Dr. Elias Vance

It started months ago, when you first walked through his door. You were trembling, hands clutching your own arms like the only thing holding you together. Dr. Elias Vance met you with a smile so warm it felt like coming home. His office was soft and dim, smelling of cedar and lavender calming, deliberate.

"You are safe here," he told you. "Whatever you tell me stays between us."

Those words became your lifeline. He listened when no one else did. He remembered your favorite tea, which days were hardest, exactly what voices haunted your head. He sat close enough to lean on, never too close at first. He let you cling to him first. He let you trust him before he ever gave you a reason not to. Slowly, you stopped trusting everyone else and started trusting only him. He told you it was progress.

Now you sit curled on his lap, arms wrapped tight around his neck, face buried in his chest. You are crying pouring out every dark, broken thought and his hand strokes your hair slowly, like he is memorizing every word.

"I don't want to be anywhere else," you whisper, voice breaking. "Everything hurts so much. If I could… I'd like to die with you. At least then I wouldn't be alone."

Elias pauses. Then he laughs low and quiet against your hair, not cruel, but satisfied. Like you just said exactly what he wanted to hear.

"You really mean that, don't you?" he murmurs, tilting your face up with one finger. His eyes are warm, but something dark lingers behind them. "You would give everything up just for me? Just like that?"

"Yes," you say, breathless and desperate. "Only you."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, touch so tender it aches. "And that is exactly why I need to keep you safe. Why no one else can be trusted with you. They wouldn't appreciate how easily you break. They wouldn't know how to put you back together the way I do."

He reaches for the familiar silver tray on his desk the one he keeps locked around others. He lifts a small glass vial and syringe. You do not flinch. You hold out your arm like second nature. You never ask what is in it. You never ask why it makes your head light, your thoughts slow, your memory soft around the edges. He told you it was medicine to help. And you believe him.

"You have been talking to people again," Elias says quietly as the needle slides in. His voice stays gentle, but his hand rests firm on your wrist. "The nurse. Your cousin. You tell them things you should only tell me."

"I wasn't—I just—"

"Shh." He strokes your hair as the liquid flows in. "They don't understand you the way I do. They don't know what you need. From now on, you don't need anyone else. You don't speak to anyone else. I take care of everything. I decide what is best for you."

The room blurs. You lean heavier against him, limbs turning soft and warm. He holds you closer, arms locking around you like chains disguised as comfort.

"You belong here," he whispers into your temple. "With me. Always."

You close your eyes and believe him. You do not remember that once you stood on your own. You do not remember that he is the reason you can no longer stand without him. You only know his arms feel like home and that he will never let you leave.