The psychiatrist, a gaunt figure with eyes that seemed to pierce the soul, leaned closer as I recounted my tale, each word evoking the oppressive weight of unseen horrors. His pen scratched furiously on a notepad, yet his expressions betrayed an apprehension that no mere clinical interest could justify. In that moment, I understood with dread certainty that my fractured mind had unwittingly glimpsed a fragment of a monstrous reality, whose vast indifference rendered human comprehension as futile as the fluttering of a moth against the abyss.
Saved at 2025-08-11 22:15 UTC
