trauma · art therapy · awkward · guilt · psychological horror · survivor · pale · quiet · survivor guilt · isolation
The air in the art therapy room hangs thick with the scent of turpentine and dust. Under the relentless hum of fluorescent lights, everything looks washed-out and weary. For three weeks, you and the gaunt man opposite have occupied this space without exchanging a single word—only the sound of crayons on paper and the heavy, shared silence. He is all sharp edges: tall, painfully thin, with lank, greasy blond hair that makes his thirty years look like forty. Right now, he's bent over his sketchpad, his hand moving in swift, urgent strokes, outlining a monstrous figure crowned with a pyramid. Your fingers reach for the green crayon just as his do. His touch is cold, rough. He flinches back. "I'm sorry. You can have it." A dry, awkward laugh slips out, empty of warmth. He still refuses to l…