“I know the symptoms of anxiety,” Nora said, hearing the edge in her own voice. “I’ve been managing it for years. This is different.”
“Different how?”
“Because it’s real!”
The words burst out louder than she’d intended. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe slowly. To not lose control.
Dr. Kim set down her pen. “Nora, I believe that your fear feels real. What I’m questioning is whether the threat is external or internal. Your history—the foster care, the lack of stable attachments, the trauma of losing your parents—these things can create patterns of thinking that feel very real but aren’t based in current reality.”
Nora felt something crack inside her chest. Even her therapist. Even the one person whose job was to help her navigate her broken brain.
“What about the detective?” Nora asked. “He’s investigating. He found something wrong with the security footage at my building.”
“And that’s good. I’m glad you reported your concerns. But I want you to consider the possibility that you might be misinterpreting normal events as threatening. The human brain is wired to see patterns, especially when we’re under stress.”
Normal events. Misinterpretation. Patterns that aren’t really there.
Nora stood abruptly. “I need to go.”
“Nora—”
“I have a work thing.I forgot. I’m sorry.”
She grabbed her purse and left before Dr. Kim could stop her, before she could hear any more about how her broken brain was creating problems that didn’t exist.
Outside, the January air bit at her face. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to ground herself. Trying to figure out what was real.
Lila didn’t believe her. Dr. Kim didn’t believe her. IT at work didn’t believe her.
Maybe they were all right. Maybe she was losing her grip on reality, seeing threats in shadows, letting her damaged childhood turn her into someone who couldn’t trust her own perceptions.
Her phone buzzed. Detective Black:Found something on the security footage. Can you meet tomorrow morning at your building? 9 AM?
Nora’s hands shook as she typed back:Yes. Thank you.
One person. One person believed something was wrong.
She had to hold onto that.
***
That evening, Nora stood in her apartment doorway, keys in hand, trying to make herself go inside.
The door was locked. Deadbolt secure. Chain still in place, which meant no one could have entered while she was gone.
But the feeling of wrongness pressed against her skin like static electricity.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on every light as she moved through the apartment. Living room—clear. Kitchen—clear. Bedroom—
She froze.
The photo on her nightstand. The one of her parents, her mom laughing while her dad hugged her from behind, Nora a tiny figure between them. She kept it in a silver frame, always positioned at a slight angle so she could see it when she lay in bed.
Now it faced the wall.
Nora’s breath came faster. She moved to the nightstand, hands shaking, and turned the frame around. Her parents smiled out at her, frozen in that moment before everything shattered.
You moved it yourself. You were cleaning and forgot to put it back.
