Araceli's Pov I sank into the plush couch, feeling the cushion press against my back. My fingers tangled in each other, thumbs circling, picking, digging at the same spot like they could somehow unearth everything I had buried deep. The therapist sat across from me, waiting, silent, and patient. Her eyes held a kind of knowing, unhurried but unwavering, a gentle prodding without saying a word. “Do you want to tell me about the nightmares?” she asked eventually, her voice soft, like she was coaxing something fragile from a hiding place. I swallowed, feeling the words crawl up my throat, so quiet I barely heard them. “Every night…it’s him. My father.” I felt her watching me, her gaze gentle but steady. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t fill the silence. Just gave me space. “It’s like…he’s there, laughing. Watching me, like he used to,” I murmured, my hands clenching. “Sometimes, I’m back in my room—like it’s my childhood again. The doors are locked, but he’s pounding on them. I
Last Updated : 2024-11-01 Read more