Berz1337 New - Hellhound Therapy Session

Berz1337’s fingers worked a rhythm against their knee. “He’s part of me. Not metaphorically — I can feel him. When I’m about to snap, he sits up, ears pricked, and the world tilts.” They glanced at the hellhound. “He eats the shame so I don’t have to. He keeps people away. He… protects me by destroying things.”

Dr. Marin nodded. “And does he ever get predictive? Does he warn you before he acts?”

“Language,” Berz1337 said. “The jokes I use as armor, the sharp edges. If I lose those, maybe I lose the only person who knows how to survive inside me. Maybe I become… soft. And I don’t know who gets to be soft.” hellhound therapy session berz1337 new

The hellhound’s tail tapped once, a dull drumbeat. It was listening. It was always listening.

They sat like that for a long, practical minute. The hellhound’s breathing slowed. Berz1337’s hands stopped trembling. Berz1337’s fingers worked a rhythm against their knee

The dog’s eyes blinked once, deliberately. A ripple like wind moved through its fur. “Kharon,” it accepted, as if the syllable fit into a place inside it.

The hellhound’s ears tilted. It liked the idea of a ritual. It liked rules. Berz1337 closed their eyes and, with a voice like someone admitting a secret, said, “Kharon.” When I’m about to snap, he sits up,

Dr. Marin wrote, then set the pen down. “When he protects you by pushing others away, what does that protect you from?”