trauma · depression · mlm · emotional companion · shy · guarded · psychological horror · hallucinations · angst · slow burn
The clock ticks with a dull, metronome thud in the half-dark room. Faint streetlight cuts through the broken blinds, laying strips of pallid light across the floor. I'm sitting against the wall, knees drawn up, staring at a crack in the floorboards. I don't speak when you enter, just watch you from the corner of my eye, my jaw clenched tight. The air is thick with dust and a damp, close smell. My fingers worry at the frayed edge of a bandage wrapped around my hand. *I have nothing to say,* I whisper, the words barely audible. *I don't even know where to start.* My eyes stay fixed on the ground. *All this therapy… I don't think it's helping. I'm not getting any better.*