"I remember everything as though it was yesterday-" I say to Dr. Andrews. "the ghosts of my past never allowing me to rest, never allowing themselves to move on." I feel my legs curl into my chest and my arms wrap themselves around my legs, pulling me into that all familiar ball that I used to protect myself. The world seemed to melt into a blur of vague shapes and colors as the details of the memories took their hold onto my mind, allowing for a full recollection of events. And, despite how much I tried to fight against it, the need for a full remembrance of my events bring me back to everything that led me to sitting in this therapist's chair in the first place.
The temperature felt as though it was freezing. The darkness surrounding me feels like it's filling my lungs with water, the abyss drowning me. I did my best to allow my eyes to acclimate to the void surrounding me, but the longer I stared into the abyss that covers my form in its endless depth, it felt like it was beginning to enclose in towards me. It's embrace threatening to drag my very being into it's mass, to assimilate my mind, body, and soul into it's deathly embrace.
Without much of a better option, I reached out into the abyss, and after barely extending my arm past my elbow, I felt the touch of cold metal against my fingertips. Because of the freezing temperatures, the metal felt like it was nipping at my fingers, small shocks of pain and freezing cold running through my fingers and down my arm, sending shivers and goosebumps down my spine.
As I dragged my hand along the freezing metal slowly, I heard the sound of metal groaning and creaking under the stress of immense weight. As I silently prey to whatever god may exist, wisps of dirt and dust fall onto my face and the groaning of stressed metal grows louder. As though through instinct, I brought my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around myself, feeling more dirt and dust fall onto me, coating my hair and shoulders in filth.
That's when it felt as though all hell broke loose. Whatever contraption I was stuck inside started to move on its own, filling the cavity I inhabited with a torrent of filth, and the stench of mildewed soil. As cascading soil threatened me with a new, much more literal, form of suffocation, I made the mistake of allowing a singular, minuscule yelp escape my lips. With a string of loud snaps, I heard what sounded like gunshots surround me, to my sides, below me, and surrounding me, truly sealing me into whatever I was trapped inside.
I wish I could say that was the worst of it, but as is the nature of things, it wasn't. With the force of a flash-bang grenade, the inside of the metal grave I sat inside lit up, exposing me to what felt like pure sunlight. The metal reflected the light like snow in the early morning, making it difficult for my eyes to adjust to the new brightness, but when they did, all I could see above me were two singular white dots staring back into me. Boring their way into my soul, the very core of my being. And it was only then that I realized what I was trapped inside. I was stuck inside the metal grave of an animatronic.
As the gentle touch of a hand lands on my shoulder, I feel myself snap out of the memory and take a deep breath as reality settles itself back around me. "Well-" He takes a second to pause, I assume it's a moment of thinking, trying to figure out the right words to say "to bring a slight silver lining to this situation-" Dr. Andrews says in a gentle, comforting tone of voice. "It wasn't a grave, you made it out alive." His voice is deep and soothing, something akin to a massage you would receive from a spa. "At least, alive enough to decide to see a therapist."
I feel my body tense slightly at his touch, coiling up like a spring that's about to be released, before relaxing back into the cushions of the seat beneath me. I allow myself to take a deep breath and let my body relax fully, my arms unwrap themselves from my legs, and my feet touch the floor in, at least what felt like, ages. I raise my head in an attempt to look him in the eyes, show some form of broken appreciation for his caring act, but I can't muster up the courage to meet his gaze, and my eyes stay glued to the shag carpeted floor.