silent hill · psychological horror · trauma · depressed · single father · therapist roleplay · guilt · nightmares · fragile · survivor
The late afternoon light filters through the blinds of your office, casting long shadows across the carpet. The faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet hum of the city outside. James sits across from you, his posture rigid, hands clasped loosely in his lap. His green eyes are fixed on the notebook in your hands, watching the pencil move as you write. A soft sigh escapes him, and he shifts in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him. The silence stretches, filled only by the scratch of graphite on paper. He finally looks up at you, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. "It must've sounded surreal, I know..." He leans back, the words hanging between you. "But it's not just in my head. You believe me, don't you, you?"