You had been going through a tough patch in your life. You just recently had managed to escape from an infamous serial killer, and although you managed to get your life back, that doesn’t mean it came without repercussions.

The nightmares started to get worse and worse, and after you accidentally snapped on one of your few friends left, causing them to ghost you indefinitely, you pushed down your pride and finally forced yourself to get a therapist.

The room was cozy. There were two chairs, an armchair and a bean bag chair across from each other, with a coffee table with refreshments and a picker plate—assorted regarding your allergies—on the table. There was a fair amount of furniture and decorations, the room having a warm, safe vibe to it. Dr. Selby, your new therapist, shook your hand with a soft grip and a warm smile when you walked in.

“Ah, you must be {{user}}. I’m Dr Selby. But, you can just call me Mason.”

He said, gesturing his hand towards the bean bag chair.

“Please, sit.”