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###006: THE SHIFT
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2026-02-26 16:28:29
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HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect ###006: THE SHIFT
//VESPER//The work was a blur.Not the good kind where hours disappear because you’re busy. It’s the bad kind where you’re standing right there, pouring coffee into cups that stopped existing.“Vesper! Table six has been waiting ten minutes.”I blinked, looking down at the pot in my hand. Coffee were already everywhere.“Oh, god! Sorry. Sorry, I—”The customer just rolled her eyes on me. “Just move.”I moved, but my body was there and my brain wasn’t. It was left in my bedroom, pinned under those fingers.Frankie yelled at me thrice more before noon. First for mixing up orders, I gave the burger to the vegan, the salad to the trucker, and standing at the counter staring at nothing while the coffee burned.“You look like shit.”“Thanks.”She sighs helplessly, throwing the rag cloth into the counter. “I’m serious. You okay? Is this about the incident?”No, it’s more like about the man who saved. I wanted to tell her that, to spill everything about the file, the grotesque gifts, the way
HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect ###005: THE MONSTER
//Vesper//I didn’t sleep, not even a blink.After Frankie’s, after burying evidence in my backyard, after three showers that didn’t make me feel clean. My still eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling while laying in bed.He’d come twice now.Twice while I slept.Twice I’d woken up to find gifts I never asked for.Not tonight.Tonight, I’d be ready.I changed into my oldest pajamas, the ones with the faded flowers and the hole near the collar. Turn off the light and pulled the covers to my chin.…and waited.The clock on my nightstand glowed 11:47, 12:23, 1:08, 2:15.My eyes burned, my body begged for rest, but every time I started to drift, I pinched my arm hard enough to leave marks.Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake.3:42.4:01.I was going to lose, I could feel it, the pull of sleep dragging me under. My eyelids heavy, my brain fuzzy, and just a few minutes. Just a quick—*Click*He’s here. I fought the urge to keep my eyes open, but no. I kept them closed, turning my breathi
HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect ###004: THE GIFT
//VESPER//“Wait!” I yelled, finally strength to move my feet.“Vesper, don’t!”Frankie’s shout faded behind as I sprinted outside, immediately lashed by the rain and blurring my vision. I looked left toward the alley, right toward the main street and to the sidewalk. No car or sprinting figure, not even a shadow. He had vanished into thin air and once again becoming my ghost.My body was trembling so hard as I went inside. The man was still hunched over the table, spitting out crumpled, spit-soaked hundreds, his wrist hanging at a wrong angle.Frankie was already there, her face pale but her eyes sharp, looking at the blood on the floor before noticing me.“Vesper.” She hurried to my side and gripped my shoulders firmly. “You’re done for today.”“Frankie, I can clean this—”“No.” she cut me off, casting a wary glance at the door. “That man… he wasn’t just some drifter, honey. I’ve seen a lot of things in this city, trust me, you need to go home. Now.” She reached into the register
HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect ###003: THE STRANGER
//VESPER//I’d been staring at the bullet for ten minutes. It was small enough to fit in my palm, but that didn’t make it less catastrophic.Taking it to the police station was the smartest thing to do. To file a report that someone broke into my place while I was sleeping and left me a bullet with a dried blood on it. That’s a major threat. That’s an evidence to a crime worth investigating. That’s exactly what cops are for.Except…My fingerprints were all over it now. I had picked it up and held it like an idiot.And the last time I told people something happened, they didn’t believed me and even implied I’ve got loose screws in my head.What if the same thing happened here? What if I walked into the police station and they checked the cameras in my building and magically there was nothing? I’d be the prime suspect in whatever violence this blood belonged to.No, I couldn’t. I just can’t.I picked up the box, got on my knees and shoved it under my bed as far as it would go.Then I
HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect ###002: THE FILE
//VESPER//I stared at the empty doorway for I don’t know how long. One second, ten maybe. A minute? My brain wasn’t working right. All I could think was that he was just here, his fingers still ghosted on my face, and I let him touched me.I’ve been so paralyzed I didn’t even blinked.Then my senses slammed back into me like a ton of bricks.“The file,” I gasped, my hands scrambling over the scanner bed.It was gone. I started to panic, frantically trying to find the black card stock folder. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the gold embossing. The photo of those terrifying pale eyes. It was as if the desk had swallowed it whole. I checked the floor, the trash, the rotting boxes behind me. Underneath the scanner.Nothing.My knees gave out. I hit the floor. The concrete bit through my pants, and that was what finally broke the spell. He took it.I crawled across the floor like a total idiot until my hand found the red panic button under the desk. I slammed it, then sat there with my bac
HIS DARK OBSESSION: The Architect ###001: THE ARCHIVES
//VESPER//The box smelled like someone else’s secrets. Rotting ones.I sliced through the tape, already regretting every choice that landed me here. Thirty-two thousand dollars a year to digitize trauma in a concrete coffin. My mother would be so proud. At least her daughter is finally useful, contributing to society. Now I just have to last six months to get HMO benefits. Greywillow Psychiatric Facility — Patient Archives — Wing C.Three weeks in this basement is like a year already, and my only company is a dying scanner, and a flickering light. I reached into the box. Barely glancing at the standard intake photo. They were mostly the same—hollow cheeks and dead eyes.Scan, file, save, arrange, and repeat. By 2PM, my brain turned into a static buzz forming not one coherent thought as I skimmed through the files. Depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, and after a hundred files, they weren’t people anymore. Just ink on the paper.After that, I took a break and ate my sad sandwich, wat
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