Personality Oblivion Novels & Stories

Dazed in the fantasies we could play out together. I think about the women who have been in this room before. The ones who screamed. The ones who begged. The ones who stopped begging. Emily is not the first, and she will not be the last. I always get what I want in the end. All women break at some point. Besides my stamina is my best quality. It’s not like I get off easily being a psychopath. I need the fear, the screams and the submission to helplessness to feed my pleasure. Otherwise I’ll just keep pumping at the beat of a dead drum.

“It's not safe for you to be here, WITH THEM. I’m an old man, far passed his glory days. I don't think I'd be able to protect you if they decided to… you know?” “Well I'm not leaving anytime soon. And you can tell them I said that!” “Please keep your voice do—” “D’ya hear that, you privileged pussies!” I hurl the comment loud enough to reach its target. Like hell I care about some seething Omegas. My dumb metabolism won't let me get drunk, and my brain won't stop flashing me with pictures of the far from normal day I just had. I couldn't give two shits about some muttering delinquents.

Great. Haru, like me, has a fucked-up, shattered mind. But while I detach and numb myself to everything, she escapes reality entirely. I think the fancy term is Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID. I haven’t looked into it deeply, but it was weird seeing my best friend’s personality change from time to time, so I did some research. She has three different personalities. Unlike typical cases, or so I’ve read, she remembers what she does when she’s someone else.

My chest tightened sharply. Across the network. similar grief emerged everywhere. People remembering earlier selves with strange tenderness. The version that loved without caution. The version that trusted more easily. The version untouched by betrayal yet. Untouched by loss. Untouched by understanding. I exhaled slowly. And beneath every memory lived the same haunting realization: I can never fully become that person again. My chest tightened. Because awareness was irreversible. Once consciousness expanded. it could not comfortably shrink back into older forms. Even healing did not restore innocence completely.

“A long time ago, when Lorenzo was nine, he was sexually abused by his bloody uncle. Because of that, he began to have constant nightmares and many hallucinations, he always woke up screaming, asking for help, as if that wretch was doing it all over again with him. I widen my eyes, doubly surprised. First, because he is speaking in the third person, and second, because he knows that Lorenzo was abused. '' Because of that trauma, Lorenzo ended up developing another personality, a strong personality to protect him from all harm, he was weak and very sensitive, so I started to take his conscience, getting in control. He turns around, looking me in the eye. “Nice to meet you, Elisabeth. My name

A look of regret crosses his face and tears run down my face cause I know what he means “No please it hurts” I murmur. He's been training me to control ‘obsidian’ in case she comes out but when he says my trigger word it’s hard for me to fight it "I'm so sorry tsvetok, I promise I’ll make it up to you” he kisses my hand whilst keeping his eyes on the road “Please” I beg in a whisper "Shadow" he whispers and then everything goes black Obsidian POV: Finally, it's my time to shine ladies and gentlemen. Being Amari’s alter ego and personality disorder is just boring. She’s too sweet. Too weak she could learn from me

The warmth in his chest turned into a block of ice. Elias’s eyes, which had been mercury-white, suddenly turned a flat, matte black. His silver hair lost its shine, becoming the color of cold ash. The Void-Alpha State: Attributes: Complete emotional detachment, zero magical signature, immunity to energy-drain. The Cost: Loss of identity. The user becomes a "Living Null." Risk: If the state lasts more than one hour, the user’s soul will dissipate into the atmosphere. He didn't feel sad. He didn't feel angry. He didn't even feel like "Elias." He was just a weapon.

"The last of the 'Grey' has been absorbed into the violet. There are no more borders in the mind, no more dark corners where the 'Standard' can hide." "The price was high, Avery," Tommy said, standing a few feet back. He held a spectral analyzer that showed a perfect, flat line of emotional stability stretching from New York to Singapore. "We lost twelve people in the Nevada Void. They died for a philosophy of 'Self' that the world’s biology no longer supports. They died as individuals in a world that has chosen the collective."

They chased ghosts and clung to shadows, mistaking them for solace. And Johnny was drunk enough to forget where he ended and his worst habits began, the self-destructive patterns that had de!ned so much of his life. He'd spent solong wrestling with the darkness inside him that sometimes he forgot how to !ght. The Hollow, once a haven, now felt like a trap closing around him. The last few patrons were trickling out, their laughter and chatter fading into the night. The lights dimmed, casting long, suggestive shadows across the room, chairs were tipped up onto the sticky table tops. But he stayed, rooted to the spot by a toxic cocktail of alcohol and a deep-seated weakness.