Derealization Stories Novels & Stories

I stood in the center of the glade, my lungs burning with the intake of cold air that finally felt Oxygenated again, stripped of the synthetic sweetness of Caelum’s calibration pulse. My violet-silver skin was flickering, a rhythmic pulse of Sovereign Exhaustion. Every time I rejected the "Order," every time I chose the noise over the silence, I felt the structural integrity of my own sanity fraying at the edges. I wasn't just Darlene anymore; I was a Battlefield of Narratives. "He wasn't the last one, was he?"

On Day Twelve of my solo redemption attempt, the withdrawal hit its absolute peak. I was shaking so violently I could barely hold a glass of water. My body burned with need. My mind was flooded with vivid hallucinations of being surrounded by cocks, stretched, filled, worshipped. I lasted until 2:47 a.m. Then I broke again. I drove to a seedy motel on the outskirts of the city and booked a room. I contacted three trusted former Harem members who I knew would keep it secret. What I told myself would be “just one quick session to take the edge off” turned into a brutal,

became the smell of burnt plastic and copper. Silas didn't fight the "Bleaching" this time. He embraced it. He "Unwove" his own redemption, turning the three years of his remorse into a series of "Narrative Errors." He showed the "Users" the "Ugly Truth"—not as a compelling story, but as a tedious, repetitive cycle of self-loathing that had no "Hook." The "Stalkers" in the courtyard began to gag. Their tablets flickered with "System Error" messages. The liquid gold in their eyes turned into a sickly, translucent yellow.

“You’re lying.” “I do not lie. For I am a god and do not need petty things like deceit.” He extended one large, elegant hand toward me, palm up. “Take my hand, Lyra. I will show you the truth.” I hesitated, staring at his offered hand. Part of me screamed not to do it. The other part — the hurt, angry, curious part — needed to know. Slowly, I placed my trembling fingers in his. The world dissolved. My soul seemed to lift out of my body, weightless and floating. The apartment blurred, then reformed. Suddenly I was standing in Stan’s bedroom across town, invisible, watching everything.

"In that moment, I saw nothing. Just escaping and hurting everyone who had touched me. I didn't see her face until she fell to the floor, then I hated myself more than I hated them because I killed her." "Dhalia, why wouldn't you tell someone what had happened, what they were doing to you?" His eyes widen as he stares at me. "I wasn't sure how much of it was real or not. My mum told me I was dreaming. My stepdad said I was never drugged, and no one ever came to my room at night; he said I was ill and must have taken too many of the pills he placed on the side and hallucinated. How do I tell people something when I don't even know if it's real or made up?" I can't; there is no way for me to b

There was no trace of the shaken gratitude of someone who had just survived something, and no trace of the relieved concern of a man seeing his girlfriend wake up. My head erupted in pain again, as if dozens of needles were churning around inside my skull. The scene in front of me started to warp and blur, the details bleeding into each other until almost nothing was clear. Almost nothing, except the badge hanging from his coat. That stayed razor-sharp even as everything else fell apart. "Department of Psychiatry. Attending Physician. Dr. Evan Hartley." A psychiatrist. Something deep inside my brain detonated. Memories that had been locked away and suppressed for far too long broke through l

she looked more stressed out than she had been since they got here. Patient 229 was Ruth's number. He overheard the nurses when they were gossiping one time in the cafeteria, that Ruth is suffering from the Depersonalization disorder. He shrugged his shoulders and for some minutes, the pain was evident on his face. He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and his countenance change. Patrick started to whimper and hold his chest tightly.