Page 5 of Dark Therapy

Her resolve hardened, and for a moment, I saw the psychologist she was—fiercely protective of her boundaries. “I’m not here to lose control, Damien. I’m here to guide you toward understanding yourself, not to join you in the depths of whatever darkness you think we share.”

Fuck, the thrill of our back-and-forth only made me want more. It was like a drug, that tension between us. The way her defiance sparked something dark in me. It wasn’t enough—no, not nearly enough. Her resistance only made me crave pushing harder. After all, this was just the fucking beginning. A game I was going to win, no matter how deep I had to drag her into it.

I leaned in closer, savoring the thrill of the chase, the way her composure held firm against my taunts. “You say you want to help me, Amelia, but let’s get real for a second. What do you really know about reality and illusion? ‘Cause I can feel it—those lines are blurry for you, too. You’re sitting there, playing the psychologist, but deep down, you’re questioning what’s real and what’s just in your head.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t flinch. “Your attempts to confuse me with useless philosophical talk won’t work.”

“Useless philosophical talk?” I chuckled, feigning offense. “That’s rich coming from a woman who spends her life trying to untangle the mess of the human psyche. Reality’s a slippery thing, don’t you think? What if I told you that your reality might just be an illusion? What if everything you thought you understood about yourself, about me, was just a facade?”

I saw the way her jaw tightened, the way she fought to keep her cool. “You’re trying to provoke me,” she replied, her voice steady, even though I could see the tension running through her shoulders. “I won’t let you manipulate the narrative. I’m here to help you untangleyourthoughts, not to play mind games.”

“Mind games are part of the package, sweetheart,” I shot back, leaning forward, letting the intensity of the moment settle in the air between us like a live wire. “You think I’m the only one who can play with perceptions? You’re as skilled as I am at dancing around truths. You know how to read between the lines, how to dissect what’s presented to you. But I can see through that calm little act, Millie. I can see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.”

She took a breath, a deliberate attempt to remain unfazed. “You might be good at manipulating people, but I’m not here to be your puppet. This session is about you, and if you want to find clarity, you need to drop the games.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Clarity? Is that what you think I’m after? Maybe I am more interested in the chaos. You talk about darkness like it’s some kind of burden, but what if it’s a playground? You’ve experienced things that shaped you, just likeI have. Don’t you want to dig into those shadows? Explore thetwistedcorners of your mind?”

“I’m not here to explore my shadows,” she responded, her tone unwavering. “I’m here to help you confront yours. So, if you want to continue this session, you need to focus on yourself, not me.”

“Ah, but there’s the rub, Millie,” I said, my voice dripping with amusement. “You can’t separate us that easily. We’re intertwined in this little dance, and I’m just getting started. You might think you have control, but I can smell the doubt, thecuriositylurking beneath your surface. You’re just as drawn to this darkness as I am. How long until you can’t resist the temptation to dive deeper?”

She locked her gaze with mine, and for a moment, the air was thick with tension,suffocating, as if it were about to crack under the weight of it. “I’m not diving anywhere, Damien. I’m standing firm on solid ground, and I refuse to let your games distract me from the goal of this session.”

“Solid ground? Really?” I chuckled, the amusement creeping into my voice like poison. “That’s cute. But the truth is, you’rebalancing on the edge of a cliff, and I can feel the wind pulling you closer to the abyss. Just admit it, Millie—you’reintriguedby the chaos I bring.”

“I’m intrigued by the human condition,” she replied, her voice calm, but there was the faintest crack—just a whisper of exasperation creeping through. “And that includes understanding people like you. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you steer the conversation.”

“Steer the conversation? Oh, darling, I’m not steering anything. I’m just throwing out bait, and I’m curious to see what you’ll bite on,” I shot back, watching her struggle to hold her ground. “You’re good at this game, but I can see the hesitation. Just imagine the possibilities if you let your guard down. We could uncoversomuch more.”

She shook her head, unwavering. “You’re not going to break me. If anything, your attempts to manipulate are only reinforcing my resolve to help you.”

“Breakyou?” I echoed, feigning innocence, though a dark laugh tugged at the edge of my words. “That’s not my intention at all. I simply wanted to see how far we could push each other.”

I watched her, her voice steady, her gaze unflinching, and I realized with a twisted amusement that coming here was never about ridding myself of this obsession. Maybe, on some level, I’dhopedfor that—a chance to untangle whatever sick fixation had taken root, to peel back the edges and examine it from a safe distance. But sitting here, facing her fire, her determination… every part of me knew I was in deeper than ever.

She was supposed to be a way out. A fucking break. Maybe even a release. But all I felt now was that I’d walked straight into the fire, and there was no coming back. Every word she spoke, every glance she cast in my direction, it just fed the obsession like gasoline to a flame. I wasn’t giving her up.

So, I leaned back, letting the smirk play across my lips, letting her think she’d won this round. But I knew better. This wasn’t a cure; it was anaddiction—one I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to break.

WHISPERS IN THE DARK

Amelia

The scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped me as I stirred my drink, glancing across the small table at Emily. She sat with her hair pulled back in a loose bun, a few errant strands framing her face, her expression one of curious attentiveness. The bustling coffee shop was a comforting backdrop, a stark contrast to the unsettling encounter I had two days prior.

“Emily,” I began, hesitating as I tried to find the right words. “I need to talk to you about my last session with Damien.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, and she leaned in closer. “The hitman?” she asked, a mix of skepticism and concern threading through her voice. “What about it?”

I took a sip of my coffee, feeling the warmth seep into my hands, trying to ground myself. “It was… different. He has this way of drawing me in, you know? Like he’s testing the boundaries of the therapeutic space.” I paused, searching for clarity amid the chaotic swirl of thoughts. “I’ve seen difficult patients before, but this is something else. He challenges my perceptions in ways I’m not entirely prepared for.”

Emily regarded me with an intensity that made me feel exposed. “What do you mean by‘challenging’?” she pressed. “Is he manipulating you? Or is it just a part of his personality?”

I chewed my lip, recalling Damien’s piercing gaze, the way his words lingered like a dark shadow. “It’s hard to explain. He questions my abilities, and talks almost as if he could sense my own past darkness.”

Emily’s expression shifted as she absorbed my words. “It sounds like he’s trying to exploit vulnerabilities, Amelia. It’s not uncommon for patients with intense backgrounds to do that, but you need to keep your guard up. This isn’t just about his issues; it’s aboutyourstoo.”

“I know,” I admitted, feeling a weight settle in my chest. “But there’s something about him that’s…compelling. I found myself questioning my own instincts during our sessions, and it’s disconcerting.”

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