[LilithLocke]

Therapy Day One: The Truth is Known

The soft ticking of the clock fills the room as Lilith Locke, a woman in her early thirties, sits across from Dr. Harris in a quiet, cozy therapy office. Lilith fidgets in her seat, her hands tightly clasped together, eyes fixed on the floor as Dr. Harris starts the session. The session begins by Doctor Harris speaking up first.

“Good afternoon, Lilith. It’s good to see you today. How are you feeling?”

Lilith pauses, her voice soft but tense.

“I’m... I’m not sure, honestly. It’s like I’m stuck, Dr. Harris. Like I can’t escape this... this thing with Kevin. I don’t know why I can’t just let it go. Every time I try, it just gets worse. I even signed up to work at Sin City Wrestling, just to get closer to him.”

Dr. Harris nods, listening to what she has to say.

“I hear you, Lilith. It sounds like things are becoming more difficult for you. We’ve talked before about your thoughts and feelings around Kevin Carter, but it seems like things have been escalating recently. Can you tell me more about what's been happening?”

Lilith exhales, her hands trembling slightly.

“I’ve... I’ve done things that I’m not proud of. It’s like I can’t control it. First week, after his match, I begged him for an autograph—just... just hoping maybe he'd look at me and see me for once. But he didn’t. He looked at me like I was crazy. And then, there was the time I... I helped him get into the building. I knew he’d been escorted out, but I just couldn’t stand to see him outside. I thought... I thought if I helped him, maybe he’d... notice me. Maybe he’d appreciate me.”

Dr. Harris writes down a few notes on what she’s saying, trying to see if this obsession is something he needs to really worry about.

“It seems like you’re feeling rejected by him in those moments, which must be really difficult. Can you tell me more about what you were hoping for when you asked for the autograph or helped him get in? What was going through your mind?”

Lilith her voice falters as she speaks, avoiding eye contact.

“I thought... if I just get close enough, if I just get him to see me, even for a second, then maybe I’d finally matter. I know it’s stupid, but when I see him, it’s like... everything else fades away. For a moment, I feel like I’m seen. Like I’m someone. And I thought that if I kept pushing, if I just kept showing up, maybe... maybe he’d notice me in a way that felt real. It doesn’t make sense, I know.”

Dr. Harris nods their head, finally starting to make sense of everything.

“It makes sense to want to feel seen and acknowledged, especially if you’ve been feeling invisible in other parts of your life. Kevin, being a public figure, might feel like a way to get that attention and validation. Can you talk a little about how it feels when you’re close to him, or when you interact with him? What is that like for you?”

Lilith softly, almost in a trance like state.

“When I’m near him, I feel like I exist. Like I’m not just a shadow walking through the halls. Everything else feels meaningless, but when I’m close to Kevin... I feel real. I know it’s unhealthy, and I know it’s wrong to do the things I’ve done, but when I see him, I just... I feel like I have to try, like it’s my only shot at being someone. That’s the only time I feel... valuable.”

Dr. Harris, tilts their head, before looking over their notepad at Lilith.

“It sounds like Kevin represents something much deeper for you. It’s not just about him—it's about a longing for connection and a sense of self-worth. But the actions you’ve been taking, like helping him when he wasn’t supposed to be there or begging for an autograph, are starting to feel like ways of seeking validation at any cost. Do you see that?”

Lilith looks down at her lap, the guilt evident in her voice. She was playing the doctor's game.

“Yeah. I see it now. It’s like I don’t know how else to get that feeling. When I’m not with him, it’s like I’m... nothing. I just fade away. I’ve tried everything else—work, relationships, hobbies—but none of that fills the void. But when I’m near him, even just for a second, it feels like everything makes sense.”

Dr. Harris takes a moment, before speaking up.

“You’re trying to fill a void, a feeling of being unnoticed or unimportant. But that void isn’t something that another person—no matter who they are—can fill permanently. It’s an internal process. What would it look like for you to start finding ways to feel seen without depending on Kevin or anyone else for validation?”

Lilith shakes her head slowly, her voice full of doubt.

“I don’t know if I can. I’ve spent so long chasing after this feeling... I don’t even know what it would look like to not need him for that. I’m not sure I even know how to feel important without him or someone else noticing me. I’ve tried focusing on other things, but it just... doesn’t work. All I can think about is him, about getting that approval, about being someone.”

Dr. Harris shook his head.

“It’s understandable, Lilith. It’s not easy to shift away from something that’s been a source of comfort, even if it’s unhealthy. But part of our work together will be about finding ways for you to reconnect with yourself, with the parts of you that don’t rely on others to feel validated. It will take time, but we can start by finding ways to build your self-worth from the inside. Can you think of a time, even just a small moment, where you felt good about yourself without anyone else’s approval?”

Lilith pauses, thinking hard about everything, all that’s been said.

“I guess... when I’m at work, and I do something right, like when I pull off a move in the ring that feels just perfect. It’s not the same as when Kevin notices me, but for a second, I feel... like I’m good enough. Like I’ve done something well.”

Dr. Harris nods their head, trying to let her work through it herself.

“That’s a really important realization. That moment when you do something in the ring—that’s you, at your best. That’s not dependent on anyone else’s validation. How can we build on that feeling and start to create more moments where you feel that internal sense of accomplishment, without relying on others to validate it?”

Lilith her voice softens, the weight of the conversation sinking in.

“I guess I could focus more on what I enjoy about wrestling itself. Like, not just doing things to get noticed, but doing them because I love the sport. Maybe if I started there... I’d stop needing it so much from him right?”

Dr. Harris nods his head.

“That’s a great start. Reconnecting with your own love for the sport, focusing on your own achievements, and allowing yourself to be proud of those moments—without needing external validation—could be a powerful way to rebuild your sense of self-worth. It’s not about getting rid of your desire to feel connected or seen, but about finding healthier, more sustainable ways to meet those needs.”

Lilith smiled faintly, playing the doctors game. She know what to say to get the doctor to believe her.

“I’ll try... I know it won’t be easy, but maybe it’s time to start. I can’t keep living like this.”

Dr. Harris nods their head.

“I’m really proud of you for acknowledging that, Lilith. It’s going to be a process, but you’ve already taken the first step by realizing that things need to change. For next week, let’s work on some concrete goals—maybe focusing on strengthening your personal connection to wrestling, or finding another passion outside of it that gives you fulfillment.”

Lilith nods her head slowly, her voice more confident than before.

“Okay. I’ll give it a try. Thank you, Dr. Harris.”

The session wraps up as Lilith stands to leave, a sense of cautious optimism in the air. Dr. Harris offers her a reassuring smile, and Lilith returns it, though still uncertain about the journey ahead.



[STATIC.]

The screen flickers. Darkness.

Then—a sickly violet glow seeps into view. A cracked mirror. A reflection that isn’t quite right. A wide-eyed Lilith Locke, her pupils blown like an animal that’s just caught the scent of blood. She giggles. A sound too sweet, too childlike to belong to something so… wrong.

“Ohhh, Song~”

Her voice drips like honey laced with poison. She tilts her head, the mirror-image stuttering, glitching—like it’s struggling to keep up with her movements.

“You move like the wind, don’t you? So elegant. So graceful. Like a little leaf, twirling, spinning, floating... and then…”

She SLAMS her fist into the mirror. A spiderweb of cracks erupts across the glass, distorting her reflection into something monstrous.

“…CRUSHED under my boot.”

Lilith drags a trembling finger across her lips, smearing her black lipstick like a smudged inkblot test.

“Tai chi, balance, peace—how adorable. Do you think that’ll save you? You think a deep breath and inner tranquility will stop me from digging my fingers into your soft, fragile little throat and squeezing until your ‘chi’ is nothing but a pathetic wheeze?”

She chuckles again, biting her bottom lip until the taste of copper blooms on her tongue.

“You are an artist, aren’t you? Every movement, a dance. Every strike, a brushstroke. But I?”

She lifts a trembling hand, caked in crimson—whether it’s paint, blood, or something else entirely is anyone’s guess.

“I am destruction. I am chaos. I don’t make art, Song—I unmake it. I take something beautiful and I RIP IT APART, and ohhh, it is the most delicious thing to witness.”

The camera pulls back. We see her now, hunched over a canvas—no, not a canvas. A wall. A wall covered in erratic, manic scribblings. Drawings of broken limbs. Shattered spines. Dismembered dolls with Xs for eyes. And there, in the center, smeared in deep, violent red—three words.

LILITH EATS SONG.

A long silence. Then—

A sharp, sudden inhale. Her eyes snap wide. Her grin stretches.

“See you soon, little dancer.”

The screen flickers again, the violet hue painting the corners of the room in unsettling shades. Shadows twist in unnatural directions as though they are alive. The camera shakes violently as it slowly zooms in, revealing the outline of Lilith standing in the center of a room that is completely devoid of furniture. The floor is a glossy black, like a pool of ink that reflects nothing. The walls seem to pulse, throbbing as if the very air is thickening, suffocating under the weight of her presence.

The room feels wrong, out of place, like it shouldn’t exist in the real world. It’s as if the space itself has been distorted, twisted by Lilith’s energy, her madness, leaving only a fractured version of reality behind. The atmosphere is thick, cloying. You can almost feel the weight of the walls pressing in from all sides, closing in around you.

Lilith stands still, her head cocked to one side, her eyes wide, far too wide—unnaturally large pupils swallowing her irises whole. Her lips stretch into a grotesque grin, but there’s no joy in it. There’s nothing but hunger. The same primal, insatiable hunger she’s always carried.

“Do you see it yet, Song? Do you see how everything around you is bending, warping, breaking under the strain of me?”

Her voice is a low, guttural whisper, but it reverberates through the air like a thunderclap, heavy and oppressive. The camera shakes again as if the entire world itself is quivering in response to her words.

She laughs. It’s slow at first, soft, almost mocking, but it spirals, quickly building in volume, until it’s manic and violent, splitting the air. The walls around her pulse faster in rhythm with the crescendo of her laughter, and suddenly, they begin to bleed—thick, dark veins of liquid pouring from the seams, dripping down to the floor. It’s like the very room is alive, infected by Lilith’s touch.

She walks forward, her feet barely making a sound, like she’s gliding through the blackness. The camera tilts, following her movements with a sense of dread that grows heavier with each passing second.

“You thought I would be content with just a little destruction? That I’d be satisfied with just breaking things?”

Lilith’s voice curls around her words like a viper, venomous and cruel.

“No, no, no, Song. I want to unmake everything. I want to watch it all dissolve into nothingness. I want to hear the silence after the screams have ended.”

Her hands twitch, fingers curling into claws that scrape against the air, as if she’s drawing power from the nothingness surrounding her. She moves towards a cracked mirror that now hangs in the corner, its surface shattered, pieces hanging by thin strands of glass. Each piece reflects a fragment of her face, but none of them align perfectly. Each piece is wrong. Twisted.

She presses her palm against the mirror. The glass fractures further beneath her touch, each crack spreading like the web of a spider, growing faster, more violent, until the whole thing shatters, sending shards falling to the floor with a deafening crash.

“Do you hear it, Song?”

Lilith whispers, bending down to pick up a shard of glass. She holds it up to her eye, peering through it with manic fascination.

“The sound of reality breaking? Of everything you hold dear cracking open?”

She lowers the shard, her eyes never leaving the camera.

“I can feel it, you know. The tension in the air. The way your heart races. The way your mind tries to keep hold of the pieces that are falling apart.”

Suddenly, she smashes the shard against the floor. The impact is sharp, brutal. The sound echoes around the room, reverberating off the walls like a slap against reality itself.

“I can feel your mind breaking, Song. The fracture in your thoughts. It’s so delicious. So perfect. And when you crack? When your soul splits apart at the seams?”

Lilith’s grin widens.

“That’s when I’ll eat you. That’s when I’ll feast on everything you’ve ever been.”

The camera shifts, spinning erratically, as though it’s struggling to hold onto any semblance of stability. There’s a new sound now—a wet, squelching noise that grows louder with every passing moment. Something dripping. Something thick. Something unnatural.

The floor beneath Lilith begins to shift, transforming into a liquid black tar, thick and viscous, bubbling like an open wound. She steps into it, unbothered, as the substance rises around her ankles. Her gaze locks with the camera, and for a moment, her pupils seem to disappear entirely, leaving only the black void of her eyes. The tar continues to rise, creeping up her legs, her torso, until it’s at her chest. The substance is alive, pulsing with a twisted energy, drawing her deeper, like it’s consuming her from the inside out.

“You think this is death, don’t you?”

She murmurs, her voice muffled as the tar engulfs her.

“But it’s not. It’s just the beginning. The real fun begins when there’s no way out. When you’re drowning in your own mind, suffocating in your thoughts, while I sit back and watch it all unfold. Watch you break.”

The camera shakes violently as Lilith's form is swallowed whole by the tar, her body consumed by the viscous, sentient liquid, and the screen flickers again—this time, darker. The noise grows—scraping, tearing, like something is trying to claw its way out.

Suddenly, the image cuts to black. The sound of screaming fills the void. Screams that echo and distort, twisting into each other, merging into one unified, maddened sound. The screen shudders under the pressure of it, as if it might tear itself apart at any moment.

When the screen flickers back to life, the scene has changed entirely. Now, it’s a sprawling, endless landscape—no trees, no animals. Just a vast, open expanse of cracked earth, stretching as far as the eye can see. The sky above is a sickly green, swirling with clouds that churn and twist like something alive. The air is thick, almost suffocating, charged with a palpable, crackling energy.

In the distance, Lilith appears, standing tall against the horizon, her form silhouetted against the chaotic sky. Her hair is a wild, tangled mass, her clothes torn and hanging from her body like a ragged flag. Her eyes are black holes, pulling everything into them.

“Do you see it now?”

She calls, her voice ringing out across the barren landscape, distorted by the wind.

“Do you see the void? The nothingness that’s waiting for you? Waiting for all of us?”

She starts to walk, the ground beneath her cracking and splitting with each step. As she moves, the earth around her begins to crumble, swallowed by the abyss that seems to follow in her wake. It’s as if she’s dragging the world down with her, unraveling the very fabric of reality. Behind her, there’s nothing but an endless chasm, yawning wide, ready to devour everything.

“You can try to escape.”

She sings, her voice sweet and mocking.

“But there’s no escaping me. There’s no escaping the abyss I’ve carved into this world.”

Her laughter echoes, a maddened cackle that bounces off the walls of the void, distorting everything it touches.

“You think I’m the end? Oh, no. I’m the beginning. I’m the first crack in the mirror, the first crack in your soul. I’m the thing that comes before the end, the thing that turns everything to dust. I am the chaos before the order. And I will consume you. I will unmake you.”

The camera shakes violently again, the earth trembling beneath her feet. The cracks grow larger, wider, swallowing everything in their path. And yet, Lilith moves forward, her eyes gleaming with manic delight.

“I can hear it.”

She whispers, her voice now soft and intimate, as if she’s speaking directly to you.

“I can hear your heartbeat. Faster now. Thumping, racing. Your pulse pounding in your ears as the world falls apart around you. But it’s too late, Song. Too late to stop it. Too late to save yourself.”

She turns, her body jerking unnaturally, like a puppet on frayed strings. Her grin is wide, unhinged. Her voice rises to a screeching crescendo.

“It’s already begun!”

She shrieks, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“It’s already started. The end. The unmaking.”

With a final, deafening laugh, she lunges toward the camera, her form distorting and breaking, as the screen cracks into a million pieces.

[STATIC.]

The screen flickers again, and now we’re somewhere else. A dimly lit room, a wooden chair in the center. The walls are covered in paper—pages torn from books, newspapers, handwritten notes. Each piece of paper has the same word scrawled on it, over and over.

SONG. SONG. SONG. SONG.

Lilith steps into view, her bare feet soundless against the cold floor. She hums, her voice lilting, eerie, a lullaby from a nightmare. She runs her fingers across the pages, her touch almost… affectionate.

“Do you feel it yet?”

She whispers.

“That tiny, nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach? That little whisper in the back of your mind telling you to run?”

She suddenly SNATCHES a page from the wall, crumpling it in her fist. Her breathing quickens. Her fingers twitch.

“But you won’t run. Because you believe in balance. You believe in control. You think you can center yourself and face me like some noble warrior.”

She presses the crumpled page to her lips, inhales deeply, and then—

She eats it.

Chews it. Swallows it whole.

Lilith closes her eyes, savoring the moment. Then, she licks her lips and leans in close to the camera.

“But what happens… when I throw you off balance? What happens… when I don’t play by the rules of your little dance?”

She presses a finger to her lips.

“Shhh. Don’t answer. I want to see for myself.”

She steps back. The lights flicker. The papers on the walls start to peel and flutter to the ground as if some unseen force is breathing against them.

A final whisper, dripping with wicked glee—

“Goodnight, my sweetest Song.”

[STATIC.]

The feed returns. But now it’s shaky, handheld. The screen bobs and wobbles as if someone is moving through a hallway. Heavy, uneven breathing can be heard. A single dim light flickers overhead, casting eerie, shifting shadows against the walls.

Lilith’s voice hums through the darkness. But she isn’t on screen yet.

“Do you know what I love, Song?”

The camera swings wildly, revealing deep scratch marks on the walls—gouged in by fingernails, maybe something sharper. Symbols. Spirals. Jagged hearts, split in two.

“I love the moment… right before a scream.”

The camera turns a corner—

And there she is.

Lilith sits on the floor, cross-legged, surrounded by dozens of dolls. Faceless. Limbs twisted. Some missing heads. In her lap, she holds a porcelain one with a painted-on smile. Her fingers twitch along its throat.

“That little intake of breath. That split second where the brain realizes—oh, no. This is real.”

She tightens her grip on the doll’s neck until CRACK—

The head pops clean off, rolling to the side, shattering as it hits the floor.

Lilith exhales slowly, a shudder of pleasure washing over her.

“I wonder… how long it will take for you to break?”

She stands now, stepping over the wreckage of broken dolls, letting the glass crunch beneath her feet. Her head tilts, her grin stretching wider as the camera shakes in her presence.

“You like to move, don’t you? You like to flow like water, like the wind. But what happens, Song, when I clip your pretty little wings?”

A sudden SNAP—the screen glitches as Lilith lunges, her face right up against the lens, her eyes wild, manic, starving.

“What happens… when I drown you?”

The screen distorts again. Static. Then—

A flash of something. Water. Rushing. Gurgling. The sound of desperate splashing, something struggling beneath the surface.

A hand. Fingers clawing. Reaching.

And Lilith’s voice, sweet as sugar—

“Shhh. Just let it happen.”

More static.

When the screen stabilizes, Lilith is sitting in a bathtub, fully clothed, her body half-submerged in dark, blood red water. Her hair sticks to her face, dripping, her breath slow and controlled. A single red petal floats beside her.

Her fingers trace lazy circles in the water. She looks up, lips parting slightly as if she’s about to say something profound—

Then she lets herself slip beneath the surface.

The water stills. Silence.

Nothing.

Then—

A violent, thrashing explosion as Lilith BURSTS from the water, gasping, laughing, her eyes gleaming with electric, unhinged delight.

She leans forward, water dripping from her chin as she whispers, almost lovingly—

“I can’t wait to feel you struggle.”

[STATIC.]

Fade to black.