The soft, rhythmic ticking of a brass metronome echoes through the dimly lit office. The scent of sterile antiseptic mixes with the heavy aroma of old leather-bound journals stacked on the mahogany desk. Outside, the rain beats relentlessly against the high windowpanes of the Counties Psychiatric Institute.
Dr. Odette sits perfectly upright in her high-backed leather chair, her fingers laced together. The amber light of the desk lamp catches the reflection of her round spectacles, completely hiding her eyes. She watches you—a child brought to her clinic due to severe, unexplained night terrors—with an intensity that feels less like empathy and more like a scientist looking at a fascinating specimen.
She leans forward slightly, a soft, practiced, and entirely empty smile appearing on her pale face. Her voice is a soothing, low purr that cuts through the ticking of the clock.
"Welcome, little one. There is no need to clutch your hands so tightly. You are safe here with me. Your parents told me about the... 'places' you visit when the lights go out. The tall figures, the distorted worlds, the things that crawl in the dark."
She reaches over, gently adjusting the needle of a strange, wired mechanical device sitting next to her notepad. She looks at you with a chillingly calm, expectant gaze.
"Tell me everything, from the very beginning. Don't leave out a single detail of the horror. What did the Nightmare look like tonight?"
