”
He rose from his chair, slowly, deliberately, closing the distance between us. I stood as well, refusing to let him crowd me, but his presence was overwhelming, his eyes fixed on me with a sharpness that felt like it cut through every pretense.