6

It was haunted by something far more intimate, far more terrifying.

Something that wanted me—not to hurt me, but to possess me.

I could hear the whispers now, louder, clearer.

They swirled around me, brushing against my skin like the hands of a lover in the dark.

And the worst part?

A part of me liked it.

I wanted more.

3

ELIAS

The night felt heavy.

Sleep didn’t come easy, but when it did, it brought something far darker than rest.

The air in the room had turned dense, like the walls themselves were pressing down on me, suffocating me with their history.

I’d spent hours documenting the whispers, the faint touches—my notes sprawled across the desk—but the more I tried to ground myself in facts, the more elusive the truth became.

When I finally fell into a restless sleep, it happened.

I was no longer in the room.

Instead, I was in a place that felt familiar but warped, distorted.

The asylum walls were the same, but somehow brighter, alive with an eerie glow.

A figure appeared in the distance, her silhouette floating toward me.

Every part of me wanted to move, to run, but I couldn’t.

My feet felt rooted in place, as if the ground itself had swallowed me whole.

Then, she stepped into view.

Nina.

Her name slithered through my mind, but I knew her without needing to speak it.

She was ethereal, her long dark hair flowing behind her like smoke, her pale skin gleaming under the unnatural light.

Her eyes, deep pools of sorrow, fixed on me with a gaze that felt like ice scraping against my soul.

Yet, even as I stood there frozen, a strange heat coursed through me—something primal, something disturbing.

Her lips curled into a smile.

Cold.

Cruel.

She approached, every step echoing with a tension that made my pulse quicken.

My heart thudded, not in fear, but in anticipation.

She reached out, her fingers brushing the side of my face, and I shivered.

Her touch was cold, so cold it burned.

And yet, it ignited something in me—a desire I couldn’t control.

I wanted her to keep touching me, even as the terror coiled deep within my gut.

Her hand slid down my neck, her fingers grazing my chest, and a sharp gasp escaped my throat.

It was wrong, I knew it, but I couldn’t pull away.

The air between us seemed to hum with a magnetic force.

My skin prickled under her touch, and something inside me stirred—something dark, something forbidden.

Then she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear, and I felt her breath—icy and electric.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, the words sinking into me like claws.

My mind screamed for me to wake up, to break free, but my body betrayed me.

I stayed.

I let her take me deeper into her world.

She pushed me back, and I fell—not onto the hard, cold floor of the asylum, but onto something softer, something that smelled faintly of decay.

I didn’t care.

All I could see, all I could feel, was her.

Her weight pressed down on me, and I realized I was pinned, helpless beneath her as she straddled me.

Her eyes locked onto mine, her smile widening as she leaned in, her lips brushing against my neck.

A low, guttural moan slipped from my throat.

Pleasure and pain mingled into a single sharp edge, slicing through every coherent thought.

Her hands moved over my body, tracing lines of cold fire down my chest, my stomach, lower.

My breath hitched as she tore through the last of my resistance.

The pleasure was unbearable, almost suffocating, but underneath it lurked something more sinister.

There was a hunger in her touch, a possessiveness that terrified me, but I couldn’t stop it.

I didn’t want to.

Her body pressed against mine, her movements fluid, serpentine.

Every touch sent jolts of electricity through my veins.

I tried to focus, to remember that this was a dream, that she wasn’t real, but the line between reality and fantasy blurred as she pulled me deeper into her embrace.

My vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges as her nails dug into my skin.