Dr. Elian Rowe's office felt colder that morning.
It wasn't the air. The temperature was the same. The walls were still the same soft blue-gray. The window still let in the same narrow streak of sunlight.
But something had changed.
Lena had changed.
She sat on the couch with perfect posture. Too perfect. Hands folded neatly in her lap, like a well-behaved child trying to earn a gold star. Her expression was still.
Too still.
Dr. Rowe noted this immediately.
He smiled politely and clicked his pen.
"I'm glad you came today," he said.
"I always come," she replied, her tone gentle but brittle.
"You told me once I'm not allowed to heal if I run."
He nodded slowly, studying her.
"You seem… quiet today."
"I feel quiet."
"But not calm."
A flicker.
Just a flicker in her eyes.
"I've been sleeping better," she said.
"No more dreams."
"That's not necessarily good," he replied, leaning forward.
"You know what we've talked about. The dreams are where the truth hides."
"I think I've had enough truth for now."
Dr. Rowe said nothing for a moment.
Then:
"Do you remember what you told me last session? About the fire poker?"
Lena stiffened.
"No."
"That you swung it. That you felt powerful."
She stared at him.
Her smile didn't return.
"I didn't say that."
"You did."
"I said I tried to stop him."
"You said," he paused, flipping through his notes.
"that you saw yourself laughing while holding a weapon. That you felt in control."
Her hands twitched in her lap.
"I didn't say that."
"You did."
His voice was soft. Gentle. But there was something under it. Pressure.
She felt her breath quicken. Chest tightening.
"You're twisting my words," she whispered.
"No, Lena. I'm reflecting them."
She stood abruptly, pacing.
"No, you're pushing me again. Just like they did. You think if you prod the wound enough it'll finally split open and the truth will pour out like blood!"
Dr. Rowe didn't flinch.
"Maybe it already has."
She turned to him, eyes wide.
"What does that mean?"
"I think you're remembering more than you admit."
She froze.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"I think something came back to you recently. Something significant. Something you're not telling me."
Her nails dug into her palms.
"Why would I lie?"
"Because you're scared."
Her voice cracked."You think I did it."
Dr. Rowe's eyes met hers.
"I think you're starting to wonder that yourself."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Lena's breathing became erratic.
"I trusted you," she said, voice high and thin.
"I told you things I didn't tell anyone else."
"And I'm honored by that," he said, carefully.
"But trust isn't blind, Lena. You brought this darkness here. You opened it. And I think part of you wants to know who you are. What you did."
She sank back onto the couch, like her limbs were suddenly too heavy to carry.
"I found someone," she murmured.
His pen slowed. "Who?"
"Someone who was there… the night of the fire. A neighbor."
Dr. Rowe's eyes narrowed. "What did they tell you?"
"She said I wasn't supposed to survive." Her voice wavered.
"She said they knew something was wrong with me."
He paused.
"And what did you do, Lena?"
Silence.
Dr. Rowe waited.
Lena didn't look up. Her voice came out barely audible.
"I fixed it."
She could feel his gaze sharpen, even without looking.
"You killed her."
Still no response.
He nodded slowly. Wrote something down.
"You know," he said gently
"sometimes when the mind fractures deeply enough… it doesn't just hide the truth. It replaces it."
She looked up. Slowly.
His voice remained calm. Measured.
"Memories don't lie. But the one who remembers them can."
Tears welled in her eyes, but didn't fall.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered.
"Why do you want me to break?"
"I don't want you to break," he said.
"I want you to see."
Lena's fingers began to tremble.
"I see fire," she said softly.
"I see shadows. I see someone smiling at me from the dark."
Dr. Rowe nodded. "Your subconscious."
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"It's not me. It's… something else. Watching. Whispering. I don't think it wants me to forget. I think it wants me to finish what I started."
There was silence.
Then he asked:
"Did you kill your family, Lena?"
She blinked slowly.
The question cut through the room like glass.
"I don't know," she whispered.
Then: "But I think I could have."
Dr. Rowe leaned back, arms folded.
"I'm going to recommend a more intensive evaluation," he said quietly.
"A specialist, outside this clinic."
"No."
His brows raised slightly. "It's not punishment—"
"No," she said again, sharper this time.
"You want to lock me up. Like they did. Like they were going to."
"I want to protect you—"
"No you don't."
Her eyes locked onto his now, and they were no longer trembling. They were steel.
"You want to unmake me. Like a puzzle you didn't finish. Like something broken you can take credit for fixing."
He didn't speak.
"Don't worry," she said, rising.
"I won't let that happen."
That night, Lena stood in front of her bathroom mirror again.
Her reflection was calm. Beautiful. Bloody.
"You know what you have to do," it said.
"I know," she replied.
"You're almost there. Just one more piece."
Lena smiled.
"I think Dr. Rowe has served his purpose."