Chapter 5 I met Dr. Rossetti, my psychiatrist

The air in the office was cold, almost clinical, yet something in that room made me feel vulnerable and strangely safe at the same time. The bare walls, decorated only with diplomas and abstract paintings, seemed to absorb the noise of the outside world and let only my breathing and the beating of my heart be heard.

I sat on the dark leather armchair, my trembling hands resting on my legs. Vittorio had insisted I needed help. That this Dr. Rossetti was *"the key"* to unlocking what my memory refused to show me. His voice, when he said it, was loaded with a mixture I couldn't quite decipher: urgency, control, and a strange tenderness.

Now, as I waited, I felt like I was about to face something that could either break me or save me. Perhaps both.

The door opened softly, and there he was. Tall, impeccably dressed, with an intense gaze that seemed to pierce straight into the soul. Dr. Rossetti had a deep, measured voice, like a secret being slowly revealed.

*"Catalina,"* he said, extending his hand. *"Pleased to meet you."*

I took his hand and felt a faint jolt, an uncomfortable spark that made me withdraw quickly. Was it fear or something else?

*"Let's start with something simple,"* he said, sitting across from me. *"How are you feeling today?"*

I wanted to lie. I wanted to say I was fine, that I didn't need anything, that this was all a mistake. But the truth got stuck in my throat, heavy and dark.

*"Confused,"* I managed to say. *"And tired."*

He nodded with understanding.

*"It's normal to feel that way when you're facing fragmented memories,"* he murmured. *"Our mind protects what it isn't ready to reveal."*

When he said this, I felt a pang in my stomach-a mix of nausea and relief. Was it possible that I wasn't crazy? That everything actually made sense?

I tried to breathe deeply, noticing the sweat beading on my forehead and dampening my palms.

*"Would you like to tell me something from your past?"* he asked gently. *"Whatever you remember, even just a fragment."*

I wanted to close my eyes and sink into nothingness, but there was also a part of me that wanted to cling to any hope, any piece, no matter how small.

*"I remember... a garden,"* I began. *"Red flowers, the smell of wet earth. But then it all gets blurry."*

Dr. Rossetti wrote something in his notebook without interrupting.

*"Gardens often symbolize refuge, the desire for protection,"* he said. *"And sometimes, prison as well."*

A shiver ran down my spine.

*"Prison?"* I asked, my voice trembling.

*"Yes. Sometimes the very thing that protects us is also what traps us."*

I then remembered Vittorio-his dark gaze, his possessive embrace. Was he my guardian or my jailer? Or both?

My thoughts were interrupted by a new sensation, a flashback that appeared without warning.

I was in the dimness of a room, a feeling of suffocation, the dull sound of a clock marking time, and my own accelerated breathing. Vittorio was there, his intense gaze fixed on me, his hands gripping my shoulders firmly.

*"You don't have to be afraid,"* he said. *"I'm here to protect you."*

But the fear was stronger, and guilt was devouring me.

I came back to the present and looked at Dr. Rossetti, wondering if he could help me untangle the knot that was choking me.

*"Why does Vittorio insist that I see you?"* I asked, with a mix of suspicion and need.

He remained silent for a moment before speaking in a tone I couldn't interpret.

*"Because he knows you need someone outside the circle that has trapped you."*

My heart raced, and fear took hold of me again. What circle was he talking about? Who was truly trapped?

*"And you?"* I asked. *"Are you here to help me or to control me?"*

Dr. Rossetti smiled-a smile that held both enigma and promise.

*"Sometimes the line between helping and controlling is very thin,"* he said. *"But I promise you, my intention is to help you find the truth."*

His words were both a balm and a warning. I knew this path wouldn't be easy.

With every question, every pause, I felt my body tense and relax at once. The cold sweat, the nausea, and the ragged breathing were my constant companions.

But there was something in that relationship, in the dynamic between us, that awakened something unexpected: a forbidden desire, a dangerous tenderness.

Later, as I walked toward the exit, I felt Vittorio's gaze on me-like an invisible weight that crushed me and held me up at the same time.

He approached and took my hand without permission, with a gesture that combined affection and possession.

"What did he say?" he asked in a low, almost threatening voice.

I didn't answer. I only felt cold sweat running down my back, my heart pounding.

"Remember," he whispered. "Here you are safe. But don't forget who brought you here."

The ambiguity in his tone tore me apart. Was it a promise or a threat?

Back in my room, the shattered memory began to resurface slowly, like a puzzle being assembled piece by piece.

I saw images: a man with intense eyes, a muffled scream, a hand reaching out and then withdrawing.

The line between what was real and imagined blurred, and I was trapped in that limbo.

At night, as I tried to sleep, a new thought haunted me fiercely.

What if the truth Dr. Rossetti sought to uncover wasn't what I expected? What if I faced something worse than fear, desire, or guilt?

The cold of the room seeped into my bones, and I felt something changing inside me.

Something dark and powerful.

Just as I was about to close my eyes, I heard a whisper in the darkness, a voice that was neither mine nor Vittorio's.

"Don't trust him," the voice said. "He is not who he seems."

The cold turned to ice.

Who was warning me? And why?

I returned to the office the next day with a racing heart, as if a storm were about to break inside me. The memory of that whispering voice echoed in my head like a premonition.

Dr. Rossetti greeted me with his usual calm. He had that unsettling ability to make the room feel smaller and more intense at the same time. He looked at me with those dark eyes that seemed to hold infinite secrets, and I wondered how many of those secrets involved me.

"Today we'll explore something different," he said, opening his folder. "I'd like you to tell me about your dreams, if you remember them."

Dreams. That border between wakefulness and the abyss. I hardly remembered them, but I knew they were important fragments.

"I dreamed I was running through a garden," I began, my voice barely a whisper. "There were roses, but also thorns. I felt like something was chasing me, but I couldn't see what."

He nodded, writing delicately.

"The garden reflects your mind, Catalina. The roses are your desires and hopes; the thorns, your fears and betrayals."

I felt my body responding to his words: sweat mingled with desire, fear weaving through every breath. Vittorio wasn't there, but his presence lingered in every shadow of the room.

"And what about the person chasing you?" Rossetti asked. "Can you remember anything else?"

I closed my eyes and tried to let the image appear. But only a flash came: an outstretched hand, a broken promise, a muffled scream.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I only know I'm scared."

He moved a little closer, and I noticed the scent of his cologne, a smell of wood and wet earth, which made me feel strangely safe and vulnerable at the same time.

"Fear is the key to unlocking your memory," he said softly. "But we must handle it carefully."

In that moment, I felt a warmth rising from my stomach to my neck, mixing with the nausea that always accompanied me. It was a blend of desire and danger, as if I were about to fall into a trap I couldn't escape.

Suddenly, an image burst into my mind, more vivid than before. Vittorio, approaching me in the shadows, his hands firmly holding my face. His voice, soft and demanding:

"Don't worry, Catalina. I will take care of you."

But there was something in his gaze that made me pull away, a dark shadow I could not ignore.

Dr. Rossetti noticed my tension and softened his tone.

"Every memory you recover is a battle," he said. "But you are not alone."

I wanted to believe him, to cling to that promise, but guilt and confusion suffocated me.

"And what if the truth hurts?" I asked. "What if it destroys me?"

He looked at me with a mixture of understanding and firmness.

"Then we will rebuild the pieces together. But first, we must face what keeps you trapped."

The office door opened abruptly, and a nurse came in with a coffee.

"Here you go, Catalina. To help with your anxiety."

The bitter aroma hit me, mingling with sweat and fear. I took the cup with trembling hands and sipped slowly, trying to calm the storm inside me.

Later, in the room, Vittorio appeared unannounced, with that charming smile that always confused me.

"How was it with the doctor?" he asked, his voice a whisper that brushed my skin.

I felt my body reacting without permission, a warmth rising from my chest, a desire difficult to control.

"Hard," I replied. "But I think I need to understand."

He moved closer and cupped my face in his hands, looking at me intensely.

"I just want to protect you, Catalina. Even if sometimes you don't know how."

His words melted me and broke me at the same time. I knew that behind that tenderness was a controlling, ambiguous, dangerous man.

A mixture of guilt and desire wrapped around me as I surrendered to that embrace that was both salvation and cage.

That night, in the darkness, the voices of the past began to whisper louder. Fragments of memories I didn't want to face: a fight, a betrayal, a secret guarded tooth and nail.

And in the midst of it all, Vittorio's figure, like a dark beacon guiding and blinding.

Fear, desire, guilt... everything intertwined in a dangerous dance I didn't know how to stop.

Just as sleep seemed to overcome me, I felt a cold touch on my wrist. I opened my eyes and saw a note slide under the door. I took it with trembling hands and read:

"Beware of those around you. The truth is darker than you imagine."

My pulse stopped.

Who had left that note? And what truth did it hide?

The silence of the night became unbearable, and I knew the battle had only just begun.