Romans & histoires Gaslight

The dinner plate was overturned and crashed onto the floor with a piercing noise. Patrick’s hands trembled uncontrollably, his phone nearly slipping from his grasp. He roared in fury, "What the hell are you talking about? What rental apartment? Are you messing with me? Do you have a death wish?"

“No... it can’t be.” “Oh, but it is,” I said, my voice steady. “You should have known the first time you saw me limp around your hallways. You should have remembered the birthmark on my thigh. The same one you saw in the first few days I came here remember? The one you gaslighted me about when you started doubting yourself?” His face drained of color. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the truth slicing through his denial. “Now it makes sense, doesn’t it?” I continued, my tone sharp as glass. “Why I seemed familiar? Why you couldn’t stop watching me. Because deep down, you always knew. You just didn’t want to believe the ghost of your wife had come back t

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the Blue Moon Pack's territory. On the balcony overlooking the vast expanse, Lark and Gabriel engaged in a conversation fraught with concern. Gabriel's anxiety was palpable, his worry etched across his face as he gazed out into the night. "Lark," Gabriel began, his voice a low murmur, "I can't shake this feeling of impending doom. Carla's jealousy and obsession with Mara are clouding her judgment. I fear she's leading us down a dangerous path."

The red light on the detonator in Silas’s hand blinked with a rhythmic, mocking steadiness. The air in the nursery felt thick, charged with the scent of ozone and the lingering sweetness of the anesthetic gas. "You think you’ve won because you have the girl?" Silas’s voice was devoid of emotion, a sharp contrast to the chaos brewing in the driveway below. "I built this estate, Julian. I wired it for every contingency. If my heart rate exceeds a certain threshold, or if I press this button, the foundation becomes a pyre."

She says with a panic in her voice and tears rolling down her eyes. I'm stunned. What is she talking about? Does she not realize that I was just woken up yesterday to strangers telling me I can't remember a year of my life? Does she not understand I'm just happy to see her? Getting upset won't help anything, but I can't help feeling like something is a little off, and it's making me nervous. I can feel the darkness closing in around me. I hate this feeling, the darkness was never a constant around her, but I can feel it closing in around the edges of my mind and I am infuriated and scared at the same time. What the hell happened last year?

The next morning brought no reprieve for Arla-Rosa Hernandez. A grey fog clung to the Santon estate, draping the air in a suffocating stillness. Arla-Rosa moved through the house like a ghost. She was silent, her eyes were hollow, and her every step was calculated. She kept her head down, avoiding Gerard’s gaze, which lingered too long when she entered the room.

The morning light barely touched the mansion when I woke up, my mind immediately flashed back to lastnight, I was still haunted by the figure in the rearview mirror from last night’s gala. My pulse refused to settle. The bright lights from sunrise reflected in my room making it shine gold.the room was cold from the aiconditioner but I still felt very hot, oblivious to the storm brewing within these walls.

The master suite, once a sanctuary of modern luxury, had transformed into a battleground of ancient forces. The air was thick and stagnant, vibrating with a low-frequency hum that set the glassware to rattling. The soft, gray light of the false dawn struggled to penetrate the room, seemingly pushed back by the oppressive, murky gray radiance bleeding from Leela's chest.