Page 3 of Dark Therapy
“Damien,” I began, keeping my voice even, “it takes a certain mindset to do what you do. I imagine there’s a lot you keep to yourself, a lot you don’t share with others.”
I watched him closely for any sign of vulnerability, any crack in his facade. But his expression remained inscrutable, a mask of confidence and control. I had to push past that, find a way to break through the walls he’d built around himself.
“It’s important to recognize how your profession impacts you, both positively and negatively,” I continued, determined to steer the conversation toward a more introspective place. “Understanding that is key to finding a way forward.”
He tilted his head slightly, intrigued but still guarded. “You think you can help me understand that?”
I smiled, a blend of reassurance and professionalism. “That’s the goal. But you have to be willing to engage in this process. Are you ready for that?”
For a moment, I wondered if I was in over my head. But the thrill of the challenge ignited something inside me. I was here to help him untangle the knots of his psyche, and I wouldn’t let fear dictate my approach.
Damien leaned back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, and I could feel the shift in the air. The atmosphere thickened, charged with tension as he contemplated my question. “Engage in this process?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “That sounds like a two-way street, Millie. But tell me, what happens when I decide to play by my own rules?”
His gaze held mine with a piercing intensity, and I couldn’t help but feel as though he was dissecting me just as I was attempting to dissect him. I noticed the nickname he used for me but chose to brush it off. The confident bravado in his posture suggested he was more than comfortable in this dynamic, as if he was relishing the game we were about to play.
I steadied my breath, refusing to let his amusement shake my composure. “Then I suppose we’ll see where that leads us. Therapy is about exploration—about understanding your choices and the consequences that come with them.”
He let out a low laugh, one that sent a chill down my spine. “Consequences? You think you’re qualified to talk about consequences? You’re sitting across from a hitman, and yet here you are, playing therapist like everything’s normal.”
Thejab landed harder than I’d liked to admit, but I refused to show it. I knew the risks of treating someone like him—every session came with its own set of dangers—but I couldn’t let him rattle me. I took a steadying breath, my grip on the situation firm, grounding myself in the professional distance I’d worked so hard to maintain.
“Your line of work might raise eyebrows, Damien,” I responded, keeping my voice steady. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re here to explore the choices that led you here. I’m not here to judge you; I’m here to help you understand how those choices have shaped your life.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You think you could peel back the layers of my life and find something worth saving? Or are you just curious about what makes a monster tick?”
I could feel my pulse quicken at his provocative words, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I leaned forward slightly, mirroring his intensity. “It’s not about saving anyone, Damien. It’s about understanding. And if you’re willing to be honest with yourself, we might uncover something valuable together.”
His expression shifted, the amusement flickering in his eyes replaced by something deeper—curiosity mingled with caution. For a moment, the room felt charged with a kind of unspoken agreement, a fragile bridge being built between us, however precarious.
“Honesty,” he mused, almost as if savoring the word. “That’s a tall order for someone like me, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But we can start small. What brought you here today?”
He tilted his head, considering my question. The challenge lingered in the air, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to turn the tables once more. The game was afoot, and I couldn’t help but wonder how far down the rabbit hole we might go.
Damien shifted in his seat, his expression morphing into one of contemplation as he leaned forward slightly. “You’re eager to dig deep, Millie. But let’s be real for a moment—this isn’t just about understanding. You want to know what makes me tick. The truth is, I have my fair share of demons. You could say I have a penchant for obsession.”
Hiswords hung in the air, thick with implication. There was a dark allure to what he was saying, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn into his narrative. “Obsession can manifest in many forms,” he continued, his voice low and deliberate. “For some, it’s about power; for others, it’s about control. But for me? It’s about thechase—the thrill of wanting something so badly it consumes you.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, assessing my reaction. “What do you obsess over, Damien?” I asked, determined to steer the conversation back to a more constructive path.
He smirked, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his whiskey-colored eyes. “Oh, I think you know. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the game itself. And sometimes, it’s about the one person who manages to catch my attention—the one who makes me want to chase them.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I forced myself to maintain eye contact, despite the unsettling implications. “And what does that look like for you? This obsession?” I pushed, myvoice steady, but internally, I could feel a knot forming in my stomach.
He leaned back again, his posture relaxed, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes. “It’s a feeling that gnaws at me. A need to know everything, to unravel the layers of a person until there’s nothing left to hide. When I find someone intriguing—likeyou—it’s not just a passing interest; it becomes an all-consuming focus. And you, Millie, have certainly piqued my curiosity.”
The intensity of his words lingered between us, creating a charged atmosphere that was impossible to ignore. “You speak of it as if it’s a game,” I replied, trying to remain detached. “But obsession can lead to dangerous paths. It’s not something to take lightly.”
He tilted his head, a smile curling at his lips. “Dangerous? That’s part of the allure, isn’t it? There’s something exhilarating about crossing those lines—about pushing boundaries and seeing just how far one can go before they break.”
I felt my pulse quicken, an uninvited thrill coursing through me. “And what do you hope to achieve through this obsession?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite the risks.
Damien’s gaze narrowed slightly, and for a moment, the playful banter faded into something deeper, darker. “To understand,” he replied softly, almost contemplatively. “To possess—to unravel the complexities of another person until they become an extension of me. But in your case, I have to wonder: how far are you willing to let me in?”
His question hung in the air, heavy with implication, and I realized that this was no ordinary therapy session. It was a dance on the edge of a precipice, and I was unsure how much longer I could maintain my balance.
WHERE SHADOWS MEET
