Silent Obsession Romane & Geschichten

Fletcher felt a cold and sharp thing that someone thrust on him. It is not a knife or any blade either. He can’t explain what he feels anymore, all he knows is that all of his energy and even his life is slowly being absorbed by that thing that was on his neck. He can still see someone’s feet walking towards him when he was about to look at it’s face but it’s already too late. He can feel someone touch his face until he loses complete consciousness.

Silas’s hand is heavy on my shoulder, but his grip is wrong. It is loose, searching for a memory that isn’t there anymore. "Who are you?" he repeats. The gravel in his voice is thinner now, eroded by the system’s format. The red light of the lockdown pulses against the white marble of the gala floor. It looks like wet ink. I do not look at Silas. I look at the Null-Drone descending from the rafters, its mechanical lens rotating with a wet, hydraulic click. It is searching for a heat signature. It is searching for a heart that shouldn't exist in this city’s register.

The needle dropped on the floor with a small splatter of blood along with its drip tube. I pressed my hand over the arm to stop the blood trickling out. Where the fuck am I? The door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang that made me clutch my ears and head. A siren like sound detonated in my head, blurring everything else around me. I dropped to floor on my knees. “Make it stop,” I pleaded not hearing my own words. “Please make it stop.” “Stephanie!” Someone growled in agitation. “Get her on the bed,” a feminine voice replied. “I need to sedate her.”

The lights in the room began to flicker, the glass bulbs buzzing as the electricity was sucked toward the bed. ​"I can feel them," I whispered, my eyes snapping open. They weren't brown anymore; a faint, violet mist was swirling in my pupils. "I can feel the nurses at the station. I can feel Silas... he’s three floors up, watching the feed. He’s smiling, Julian." ​"He’s smiling because he thinks he’s won," Julian hissed. He stood up, his own black veins erupting across his face in response to mine. ​The forbidden tension between us snapped. It wasn't a kiss, but it was just as intimate—a psychic collision as our two shadows merged into one. The room shook. A tray of surgical instruments on t

Night settled on us like a bedsheet someone suddenly throws over you—heavy, muffled, smothering every sound. I didn’t know what woke me first. The cold concrete beneath my back, Sadira’s steady breathing against my chest, or that strange, taut silence in which even my own heartbeat felt like an intrusive noise. By reflex, I didn’t move. I only opened my eyes and let my demon-sight adjust to the darkness.

The tension between us was still humming, a live wire that threatened to snap, but we had to shove it down. We stepped back into the hallway where the lily mist hit us like a physical slap to the face. We leaned into each other, stumbling on purpose and laughing a little too loudly to make it look like the drugs had finally won. By the time we reached the main room, Silas was standing at the glass wall, staring into the black void of the mountains like he actually owned the stars. “The resonance is finally stabilizing,” Silas said without turning around, his voice dripping with that oily, smug satisfaction. “I can feel it vibrating through the floorboards. It seems you’ve finally surrendered

Sandino: “Money buys a lot of silence. That’s the real flex.” Inside the penthouse the silence was not bought so much as enforced. Two floors down, Raphaël lay awake longer than he should have, the memory of her weight on his lap and the soft sound of her frustrated hiss replaying against his better judgment. He had made the only choice that kept him employed and breathing. He still whispered the same three words into the dark.

The words land without lift, without question, without room for argument. Silas, quiet, almost to himself: "She was." The vibration starts behind my sternum. Low and grinding, rattling my ribs from the inside. My teeth ache. Molars press together. The fluorescent doesn't flicker. Lockers don't rattle. No one else hears it. But they feel it. Martins's hand presses hard against the doorframe again. Jonah's open palms drop, fingers curling inward. Silas goes very still beside locker nine. The howl that rises is pure recognition. My fingers finally unlock from the shelf.

“Adrian, can you stop this?” He let go of my hand and said hoarsely, “All right. I’ll wait outside.” From the balcony, I saw his black Audi still parked there. When I woke up, he was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief. I heard Sophie had been admitted to the ICU again. This time, she’d taken sleeping pills. The last time, she’d cut her wrists. Just before the end of the workday, Sophie’s mother stopped me in the lobby.

Eight years ago, I fought Joey Kirk for a long time to protect Sylvia Lane. Even though she couldn't speak, I married her against my family's wishes. Eight years later, when our house caught fire, I risked my life to save Sylvia. Yet she pushed me into the flames to protect a puppet that looked just like Joey. "Sylvia, just pretend you can't talk. Please, do it for me. Shane will definitely fall for you." "Okay." A recording Sylvia had kept in a folder labeled "True Love" shattered everything I knew. My so-called love at first sight had been part of a plan from the very beginning. I looked at Sylvia. Even now, she refused to speak and still tried to cover for Joey. My heart ached so ba