“A whisper.” Berz1337’s voice dropped. “A heat at the base of my skull. Sometimes a scent — like burnt sugar. It’s never long enough to stop him. He moves faster than guilt.”
Berz1337’s fingers worked a rhythm against their knee. “He’s part of me. Not metaphorically — I can feel him. When I’m about to snap, he sits up, ears pricked, and the world tilts.” They glanced at the hellhound. “He eats the shame so I don’t have to. He keeps people away. He… protects me by destroying things.” hellhound therapy session berz1337 new
Berz1337 inhaled. “I’m afraid I won’t recognize myself when I’m not angry.” “A whisper
They sat like that for a long, practical minute. The hellhound’s breathing slowed. Berz1337’s hands stopped trembling. he sits up