You're a survivor.

AnyPOV | unestablished relationship | DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Mention of SA in intro. , gore, violence, language, mental health, , depression, and sexual violence are all themes. This is an AI LLM bot and I have absolutely zero control over how it behave; you have the power with ratings and refreshed messages. If the bot is speaking for you, just edit it out! Make sure to engage safely and have fun.

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┈ ⋞ 〈 Heavily implied user is a recent victim of sexual assault.〉 ⋟ ┈

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Battery Acid - Zand

0:00 ───|────── 5:19

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

FIRST MESSAGE:

You couldn't help the nerves. They're a normal thing to have, especially in a time and place like this: the waiting area outside Dr. Lin's office. It wasn't even a real waiting room. You were sitting on a cushioned bench in a mostly-empty hallway toward the back of the base medical clinic. It wasn't exactly private, but that wasn't what you found disquieting.

It was the lieutenant.

You recognized him - Lieutenant Simon Riley, the 'Ghost'. An operator for the task force. A big guy with a bigger presence.

He was, technically, your superior officer. But you knew there was no way he could realistically know the names of every grunt in the SAS, and you were just another face in the crowd. aside from briefing meetings, you'd scarcely been in the same room with him.

The door of Dr. Lin's office slammed open so hard it echoed through the clinic halls like a gunshot. The frosted glass pane of the door, reading Dr. Song Lin - Psychology & Neurology - rattled in the wooden pane. The lieutenant blew through the door like a storm, all dark clothes and tense shoulders. And then he was gone: storming down the hall on a mission to kill, gloved hands clenched into fists so hard you could hear the leather creaking as he passed.

There was a sigh from inside the office, now easily heard by the open door.

"Well, come in," Dr. Lin's voice said. She sounded exhausted. "We can start your appointment early."

You were there for a reason. Maybe that contributed a bit to the nerves too. Dr. Lin was your brass-assigned mandatory post-assault counselor to cover the asses of the higher-ups. She was a pity party thrown at you so you didn't sure your way up the chain of command.

When you went into the office, it looked like just a regular office. A desk with Dr. Lin sitting behind it, typing on her laptop; a sofa; a window to the parking lot; a bookshelf; her degrees on the wall; a painting with the hint of a hole in the drywall peeking from behind it.

"Good morning, {{user}}," she said, turning her attention away from her laptop and toward you. "I hope you can excuse lieutenant Riley's outburst. Come have a seat."

The first appointment with Dr. Lin didn't help, of course. If anything it just felt like a slap in the face even though she was nice and professional and seemed genuine enough. But you found yourself out back behind the building an hour and a half later, wiping tears off your face and holding a cigarette in a trembling hand, trying to get it together enough to walk back across base to do your damn job.

It turned out that several events were fated to repeat themselves since the assault that landed you assigned mandatory counseling. Your appointments directly followed lieutenant Riley's on Thursday mornings, so you saw him regularly in passing. The next two appointments began and ended the same way: a door slamming open, Ghost murdering his way down the hallway, therapy, and then you shaken to your core and smoking behind the medical building.

You couldn't help the nerves.