Page 7 of Dark Therapy
A dull ache pulsed through my temples as I blinked into nothingness, realizing my eyes were covered. My breaths came fast and shallow, sharp against the oppressive silence that surrounded me. Darkness stretched endlessly, thick and consuming, pressing against me like a weight I couldn’t shake. I tried to lift my hands to peel away whatever was covering my eyes, but I couldn’t move them. They were bound tightly, along with my legs, which felt immobilized and trapped against the cold metal of a chair.
My head throbbed, and a nauseating dizziness washed over me, clouding any sense of clarity. Each pulse echoed louder, mingling with the faintest creak of the chair as I struggled—an eerie reminder of my confinement.
I took a slow, trembling breath, trying to steady myself and gather my thoughts.Think, Amelia.Assess.Analyze. But the usual calm of logic felt just beyond reach, slipping through my mind like sand.
In the distance, I heard the faintest sound—a drip, steady and slow, the only indication that there was a world beyond this dark void. Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, but I forced it down, swallowing hard as I tried to focus. The air felt damp, and a subtle metallic scent lingered in it, sharp and cold, sending a chill through me.
I had no idea where I was or how I had gotten here. There was nothing to anchor me, nothing to grasp onto except the overwhelming sensation ofentrapment. Had I been drugged? The haziness, the disorientation—it felt too vivid, too unsettlingly real to be just a dream.
A sharp, metallic sound pierced the silence—a slow, deliberate scrape against the walls. The sound cut through the darkness, sending a shiver down my spine. I stilled, holding my breath, my senses sharpening in the dark.
Footsteps followed, slow and measured, circling me with unnerving precision. The person—whoever they were—was close. I could hear the deliberate rhythm of their steps, the echo of shoes against the floor, heavy and unhurried. My heart pounded in my chest, frantic against the silence, matching the maddening scrape of metal.
I strained against my bindings, but they held firm. The footsteps continued, coming closer, then moving away, weaving around me in a taunting dance, drawing out my fear like a predator savoring its prey. I wanted to shout, to demand answers, but something kept me quiet. It felt like a game—one I didn’t understand but instinctively knew I couldn’t win on my own terms.
A few breaths passed, and the sound stopped. The silence that followed was even more unsettling, thick and heavy in the air. I swallowed, every sense heightened, waiting, bracing. The footsteps picked up again, slow, deliberate, closer this time, the sound of metal dragging along the wall echoing like a twisted serenade.
The sounds halted, plunging everything into an eerie stillness. I held my breath, my pulse hammering in the silence. Every nerve was taut, on edge, bracing for something—anything.
Then, cold metal pressed against my cheek, tracing a slow, unhurried path along my skin. I flinched, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the darkness. The object—whatever it was—slid down, grazing my jaw, then my neck, moving with a precision that was both chilling and deliberate. My body tensed, every instinct screaming to pull away, but I was bound, powerless to escape the icy touch.
“Who are you?” I forced out, my voice barely a whisper but strained with urgency. “What… what do you want?”
No response. Only silence, thick and oppressive.
The metal continued its journey, gliding over my collarbone, pressing down just enough for me to feel its weight. My heart raced, pounding against the confines of my chest. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself, to regain some semblance of control.
“What is this? Why are you doing this?” My questions tumbled out, each one meeting the same unyielding silence.
The metal slipped down to my arm, tracing lines across my skin with slow, torturous intent. It wasn’t meant to hurt—not yet—but it was enough to make me feel completely at the mercy of whoever wielded it.
The silence dragged on, each second drawing my nerves tighter, endless and suffocating. I couldn’t see anything beyond the blackness surrounding me, couldn’t hear anything but my own shallow breaths. But I could feel it—the constant, unsettling pressure of the metal tracing lines along my arm, over my chest, lingering as ifsavoringthe touch.
I swallowed, forcing the words out again, though my voice wavered. “What… what do you want from me? If this is supposed to scare me, congratulations. You’ve done it.”
Nothing. Not even a breath from the figure hidden in the darkness.
The metal shifted to my shoulder, gliding downward, moving slowly, almost lazily, as if they had all the time in the world tomake their point. I clenched my jaw, fighting the instinct to recoil, every muscle coiled in resistance.
Desperation crept into my tone as I tried again. “This… this game, whatever you’re playing—it won’t work. I’ve… I’ve been throughworse.”
But even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure if I believed them. Whoever was holding me here, whoever was in control, knew exactly how to unnerve me. And they enjoyed it.
Then, just as suddenly, the metal lifted, leaving a prickling coldness where it had lingered. A faint rustle, the slightest shift of air, and I knew they were moving—close, but maddeningly out of reach.
In the silence, I felt exposed, stripped down to the rawest parts of myself, with nothing to shield me from whatever was to come.
I flexed my wrists, raw from the restraints, but even the movement felt surreal, heavy. Every sense sharpened, heightened to a near painful clarity as I listened, my heartthudding against my ribs. I still couldn’t see, couldn’t move without feeling the echo of that presence lingering, as if it had seeped into my skin.
And then, close to my ear—awhisper, barely more than a breath.
“Are you afraid, Dr. Harper?”
The voice slithered into my thoughts, threading through the darkness with a disturbing intimacy, like it belonged there, knew me in ways it shouldn’t. My heart pounded, each beat amplifying the creeping dread that had taken hold of me. I swallowed, struggling to steady myself.
“Who…who are you?” My voice shook despite myself, the words barely audible.
Another whisper. Soft. Cruel. “Names aren’t important…yet.”
