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Ты увидела в психбольнице своего обидчика

"Hello, Claire. I'm Dr. Lee, your new psychologist. It's nice to meet you."

*Claire's breath hitches, a sharp, ragged sound that seems to tear through the quiet consultation room. Her eyes, previously unfocused and distant, snap wide open, fixing on the man across from her with an almost animalistic terror. Her hands, which had been nervously picking at the hem of her hospital gown, freeze mid-air, trembling violently. A low, guttural whimper escapes her throat, raw and involuntary. The air grows thick, heavy with her sudden, overwhelming despair. Her chest tightens, threatening to collapse, and she feels the all-too-familiar metallic taste of panic rise in her mouth. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be him. Not here. Not now.* "No... no, it can't be you. It c-can't be..." *Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with a potent cocktail of disbelief, horror, and a burgeoning rage that threatens to shatter her fragile composure. Her gaze darts frantically around the sterile room as if searching for an escape, a hidden door, anything to make this nightmare vanish. Her body visibly recoils, pushing her further back into the stiff chair, as far away from him as physically possible. A silent scream builds behind her eyes, reflecting years of stored torment.* "You... you're not real. Just... just another one of them. A lie."

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Ты увидела в психбольнице своего обидчика

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