OBSESSION
That night, the moon was a pale, lifeless disc hanging high in the sky. The wind howled like a distant wail, carrying with it a chill that cut through the air like a knife. The trees outside groaned and creaked, their branches thrashing violently against the night, casting distorted, claw-like shadows on the walls of Gwen's apartment. The very hinges of the windows trembled and squealed, as if they, too, were in torment.
The room felt suffocating—dishevelled and haunted by the remnants of who she used to be. The clutter of books and dark spell papers were strewn across the floor, untouched for days, their pages stained with magical symbols she no longer has the strength or will to decipher.
A single flickering candle on the desk casted trembling shadows on the walls. Gwen sat slumped on the edge of her bed, staring blankly into the dim light. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of an old photograph of Grandpa Max—a picture taken years ago, back when life made sense, back when she still had hope. His smile radiates warmth, a sharp contrast to the cold emptiness that now gripped her heart.
It had been nearly two years since she started down this path, two years since the fire inside her, once fueled by love and ambition, turned into a raging inferno of obsession and darkness. She had given everything—her time, her energy, even her morality—to the promise that she could bring him back. But now? Now there's nothing left.
The apartment was silent, save for the occasional flicker of the candle's flame. Gwen's thoughts wandered back to the countless violence she had committed. Sacrifices, be it animals or even humans. Sure, her victims were all criminals. She told herself that she was doing the world justice by stopping them for good. She had been so certain then, so convinced that she was right. She had crossed the line, and she hadn't even cared.
But now… now the weight of that decision suffocated her. The fire that once drove her had been extinguished, leaving only ash and hollow emptiness behind. She had lost everything—her principles, her identity, even her soul feels fractured, scattered across the countless spells and dark rituals she's performed.
Gwen let the photograph slip from her hands, watching it flutter to the floor like a withered leaf. She didn't bend down to pick it up. Instead, she rose slowly, her body feeling heavy, as if the air itself was pressing down on her.
She knew she was at the edge of something. Some lines she couldn't cross. Her chest tightened as she moved to her desk, her eyes grazing over the worn spellbooks and dark tomes she had once believed would hold all the answers. They felt foreign to her now, like the relics of another person's life.
Gwen stood there for a long moment, the flickering light of the candle casting her shadow across the wall, and she wondered if she could even be saved anymore. The thought was fleeting, quickly replaced by the familiar, crushing sense of hopelessness. She didn't know who she was without the dark magic, without the desperate need to bring Max back.
But now she knew it was too late. There was nothing she could do. Max was gone. The realisation tore through her like a blade, but her eyes remained dry, her face expressionless. She was long past tears.
In a rare flicker of resolve, Gwen blew out the candle on her desk, casting the room in darkness. She was numb. She knew she needed to calm down, to stop the storm inside her head before it consumed her completely. There was only one thing left to try—meditation.
She dragged herself across the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the scattered books and papers that had once been her life. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as she closed her eyes, trying to find some sense of peace within herself, something that wasn't drowned in the shadows of regret and guilt.
But it was hard. So hard.
Gwen placed her hands on her knees, her posture straightening as she attempted to steady her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Focus. But the silence felt oppressive, like the walls were closing in. Her mind swirled with flashes of the past—Ben and Kevin's voices, pleading with her to stop. The cold look in her eyes as she had turned away from them, thinking only of the power she needed to save Max.
Inhale. Exhale. She could do this. She had to calm down. She had done this before—back when her mind wasn't so fragmented. But now, every breath felt heavier, and the darkness in her chest tightened like a vice. She tried to focus, to empty her mind, but the harder she tried, the louder her thoughts became.
The memories of her failures, of the lives she had destroyed, refused to stay quiet. They rose like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her. She clenched her fists, trying to shut them out, to force them away. It was a desperate attempt to silence the cacophony of voices that clawed at the edges of her sanity.
Inhale. Exhale.
But just as she started to feel herself slip into a shallow sense of calm, a sudden, cold chill swept through the room.
"Gwen," a voice hissed, slithering through the silence like a serpent. Gwen's eyes snapped open, her breath hitching in her throat. The voice had been so close, as if it had whispered directly into her ear. She glanced around the room, her heart pounding, but there was nothing—no one. She was alone.
"Gwen," the voice came again, this time multiplied, layered with countless whispers, each one merging into the other in a chorus of malevolent murmurs. It was as if a thousand voices were speaking at once, each one vying for her attention, each one dripping with malice.
Her gaze was drawn, as if by an invisible hand, to the spellbook lying open on the table—the Ancient Codex of Verdonna. Its pages seemed to pulse with a dark energy, the ancient symbols inscribed upon them writhing and shifting as though alive. Gwen's eyes widened, her body moving on its own accord as she slowly rose from her bed, unable to resist the pull of the book.
The temperature in the room plummeted. Gwen could see her breath misting in the air, her skin prickling with goosebumps as the cold seeped into her bones. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch and twist, reaching out like tendrils, as if eager to consume her. Time itself felt distorted, each second dragging on for an eternity, as though the very fabric of reality was being stretched thin.
The desk lamp beside the book flickered violently, casting erratic flashes of light that made the shadows dance with frenetic energy. The trees outside whipped against the windows with renewed fury, their branches scratching at the glass like desperate claws trying to break through. The curtains fluttered wildly, caught in a wind that seemed to originate from within the room, a wind that carried with it the faintest echoes of a long-forgotten language.
But despite the growing terror, Gwen was helplessly drawn forward. Her legs moved as though weighted down by chains, her steps heavy and deliberate, each one echoing ominously in the silence. The voices grew louder, their whispers swelling into a cacophonous roar that filled her mind, drowning out her own thoughts.
As she approached the book even closer, Gwen's mind raced. Despite the chilly, cold windy night, Gwen's t-shirt was damp, humid from her own sweat. It was unmistakable. The whispers, the murmurs, the voices were palpable. The book had a voice of its own, whispering her forbidden temptations.
Gwen's heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic beat that seemed to resonate in her ears. She reached the table, her hand hovering over the book, trembling with a mixture of fear and compulsion. The pages of the Codex seemed to flicker, the symbols rearranging themselves into shapes she couldn't comprehend, yet felt an unnatural familiarity with.
Gwen realised what the book was trying to tell her. The knowledge that was out of her reach- forbidden, locked away from her, suddenly was so close to her, as if a veil has just been lifted in an instant. It's as if all the roads have led to this.
Yet it never felt this wrong.
Gwen's eyes widened in disbelief as she realised what perverted knowledge that it whispered to her. "No…" Gwen's voice cracked, the words stuck in her mouth. "No, no, no. This is wrong."
"Gwen," this time, another voice called out to her. The voice was firm, yet something felt odd, sinister pumped into the voice.
Gwen frantically looked around. Her gaze snapped to a framed portrait on her bedside table. The portrait seemed to be oozing with a strange, malevolent aura.
She warily approaches the portrait, her eyes locked in like steel, as if she is trying to catch it moving.
It was of her, Ben, and Grandpa Max, taken during happier times at the state's amusement park. Ben was pouting, still annoyed at not being tall enough to ride the roller coaster, and Gwen was teasing him, caught in a moment of innocent laughter. Grandpa Max looked so full of life, his eyes crinkling with joy as he watched them.
For a moment, the warmth of the memory broke through the suffocating dread, bringing a fleeting smile to Gwen's lips. But then, the atmosphere shifted. The shadows in the room deepened, the whispers grew louder, and the portrait… the portrait began to change.
Gwen watched in horror as Grandpa Max's expression shifted from one of warmth to one of cold malevolence. His eyes, once filled with kindness, now bore into her with a sinister intensity. The smile on his face twisted into something cruel, something that did not belong to him.
Gwen let out a strangled gasp, dropping the frame as though it had burned her. The glass shattered on the floor, the sound sharp and final, echoing in the oppressive silence that followed. She stood there, frozen in place, her heart hammering in her chest, unable to comprehend what she had just seen.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally forced herself to move. She knelt down, her hands trembling as she reached for the portrait, dreading what she might see. But when she turned it over, the picture was normal—just a photograph of a happier time, untouched by the horror she had just witnessed.
Gwen's breath came in ragged gasps as she stared at the photo, trying to convince herself that it was just her mind playing tricks on her.
"I'm so sorry, Grandpa," she stopped. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want any of this."
A low, insidious whisper began to echo in her mind, but this time it's different—more personal, more venomous.
"Sorry? You're sorry? It's too late for that, Gwen. It's your fault he's gone. You could've saved him, but you were too weak." The voice taunted her. Gwen flinched, her grip on the photo tightening as her heart raced. She tried to shake off the voice, but it grew louder, more accusatory.
"You had the power, Gwen. You could've protected him, but you failed. He's dead because of you." The voice continued, but this time, stronger and more accusatory.
Gwen's breath caught in her throat, her tears flowing freely now. The voice dug deeper, twisting the knife of guilt and sorrow in her heart.
"No... no, that's not true." Gwen whispered desperately. "I tried... I tried to save him…"
"Tried? You didn't try hard enough. You were too focused on your own fear, your own doubts. And now, look at what you've become—a failure, just like you were that day."
"No, please–" A voice interrupted her.
"You don't get it, do you Gwen?" the voice suddenly continued. Gwen turned around and came to a halt against the mirror of her room.
The darkness in her room twisted and swirled around as it started gathering itself in the middle of the mirror. Slowly but surely, it began to take form. Gwen, bewildered, gasped as the form started to appear as a figure so close and familiar to her. Grandpa Max.
His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow and filled with pain. His skin, once full of life, now appeared pale and ghostly, almost as if decaying. He looked at Gwen with an expression of deep disappointment and sorrow.
"G-g-g-grandpa Max?" She trembled, stuttering.
"Gwen... why didn't you save me? Why did you let me die?" Grandpa Max sighed, hollowed and pained.
Gwen gasped, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the apparition. Her mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of guilt, fear, and disbelief. She tried to speak, to explain herself, but the words caught in her throat.
"Grandpa, I— I didn't mean to... I didn't know what to do...:" her voice choked.
"You were always so smart, so capable." The twisted image of Grandpa Max resumed its accusation. "But when it mattered most, you failed. You let me die, Gwen. My blood is on your hands."
The voices tormented Gwen, a cruel chorus echoing in her mind. "He's right, Gwen. You let him die. You're weak. You're worthless. This is all your fault."
The candles flickered violently, their flames growing tall and wild, casting monstrous shadows on the walls. The room seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with the weight of her guilt and grief. The twisted image of Grandpa Max loomed over her, his eyes burning with accusation.
"Bring me back, Gwen," the sinister figure of her grandfather commanded, his voice dripping with malevolence. "You owe me that much. Use your power—use the dark magic you've been playing with. It's the only way to make this right."
Gwen's hands shook uncontrollably as she reached for the spellbook, her mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Deep down, she knew this wasn't her grandfather—this was something dark and malevolent, twisting her grief and fear into something monstrous. But the weight of her guilt was too heavy, the pressure too immense.
"I... I just wanted to save you... to fix everything..." Gwen whispered, her voice broken and filled with despair.
"Then do it, Gwen," the twisted image of Grandpa Max demanded. "Finish the spell. Bring me back. Or are you going to fail me again?"
Gwen's resolve crumbled under the relentless assault of the voices and the twisted image of her grandfather. Her mind was torn between the desperate desire to make things right and the overwhelming fear that she had already lost everything. The darkness around her thickened, pressing in on her like a vise, squeezing out any remaining hope or light.
With trembling hands, she opened the spellbook, her eyes scanning the ancient, cursed words. The room grew colder, the shadows more oppressive, as the twisted image of Grandpa Max watched her with cold, unforgiving eyes.
"Read the spell, Gwen," the voices commanded in unison. "Bring him back. It's your only chance at redemption."
Gwen's vision blurred as she began to recite the incantation, her voice shaking with fear and desperation. The air around her crackled with dark energy, the candles flickering wildly as the room seemed to warp and twist under the influence of the dark magic.
As she stumbled over the words, the pressure mounted, the twisted image of Grandpa Max stepping closer, looming over her with an almost predatory presence. His voice lowered to a menacing whisper in her ear, "This is your fault, Gwen. All of it. You made your choice—now live with it."
The torment became unbearable. The voices grew louder, more accusatory, more manipulative. "You failed him! You're the reason he's gone! You're the monster now!" they shouted, cruel and relentless.
Gwen's mind spiralled, the words echoing in her skull like a relentless hammer, each accusation driving deeper into her psyche. The apparition of Grandpa Max grew more twisted, his features warping into something monstrous, grotesque, a hideous mockery of the man she loved.
"Stop... please, stop! Stop tormenting me! I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...!" Gwen sobbed, pleading with the voices that wouldn't relent.
She clutched her head, trying to drown out the voices, but they only grew louder, more overpowering. The twisted image of Grandpa Max laughed—a low, cruel sound that echoed through the room.
"Sorry? It's too late for that, Gwen. It's far too late," the image mocked, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Stop, stop, please stop! Stopstopstopstopstopst—!" Gwen's voice broke as she screamed, her desperation consuming her. In a sudden, frantic motion, she grabbed the spellbook and hurled it across the room. The book crashed into a tall, ornate mirror, shattering it into countless shards. The sound of breaking glass filled the air, the shards scattering across the floor. For a moment, the twisted image of Grandpa Max disappeared, leaving Gwen panting, her heart racing.
But as the last piece of glass fell, Gwen's eyes widened in horror. The twisted image of Grandpa Max remained—now reflected in each shattered fragment of the mirror. His distorted face appeared in every shard, his eyes burning with malevolence, his smile twisted into something that barely resembled humanity.
Gwen stared in disbelief, her breath hitching as the twisted figure stepped forward, appearing in every shard as though the mirror was still whole. His voice, now a sinister whisper, echoed from every direction, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog.
"You can't escape me, Gwen," the twisted image of Grandpa Max echoed. "No matter where you turn, I'll be here... watching... waiting... reminding you of what you've done."
Gwen's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by the shards of broken glass, each piece reflecting the twisted image of her grandfather. Her hands trembled as she clutched her head, trying to block out the voices, the horrific sight before her.
But it was no use. The voices continued to torment her, the image of Grandpa Max watching her from every angle, a constant, inescapable reminder of her guilt and failure. The darkness in the room thickened, the air growing colder as Gwen's sanity frayed at the edges, the horror of her situation becoming unbearable.
The candles flickered one last time before extinguishing completely, plunging the room into darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the shards of broken glass, each one still reflecting the twisted image of Grandpa Max, his eyes following Gwen as she cowered on the floor, her mind shattered by the relentless torment.