Chapter 11
A Path to Peace
The journey towards healing begins. The narrator seeks solace, perhaps through therapy, writing, or connecting with others who have experienced similar losses, finding strength in vulnerability.
The old wooden floorboards of the therapist's office creaked beneath my feet, a familiar sound that had, over the past few months, become a kind of sonic balm. Dr. Anya Sharma’s office was a sanctuary of muted colours and soft light, a stark contrast to the jagged edges of my own interior landscape. She sat opposite me, her gaze steady, her presence a quiet anchor in the turbulent sea of my memories. Today, the waves felt particularly rough, pulling me back to a place I’d tried so desperately to outrun.
“It’s the dreams again,” I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush before I could censor them. “The same ones. The field. The wind. And the… the hand.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. The phantom touch, always just out of reach, a fleeting caress that felt more like a brand.
Dr. Sharma nodded, her pen hovering over her notepad. “Tell me about the hand, if you can.”
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