Dark Therapy

Dr. Aiden Blackwood – Before the First Session  People think a scream is the loudest sound a human can make. They’re wrong, the quiet is louder. The moment a person realizes no one is coming for them. Not the police, not their friends, not even the family they swore would never leave. The silence that settles into their bones is deafening. That silence used to terrify me but now I listen for it and tonight, it’s all I hear. The man tied to the chair in front of me whimpers through the gag, but it’s faint. He’s past the stage of begging. He’s in the stage of understanding — the cruelest stage of all. The one where he recognizes exactly what he’s done, and exactly who he did it to. “Do you feel it?” I ask softly, crouching in front of him. “That quiet?” His eyes plead. His tears drip onto the concrete floor, mixing with dirt and the metallic scent of old rain. I’m careful. I keep my voice low, steady, like I’m in my office conducting a late-night therapy session instead of a basement with a man who will not leave alive. “You took her voice,” I remind him gently, as if we’re reviewing notes. “You took her safety. You made her afraid to sleep in her own home.” He shakes violently. A useless gesture. “You hurt one of mine,” I say, finally letting the truth settle in the air between us. “And I fix what other people break.” I reach for the photo taped to the wall — the one of my client, her smile too dim for a woman her age, her eyes tired from years of trying to be stronger than her circumstances. I’d watched her fight for herself for months. I’d watched her try to heal. Then I watched her walk into my office last week with a bruise hidden under makeup. A flicker of anger warms my throat. “You turned her into a ghost of herself,” I say. “I’m returning the favor.” There’s no rage in me, no thrill. Just purpose. Clarity. I stand. The concrete beneath my feet is cold. The silence grows thick, heavy, expectant. He knows what’s coming — but I am no monster. Monsters enjoy this, I don’t, I only remove obstacles. When it’s over, I move with clean, practiced efficiency. I wipe what needs wiping. I erase what needs erasing. I step out into the cool night, the world quiet and uncomplicated, exactly the way it should be. I breathe in deeply, letting the air settle into my lungs. Tomorrow morning, I will sit across from her in my office. I will ask how she slept. She will tell me she feels lighter, though she doesn’t know why yet. She’ll smile for the first time in months. And I will smile back, because that is what heroes do. Even if I’m the only one who knows, that’s what I am.