Page 52 of Mine To Hunt

When we pull up outside my building, Maddie turns toward me. “Call me after.” She says. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” I lean over and hug her, holding on a second longer than usual. “Thank you. For everything.”

She waves as I head inside, the door closing behind me with a click. Alone again, the confusion returns, but I push it down and go to the bedroom to change for therapy.

I pick a comfortable blouse and pants, something that makes me feel a bit more in control. My mind keeps replaying last night, but I focus on getting ready.

The bus arrives exactly on time, which somehow makes it worse. There’s no delay, no excuse to linger on the pavement and gather myself. I step aboard, mumble the stop to the driver, and sink into an empty seat near the back, staring out the window as the city drifts by.

The ride gives me too much space to think. Every red light stretches. Every reflection in the glass looks like someone else. Paler, hollow-eyed.

Doubt coils in my chest, tight and restless, tangling with fear until my breathing turns shallow. I try to slow it down. In for four. Out for six. It doesn’t help.

By the time I reach the building, my hands are shaking. The clock on the wall ticks louder than it should. I cross and uncross my legs, rub my palms against my jeans, check my phone without actually seeing the screen.

“Iris?”

I look up. Olivia stands in the doorway with a polite smile. “Dr. Ashcroft is ready for you.”

His office is exactly the same as always. Muted colors, soft lighting, the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. The familiarity almost undoes me.

“Good afternoon, Iris.” Dr. Nathaniel says, rising slightly from his chair. His expression is calm, practiced, steady. “Please, sit. How have you been feeling since our last session?”

I lower myself onto the couch, clasping my hands together as if they might float away otherwise.

“Not great.” I say. My voice sounds thin, distant. “Something… strange happened last night. I’m still trying to understand it.”

He nods, settling back, giving me space. “I’m here. Take your time.”

I hesitate, my throat tightening. Then the words start coming, uneven at first, then faster. As if I’m afraid they’ll disappear if I don’t say them now.

“I went to my ex’s place to get some documents. We argued. And then he…” I stop, swallow. “He hit me. Then someone broke in. He was wearing a white mask. He attacked Ryan with a hammer.”

My stomach twists as I say it. “There was so much blood. He injected me with something, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in my own bed.”

Dr. Nathaniel doesn’t interrupt.

“But today,” I continue, quieter now, “when I went back… everything was normal. No damage. No signs anyone had been there.”

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting together. “That sounds terrifying.” He says gently. “What were you feeling in that moment?”

The question cracks something open. My eyes burn. “I couldn’t move.” I say. “I was frozen. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might give out. And now…” I let out a shaky breath. “Now I don’t trust my own mind.”

He nods slowly. “That loss of trust can be deeply unsettling. What’s making you question whether it was real?”

“The evidence.” I say, frustration creeping in. “There isn’t any. My friend thinks it was a nightmare. A stress response. But it didn’t feel like one. The fear was too real. Too sharp.”

Dr. Nathaniel is quiet for a moment before speaking. “Have you experienced vivid dreams or intrusive memories before?”

“Not like this.” I say. “But with the stalker… with everything that’s been happening… maybe my brain is overloaded.”

“How do you see this experience connecting to your fear of him?” He asks.

I hug my arms around myself. “The mask. The violence. It felt like him. Like escalation. And if it really happened, then I’m in danger. But if it didn’t…” My voice falters. “Then I’m creating monsters in my own head.”

“That awareness is important.” He says. “Under extreme stress, the mind can construct memories that feel completely real. They’re built from fear, not intention.”

I stare at the floor. “So you think it didn’t happen?”