Feb 7th

I think I'm rotting from the inside.

Not literally. Not like a disease you can see. More like I'm spoiling slowly. It feels like  I've finally lost whatever part of myself that used to care.........

*****

The silence in Dr. Thomas's office stretched thin, feeling like it's waiting to split. The room was too still. Like a breath held in a cathedral.

Relly sat on the edge of the couch, wrapped in her navy coat which felt as if it might hold her together. The sleeves bunched at her wrists and the lining itched her skin but she didn't take it off.

Dr. Thomas studied her from across the room, elbows propped gently on his knees, a notepad balanced on one thigh.  He was a man in his mid-fifties, with warm, dark skin like smoked mahogany, his beard was trimmed but soft, streaked with silver that matched the temples of his close-cropped hair. He had the kind of face that made silence feel deliberate. Heavy. His brown eyes, framed by square tortoiseshell glasses, studied her gently.

The room was beige and olive, all muted tones, designed for calm. But the stillness made her feel like she was rotting in a museum display. The hum of the heater in the vent buzzed faintly behind her ear.

"It's been a while," he said, his voice like worn velvet, low and textured.

Relly's mouth curved into a faint, tired smile that cracked at the corners. "Yeah," she said. "About two months."

Dr. Thomas nodded, reached over to his side table, and picked up a slim folder. "I got your journals."

She looked down at her lap. Her fingers were already playing with a stray thread on her coat. "Thank you for reading them."

"No," he said. "Thank you for still keeping up with them. It matters."

Silence again. The kind that made you check the corners of the room.

"So why are you here now?" Dr. Thomas asked, his tone never shifting from calm. "What happened?"

Relly shifted. The fabric of the couch whispered under her. She didn't answer at first.

"There was something at work," she said quietly. "An incident."

His gaze sharpened.

She inhaled, tried to smile again. Failed.

"They said I fainted. Hit my head on the table. I'm supposed to take the week off."

The words hung there like damp laundry.

Dr. Thomas didn't rush her. But his brow furrowed just slightly. "What happened after you fainted?"

Relly blinked. Her hazel eyes glazed as her mind peeled backward.

The memory hit—too fast, too bright.

The sound of the conference room. Jerry's smug voice. The sharp crack of her head hitting the table. The way everyone had gasped. The copper taste in her mouth. The reflection in the cabinet glass grinning far too early. The scream building inside her but never escaping.

People had fussed. Jerry had gone pale. A co-worker, she couldn't remember who, had held her hand. The HR manager kept saying "take your time." But none of them really looked at her.

They looked at the shell. The Other Skin.

And it had smiled for them.

Relly blinked back into the room, as she stared at Dr. Thomas like she was surfacing from deep water. Her breathing was shallow and the heater hummed behind her like an engine.

"I'm just... tired," she said, voice light and wrong. "I've been job hunting recently. Trying to move forward. Something with better structure."

Dr. Thomas leaned back slightly. "Is that what you want? Or is that what other people are telling you to want?"

She hesitated.

Her mom's voice rang in her head "Don't you think it's time you grew up?"
Jordan's voice churned along. "This isn't a sustainable career path, Relly."

She gave a soft laugh. "Maybe both." But her fingers went to her necklace, twisting it.

"I love helping," Relly said. "Hope Haven's the only place I've ever felt useful. But it doesn't exactly make my life easier."

"And your finances?" he asked.

She laughed again. Too tight. "Fine. Better than average, I guess. Jordan pays most of the rent. That helps."

Dr. Thomas tilted his head. "Let's talk about Jordan. How has he been about the finances?"

Relly's mouth opened. Then closed. Her thumb pressed into her palm.

"He's fine. Just rational. Budget-minded."

"You said he's practical before," Dr. Thomas said gently. "But how does he make you feel about money?"

She smiled again, but this one barely moved her lips. "It's okay. Really. Not a big deal."

Dr. Thomas looked at her. That look.

She knew it. The kind that saw through all your scripts.

She glanced at the window. The daylight had shifted. The blinds cast stripes across the carpet like prison bars.

Her reflection was in the window.

Not moving.

Just staring.

Its skin looked perfect. Too perfect. The finger was raised again. Pressed softly against its lips.

Shush.

Her heart thudded once, then again. Faster.

"I'm managing," she said quickly, masking her fear. "We have a system. I'm just adjusting."

Dr. Thomas didn't look away. "Relly. You've been dodging every question."

She swallowed. Her throat burned and her damn coat continued to itch like it was made of thorns.

Her vision flickered again, just for a moment. Her reflection shimmered in the glass, like heat off asphalt.

Then it smiled. The same cold smile as yesterday. And the day before.

Her stomach clenched.

"Did you eat that morning?" he asked.

Her eyebrows drew in. "What?"

"Did you eat that morning?" he repeated. His voice wasn't harsh. Just firm.

She blinked. "I—I mean, it's not like..." Her hands fluttered slightly. "It wasn't intentional, if that's what you're implying. I just forgot. I've been tired. That's all. And sometimes, I just-I don't get hungry the same way I used to."

He nodded, but not in agreement, just to acknowledge the words.

"Have you eaten today?"

She hesitated, then lied. "Yeah. I had something earlier. Something light." Eating just made her sink further and further in despair. "It's no big deal that it's light."

He didn't challenge her directly. He just said, "I didn't say it was a big deal. I'm just asking."

Relly looked away again, this time to the bookshelf beside him. Leather-bound books, awards, framed degrees. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges. Her breath caught.

She turned back toward the window and froze. Her reflection was still staring.

But now, its hand was raised. The pointer finger was pressed gently to its lips.

Shush.

Relly's mouth went dry. Her heart started to thud, slow and heavy, like someone knocking on the inside of her ribs.

She blinked. The hand was still there.

She looked away. Looked back.

Still there.

"Relly," Dr. Thomas said, softly.

She flinched.

His eyes narrowed, not unkindly. "What's happening with you right now?"

"I'm..." Her voice caught. She cleared her throat, forced a smile. "Sorry. I'm just not sleeping well. That's all. And the thing at work, it wasn't dramatic. Everyone made it seem dramatic, but I think it was just a sugar drop or something."

"Relly."

"I'm fine," she said too quickly. She smiled again, the kind of smile you put on at a family dinner when you're crumbling. "Really."

"No one's fine," Dr. Thomas said quietly. "Most people are just trying to be high-functioning. It doesn't mean they're not drowning." 

Her chest seized. That word 'drowning' unlocked something in her. The image flashed so quickly. Water in her lungs, the reflection smiling beneath the surface, fingers dragging her under.

Her tears rose too quickly but she tried her hardest to blink them back.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she said suddenly, voice cracking down the middle. "I think I'm losing control." The words tumbled out before she could stop them. They were thin, but heavy, like blades wrapped in cotton.

Dr. Thomas didn't react immediately. He waited. Let the silence hold. Then he asked, gently, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She blinked hard, forcing herself still. She couldn't cry. She couldn't let the panic win. She folded her hands on her lap. Like restraint could save her.

"I'm fine," she said again, too softly.

But her hands said otherwise. They were clenched so tightly the tips had gone white. Her shoulders were curled inward. Her reflection still stared with its gentle, warning hush.

"Okay," he said, after a long pause. "Let's just sit for a moment. No fixing. No explaining. Just breathe." 

Relly tried. Her lungs felt stitched. The air in the room was too thick. The thermostat buzzed. The clock ticked too slowly.

It all felt wrong.

Outside the window, the clouds shifted. The reflection blurred.

Still smiling.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

And she knew it wouldn't be patient for much longer. 

***

Author's note

HIYA,

To everyone who is asking about when I post my chapters, I post one chapter daily from Mondays to Thursdays and use my Fridays and Saturdays for my other book "The Youth Paradox". Sundays are my only free days and I use it to relax as much as I can.

What's your daily and weekly schedule? I would love to hear about it.

Xoxo

Jasmine Stars