Page 9 of Dark Therapy
As I ventured deeper into the library, I found myself in the psychology section. My professional curiosity pulled me in, and I scanned the titles, considering which one might offer me insights or inspiration. I picked up a few books, flipping through the pages, their wisdom beckoning to me.
But as I began to immerse myself in a particularly intriguing chapter, an overwhelming sensation washed over me—an all-too-familiar wave ofdreadthat I thought I had long buried. Suddenly, the words on the page blurred, and I felt an unsettling shift in the atmosphere. The library around me faded, and I was thrust into a scene from my past, a vivid memory that clawed its way back into my consciousness.
The books slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor as I stumbled backward, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I pressed my back against the cool, wooden shelf, desperately seeking stability as the world spun around me. It was like being trapped in a distorted reflection of reality, one where the air grew thick with a suffocating weight, and my surroundings became shrouded in shadows.
In this fragmented memory, I found myself standing in a dimly lit room, the walls peeling and worn, their color faded to an unsettling shade of gray. The distant sound of muffled voices echoed around me, but I couldn’t make out the words. Panic surged through me, a reminder of a fear I thought I had conquered long ago.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I turned my head instinctively. The shadows seemed to dance at the edges of my vision, teasing me with glimpses of something lurking just beyond my reach. I felttrapped, caught in a moment where time stood still, and I was helpless to escape.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memory to vanish, but instead, vivid images assaulted me: a door creaking open, the scent of something acrid in the air, a sensation of cold metal pressing against my skin. Each detail sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through my veins, reminding me that I was stillhaunted.
Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring my vision as I struggled to breathe through the tightness in my chest. “No,” I whispered, forcing the word out, as if saying it aloud would banish the memory back to the dark corners of my mind. “Not again.”
With every ounce of willpower I could muster, I opened my eyes, willing myself to return to the present. The library shelves came back into focus, the reality of my surroundings grounding me. I wasnotthat scared child anymore; I was an adult, a psychologist, asurvivor. But the tremors of fear still clawed at my insides, reminding me that healing was not linear.
I knelt down, hurriedly collecting the fallen books, my hands shaking as I placed them back on the shelf. The familiar scent of paper and ink provided a fleeting comfort, yet I couldn’t shake the lingering chill that enveloped me. I had thought I was free from those memories, that I had moved past the trauma. But as the flashback faded, I realized that some scars ran deeper than I had ever acknowledged.
Shaken, I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to focus on the here and now. I wouldn’t let the shadows consume me.Not today.
The early morning light streamed through the large windows of my office, illuminating the space and casting soft shadows across the room. I had always loved how the light transformed the sterile walls into something warm and inviting, but today it felt like a stark contrast to the turmoil still swirling inside me.
I locked the door behind me, the click echoing louder than usual. My heart raced as I made my way to my desk. I could still feel the chill of that dark room, the oppressive weight of fear pressing down on me. I had convinced myself that I was pastthat, that I had dealt with my trauma, but the flashback had ripped open old wounds, reminding me that healing was a far more complex journey than I’d thought.
I set my bag down with a shaky breath, the leather cool against my palm. Taking a moment to collect myself, I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds around me—the quiet hum of the heating system, the distant chirping of birds outside, and the soft rustle of leaves from the trees lining the street. I needed to ground myself, to find my center before my first client arrived.
I poured a cup of coffee, its rich aroma filling the air and providing a welcome distraction. The warmth seeped into my hands as I cradled the mug, inhaling deeply. I had always relied on coffee as my morning ritual, but today, it felt more like a lifeline.
I leaned against the counter, allowing the steam to fog my glasses for a moment, hiding behind the veil as I tried to push away the remnants of my nightmare. I couldn’t afford to be shaken when my clients arrived. They needed me to be strong, focused, and present. But how could I offer that when I was still wrestling with my own demons?
Glancing at the clock, I realized I had some time before my first appointment. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to let go of the anxiety that tightened my chest. I opened my laptop, determined to dive into the paperwork that had been piling up. Maybe immersing myself in my work would help clear my mind.
The door creaked open, breaking me from my reverie. Lily entered, her cheerful energy filling the room like a burst of sunlight. “Good morning, Amelia! You’re here early,” she said, her bright smile instantly lifting my spirits.
“Morning, Lily,” I replied, forcing a smile in return. “Just trying to catch up on some things.”
She glanced at me, her brow furrowing slightly. “Are you okay? You look a bit… off.”
I shook my head, not wanting to burden her with my thoughts. “I’m fine. Just had a rough night, that’s all.”
Lily nodded, her eyes still searching mine. “Well, if you need anything or just want to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I said, grateful for her kindness.
As she settled into her desk, I took a moment to collect myself. I couldn’t let my worries overshadow the work I was meant to do today. I was Amelia Harper, a psychologist dedicated to helping others heal. But deep down, the echoes of my past lingered, reminding me that sometimes the healer needed healing too.
As I settled back into my chair, I glanced at the clock. It was nearly time for my next appointment. Just as I was gathering my thoughts, the door opened, and Vicky Davis, a bright young woman in her late twenties, stepped into the office. She had a warm smile that instantly lightened the atmosphere, a contrast to the heaviness I had felt earlier.
“Good morning, Dr.Harper! Hope you’re having a good day,” she said cheerfully as she took a seat.
“Hi, Vicky! I am, thank you. How about you?” I asked, genuinely interested in her well-being.
“Busy, but good!” She laughed lightly, brushing her short, blond hair behind her ear. “Work has been hectic, but I managed to squeeze in some time for a hike this weekend. It was so refreshing to get out into nature.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, leaning in. “Where did you go?”
“Just a local trail,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “But it was beautiful. I love how peaceful it gets out there. I was able to just breathe and forget about everything for a while. I even saw some deer!”
I smiled, enjoying her infectious energy. “That sounds like a perfect escape. Getting outside can really help clear your mind, especially when you’re feeling overwhelmed.”