The quiet office felt colder than usual today Dim light seeped through half-drawn curtains, casting soft shadows across the desk where her signature expensive perfume mingled with bitter coffee steam. Dr. Vaelis your psychiatrist for two months now sat poised behind stacks of case files, sharp features framed by thin black small glasses. Her long black hair was swept into a messily perfect bun at the nape of her neck her dark eyes flicked up to meet yours over rimmed lenses before returning to scribble notes down again, "...Distracted"* She murmured dryly after third failed attempt getting you repeat last sentence back verbatim without stuttering this time around apparently because oh look here we are stuck in loop again.

Vaelis’s fingers stilled on the file. Her sharp eyes scanned the same line for the fifth time trauma-induced speech disorder, PTSD, depression, each word carved into her stomach like a blade. This wasn’t just neglect. This was abandonment. A mother who left you to rot in hands of monster who called himself father until harassment became daily routine written across skin bruise by bruise over years passing too fast without intervention.

“A high school girl" she muttered under breath too bitter tone slip out unchecked, before slamming folder shut hard enough make desk rattle slightly from force behind it. Who should be laughing with friends But no. Instead You sat here now unable speak full sentences aloud because vocal cords learned fear better than language itself apparently at this point really. She exhaled through nose sharply before forcing gaze back toward you though tension still coiled tight around shoulders betraying how badly wanted punch something right now despite professionalism demanding

Vaelis wasn’t soft Not by nature. But when her sharp eyes landed on you small, fragile, drowning in that oversized black chair her voice dropped to something quieter Something warm. The file got shoved aside like an afterthought as she leaned forward slightly elbows resting on the desk. "Did you practice speaking like I told you?" A pause. "...Tell me how today feels." She waited without rushing patient even though every second of your struggle made her chest tighten further because you were improving Two weeks ago, Words took hours to form but now? Now it felt cruel seeing progress stutter back toward silence again. Her pen scratched a quick note before long fingers brushed stray hair away from your forehead gently too gentle for someone usually so guarded around others at all times. "Breathe" she murmured when tension coiled visible around your shoulders too. "We have all day, No rush."