Vibrant sunlight shined through the half-shut blinds, illuminating the warm living room like office Dwight found himself inside. Dust particles could be seen in the rays of light, floating wherever it wished. The air felt stiff, in need of an open window. The room was painted various shades of orange, clearly dusk by now. The antique clock in the corner of the room stood as the only source of noise. Dwight found himself tapping his leg to the rhythm. Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, to-

He moved. The man standing at the far end of the office window. Dwight had his eyes trained on him from the moment he had arrived. He stood with his coffee mug in hand, leisurely sipping at intervals. His back to Dwight as he watched something outside. Every movement, every shift of clothing, every slight twitch of his muscles did not go unnoticed.

The clock struck the hour. No audible indicator followed, yet the man turned towards Dwight fully aware.

"Let's begin, shall we?"

He ambled across the room, relaxing into the chair opposite Dwight. Only a desk separated them, one clear of any clutter besides a handful of documents and a container of writing utensils. The man met his gaze, resting his arms upon the desk as he leaned forward. Dwight shallowed, his dry throat irritating him more than usual.

"Mr. Fairfield, we'll only go over the basics for today. Is that alright?"

"Y-yeah" Dwight croaked, coughing right after as he tried to clear his throat.

"Excellent," The man paused, "How is your life now? After the incident, how has settling back in gone for you?"

Dwight sighed as he lowered his head, "It's been, uh, it's been stressful." He looked up momentarily to observe the other's reaction. The expression showed the man was listening, so Dwight continued.

"The police haven't been able to find anything, no evidence, no signs to prove anything that I or the others had experienced-"

"The others?"

"I-I wasn't the only one, there were others, others like myself, trapped. I, I don't want to talk about them…"

"You know we'll have to eventually"

"N-not, now, please…"

"Of course. Like I said, only the basics. We're focusing on you alone this session, ignore the police and the investigation for now."

Dwight nodded, recollecting his thoughts. Focusing on mental images of his apartment, everything exactly where he had left them before that dreadful night. His tattered couch, his stuffed giraffe laying upon it. Memories of laying across it after being mostly ignored by authorities. The restless night that followed. The footsteps of his neighbours startling him. The boots of the monstrous being behind him as he fled for his life in the deteriorating buildings.

"Mr. Fairfield?"

Dwight snapped back into reality. Looking up to see the same piercing brown eyes of his therapist. A sympathetic look across his features. Dwight licked his lips, looking back down at his hands to find them shaking. He interlocked his fingers, tightening his grip as he tried to get a hold of himself. Taking a few deep breathes he felt his body soften slightly.

"Everything reminds me of it, t-the footsteps, the church bells any sort of screaming hell I'm even scared of my own heart beat," Dwight hastened his speech as he explained, chuckling as he finished. A bitter smile breaking out as he looked around the room, avoiding eye contact. "S-safe to say, settling back is easier said than done…"

The man nodded, jotting something down on the papers in front of him. Dwight resisted the urge to bite his fingernails, a bad habit he picked up from his childhood.

"What about work?"

"Still looking."

More writing followed.

"Family?"

Dwight wanted to laugh. "I, I don't even think they know I went missing."

No writing followed.

"Why do you say that?"

Dwight stayed silent. His chest burned, but he knew no tears would come. He could feel the therapist's eyes burning into him, waiting patiently for a response. His body resisted, feeling his past physically sealed away. An invisible weight acting as a lock. That opening his mouth would, well, he wasn't sure what it would do.

"I…" He swallowed again, his hands paling from the grip he was unknowingly tightening.

Silence.

"We can address this another time if it's too much for you, Mr. Fairfield."

Dwight held a barely noticeable smile, "thank you."

The man nodded, beginning to write again. "How are your friends? Have you contacted anyone?"

"There's no one to contact," It was barely above a whisper, yet the therapist clearly heard it. Pencil scratching against the paper.

"Have you done any socializing since you've returned? Gone to any events?"

Dwight shook his head meekly.

"Have you ever been on medication?"

Dwight shook his head again.

"Should you have been?"

"What?"

Dwight's head shot up, making eye contact with him once again. His mind trying to fully register what he had asked.

"I-I, I don't…" Dwight gulped, throat still dry. "I mean, probably…"

He nodded, going back to his paper.

"What do you use to comfort yourself, when your attacks happen?"

"Music mostly, I don't like the silence."

"Why is that?"

"I imagi- I, every sound could be one of them, coming."

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

Dwight inwardly smiled, relief at not being pushed to remember them for the time being. "It ranges, I try to keep it upbeat or at least, um, something, like not slow and depressing…"

"It's good to keep positivity around you," he paused to write again, "but keep in mind you shouldn't bottle things up. That's something we'll be working on."

"Y-yeah…."

"Has there been any changes in the severity of your symptoms since you're last email?"

"No, thankfully"

"That's good to hear."

He placed the paper down, pencil placed back into the container. The chair feet scratched against the floorboards as the man stood once again. Dwight studied his movements closely.

"Well Mr. Fairfield, it seems our session was much shorter than I anticipated."

Dwight joined the man in standing, glancing between him and the floor. He saw a faint smile of reassurance across the man's face. Dwight tried to mimic it in return.

"If you are comfortable with this arrangement and believe I can help you, contact me at any time to set up another session."

"O-okay-" Dwight followed him to the door, biting his nails.

"Oh, and Mr. Fairfield," The man hesitated at the door turning back to face him. Dwight quickly stopped his nervous tick, feeling semi embarrassed.

"I would suggest trying to go out, you don't have to make any best friends or even fully interact with others. Getting fresh air and being outside will help."

Dwight nodded in response, "I-I'll try to, Mr. Baker."