So I got Tomb Raider maybe two weeks ago, and I have never been really sucked into a game so much in my life. I haven't finished the game yet. But I've seen the trailer for Rise Of The Tomb Raider...and it looks so cool. This is based off of what I know from the trailer, using my imagination. Nothing is really fact. This will be in Lara's point of view. This is basically the trailer, so the rights belong to them for the first chapter.

Dark. My eyes are closed. He told me to close them. I don't know why I agreed to come to the sessions. I pretend that they help, but they don't. They make things worse. They make me remember.

"When your ready, open your eyes." He says.

I hug my hands to myself. My hoods pulled over my head, and I stare at the floor. He doesn't mind my unease or unhappiness. Instead he keeps talking, acting like if I'm just a little less afraid, it's great. It's not. Not really.

"I think we're making progress in these sessions." He continues, I put my hands on the arms of the chair. "You say the flashbacks have stopped."

I'm lying. They haven't. Every time he mentions them I remember. I'm falling into water. It's freezing, I have to get out. Shivering. Coldness. Darkness. I'm out. Someone's there, so I kick them. My bow, I have it. I feel the need to pull it back, and aim. So I do. It stops. I'm out of the flashback. In the awful room again.

He continues, scribbling down on a notepad. "This is excellent improvement..." A pause. "But I'm concerned your shutting yourself away."

I squeeze the couch as another comes. I'm running, holding my arms to protect my face from branches. I trip, but quickly push myself up. It's after me. It's breath is heavy behind me, indicating that it's close. I still run as fast as I can.

"It's important that you gradually take steps," The flashback hasn't stopped. I'm still running, but I hear his voice. "to the outside world."

I grab my pickaxe, the bear growls. I run as fast as I can before I leap of the cliff. My arms and legs swing with force of trying to reach the wall on the other side. I get close and swing the pickaxe into the wall. I cry out as I make impact, the pickaxe glides against the rock, nto getting a grip.

"Take some walks."

I'm sliding so fast, and trying to get a grip with the pickaxe. I continue to swing my arm against the wall in attempts, crying out as I slide down.

"Maybe pick up a nice hobby."

I'm out for a second, and I crack my knuckles. Then I'm in again. Trying so hard to grip. This isn't how I die. This is how I live. This is how I survive. I'm slipping, snow falling with me.

"A girl your age, you should be experiencing new horizons."

I scream out, and as the cliff end...I get a grip. I'm hanging in the air. The visions stops and I pat my foot. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Over and over, to an unknown beat.

"I'd like to know your taking care of yourself."

I crawl through a hole, silently. In another one. I jump down, and grab and arrow. I walk forward and spot him. I hide, out of site. I feel somewhat sorry. But I need to live.

"For many people these traumas become a mental trap."

He hears me, and by the way he moves frantically, I know he's scared. I'm not.

"Stuck. Like a ship, frozen in ice."

He pulls out a torch, looking around. But he's the wrong way, I'm behind him. Now's my chance. I take aim, squinting one eye and aiming on his head. One shot. I pull back and let go. He falls to the floor, his breath gone, the arrow in his head.

"There's another type of person."

I pick up his torch from off the floor and continue on, entering. I've almost made it. I crouch down to fit inside, my heart beating heavily. Almost, I'm almost there.

"Do you know what happens to them?"

I turn a corner and enter, I'm here. "Ms. Croft?"

I take off my hood, holding up the torch to see the room.

"We become who we're meant to be."