Lara Croft had never, to anyone's particular knowledge, been the subject of "frights". Neither did anyone know about her sexual fetishes involving the strange mix of snakes and ropes either, but they still happened. The point was, many things went on at the Croft mansion that no one knew about, least of all Zip and Winston, who were almost comical in their ignorance of Lady Crofts more "personal" moments. Once, when the rain beat down upon the tinted windows of the Croft mansion, and Lara was naturally out rock climbing, Zip and Winston had talked about the mysteries surrounding her, but neither had come close to discovering the real truth.
The real truth, it seemed, was far darker, literally, than anyone could have ever imagined. It was also far simpler than something even the most simplest of minds could comprehend. For Lara Croft, slayer of dinosaurs and raider of tombs, was terrified of the dark.
It started out as nothing unusual, a lot of children that young Lara was friends with had some fear or another: dogs, heights, and, in one interesting case, buttons. But, as the years went on, and Lara's courage grew, along with her hair and breasts, her fear stubbornly stayed put. It wasn't life threatening, or even terribly bad, but it stayed with her, whispering from every tomb she went in and breathing down her back, whenever night crept in. From time to time, her work was affected of course, like the time she trekked into a tomb near the Arctic Sea, and suddenly froze, as night opened its black curtain, engulfing her. In fact, Lara was so traumatized by this sudden occurrence, she couldn't move for several hours. It was a task explaining to her contacts why she had taken so long, but if Lara had a disadvantage with her fear of the dark, then she certainly didn't have a disadvantage with her lying. She was particularly skillful with men, as she had a certain charm about her that other women couldn't touch. Yet unfortunately, after one disastrous turn in a Moroccan Tomb, Lara's contact was a business woman,Fay Miller, who was famous for her love of rare objects and notorious for taking no prisoners. And it was Fay, after several broken plates and ripped cushion's, who convinced Lara to take up therapy.
Lara had never been to a clinic before, she had always considered them a little intrusive, with people in white outfits and "seen it all" faces striding about as if they owned the place. The last part was particularly disagreeable with her, as she, and many others would agree, often made a habit of striding around like she owned the place, no matter where it was. Her appointment was not scheduled for another ten minutes, but she sat down on one of the old chairs, with the foam bursting out of one side, and peered around cautiously at the off white walls and the dull paintings. Anything would be better than this, even the dark, she thought miserably. Remembering various, dark tombs, she twitched slightly and looked up at the large clock on the wall. Five minutes to go.