"You're not late this time, Miss Lilith… or perhaps I should call you 'Lili'."
That's how the doctor scolded me with an elegance so irritating that it almost made me lose control of my tongue.I turned away, forcing myself not to snap back, and fixed my eyes on an oil painting on the wall.A woman, I think… though her face was impossible to see.A swarm of butterflies pinned brutally across it, their wings stretched under tiny nails.
My irritation deepened. Anyone normal would've been sad...mourning the beauty ruined for the sake of "art." Those tiny nails piercing those delicate wings should have hurt anyone who looked at them. Anyone… except me.
The doctor stared at the painting too, specifically at the blackness spilling behind the colors.Then he asked, with the same blunt honesty he always used:
"Do you truly want to belong to my little world?"
"I do," I answered with full confidence.
"The price will be high."
"I know.
But don't forget you'll pay a price for letting me in."
He sighed, opened a drawer, and pulled out a voice recorder. The 'therapy session' officially began.
"Why did you rush here today? What made you so eager?"
I met his eyes— those unsettling eyes. Not ugly… dangerously beautiful. Beautiful enough to frighten me, because they reminded me of Adam's.
And then I remembered… those ridiculous eyes of the receptionist girl.
The doctor smirked, amused:
"Ah. So you have remembered why you came."
I raised my hand to silence him. I couldn't afford to lose the thread of my thoughts.
"She was standing in front of me…" I said ."As usual—quiet, submissive… whispering something, crying maybe, I don't remember. And I was at my desk, a mountain of files in front of me. Suddenly… they began to grow."
He leaned forward, intrigued :"Who? Leora?"
I tilted my head, annoyed by the interruption, and continued sharply:
"No, not her. The papers. They kept growing. Or maybe it was me shrinking, I don't know…All I know is that something tight wrapped around my chest. I couldn't breathe .I panicked and shoved the pile away before it buried me."
I paused for a breath.
"And then I saw her again...Leora. Standing there like some ghost from a horror movie. I can't recall the film's name…Anyone would've found her scary."
A beat.
"But not me. I wasn't scared of her long black hair, or that innocent white dress…nor her fragile eyes— eyes as breakable as salted crackers."
The doctor's voice cut in:
"You're lying. You were scared of something in her. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."
The words struck me like a slap: Liar. Coward... My own blood whispered it.
"…Fine," I exhaled : "Something bothered me.
Her breathing. It irritated me."
He shook his head: "No. It frightened you. Then what happened?"
I stared at him boldly.
"I told you—it bothered me ."I fell silent for a moment, then whispered the truth: "But what scared me wasn't her breathing…it was her kindness."
Yes .Her kindness.
"She came closer…and gently wiped away my tears. I didn't even know I was crying."
My voice dropped.
"She patted my head softly. In that moment, I felt…something like love for her."
"But then she turned around and walked away."
The doctor's voice sharpened: "How did that make you feel?"
"It hurt," I said simply. "Her leaving… actually hurt."
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Because she dragged me with her."
He blinked. "Dragged you?"
"Yes. Her black hair tangled with the end of mine…and she pulled me behind her. No mercy, no hesitation. I screamed at her—ordered her—begged her to stop. But she didn't hear me."
I lowered my gaze.
"That humiliation…that helplessness in the dream…that's what I want you to explain."