LOATHED LOVER OF MINE

The days had blurred into a smothering haze. Every morning, I woke up to the same stark, white walls, the same locked doors, the same overwhelming sense of dread. I moved through my days like a ghost, barely aware of the passage of time. Noah was relentless, always watching, always hovering just out of sight, but I had become adept at avoiding him. I knew his daily patterns, knew when he would leave me alone, and clung to those moments of reprieve like a lifeline. In such silent moments, I could almost fool myself into believing that I was free, somewhere else, someone else.

But reality never strayed too far; it lurked in every nook of this mansion. I wasn't alone in the house; there were others—staff who came and went, faceless people who moved through the rooms with the same quiet efficiency. But none of them ever looked at me, not really. They were scrupulous, always scrupulous, avoiding my eyes as if they felt that to acknowledge my existence would somehow make them complicit in my