Gaslighting Isn't Real Novels & Stories

“Evelyn, you’re upset. You’re looking for reasons to be angry with me, looking for proof that I’m the villain you want me to be. But this isn’t one of them. This is just a case of me trying to help someone less fortunate and you twisting it into something it’s not.” “Stop.” I held up my hand. “Stop gaslighting me. I know what gaslighting looks like, Alfred. I’ve been living with it for twenty-two years.” “I’m not gaslighting you. I’m trying to help you see that you’re not thinking clearly.”

Her face was still contorted in anger. I knew she didn't believe me. Fuck. I hated that Delilah was too smart to be easily manipulated. So I pulled the last I knew would work best. Gaslighting! “You don't know me so you can't assume what I admire and what I don't. Besides, it has always been there. It's you who didn't notice.” I maintained my yet accusatory response. My face was straight, my voice didn't quiver as I tried to keep my tone perfect.

"That is Marcus's number again. Call him. Ask him to send you the security footage, the police records, everything. I am not hiding anything, Hartley. But I am also not going to spend every day defending myself against accusations that have already been disproven." I stared at the phone number on his screen, torn between wanting to believe him and the voice in my head screaming that this was exactly how manipulation worked. "What about Rebecca?" I asked. "What about the gaslighting Sarah mentioned?" "Rebecca believed we were in a relationship that did not exist. When I corrected that misperception, she called it gaslighting because accepting the truth meant accepting she had been wrong." His

I spoke as calmly as I could, She sneered, “you're trying to gaslight me” “No,” I shook my head vigorously. “No, I'm just-” “It's not bad enough that your husband pushed me off that balcony, but now you're trying to gaslight me!” She screamed, I paused. “He pushed you off the balcony?” “Oh, please. Cut the act. Everyone knows he did. Isn't that why you've been giving my family money? You've been trying to buy my silence.” I couldn't find the right words to speak. I took a step back, and quietly slumped on the sofa.

I whispered. My brain supplied the obvious answer. The psycho kind. I grabbed a pillow, hugged it to my chest, and rocked back and forth like maybe that would make the world less insane. “She knows me. She knows me,” I muttered into the fabric. “She’s just pretending. Gaslighting me. Oh my God, Lena Hale is gaslighting me. This is how people end up on true crime documentaries.” The worst part? Even knowing all that, the phantom heat of her kiss was still there, taunting me.

You deserved to feel like you were enough, without having to prove it, without being measured against someone else’s shadow. I’m sorry for gaslighting you. For every time I told you, “You’re overreacting.” For every time I said, “That never happened.” For every time I made you doubt your own memory, your own instincts, your own feelings. You were right more times than I’ll ever admit out loud. You saw things clearly. You felt things deeply. And instead of respecting that, I made it my mission to blur your reality until you didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“How dare he hurt you like this? Drinking and driving recklessly… putting you in danger…” “Stop it!” I yelled. “Stop gaslighting me!” “Max wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t careless,” I said, trembling but fierce. “And how convenient is it that our car crashes the exact moment we get your dirty evidence?” He still kept a neutral face. “Tell me,” I demanded, leaning forward despite the pain. “How did you do it? How did you hurt us?” He only gave me that pitying smile. “You really are hallucinating, Veronica,” he said softly. “I should call the doctors.”

He said, looking straight into my eyes. He was lying, of course. I knew he was lying. He was trying to gaslight me into thinking otherwise. “Don’t touch me, Rick.” I said, backing away from him. He stepped back from me and said, “Jane, calm down. You’re overreacting. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a fling. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s nothing to me.” He said, hoping I would believe him. But I didn’t believe him. It didn’t matter to me anymore.

"No, only when I am exhausted and sleep deeply. I normally manage to wake myself up after a while by moving a little, but it is a stressful event nonetheless. Having someone else to wake me up is ten times better. It is a pretty common condition, don’t worry about it" "Okay", he says in a very low voice, and his stormy eyes linger on my lips. My breath hitched, my lips parted, and my whole body tingled with the promise of a kiss. His woodsy scent was the only thing I could smell. I leaned a few inches towards him, but I stopped. Something was nagging in the back of my brain. A muffled thought that I was choosing to ignore. This is a bad idea. You shouldn’t hook up with your fake husband.

“Do you even know what Jack tried to do to me in that room? You didn’t even bother to ask.” Lisa casts Nicole an unreadable glance. Nicole rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Gaby, we just want to put all this drama behind us,” she says in an entirely dismissive tone. “That night was a total mess. Everyone was trashed. You can’t even say for sure what happened because you don’t even remember it yourself.” The gaslighting feels like a slap to the face. I open my mouth to argue, to defend myself, but Lisa reaches into her designer purse and pulls out a glossy, silver-lined envelope.