The Gaslight Effect Novels & Stories

It still came out as a tiny whimper. I could swear Tyron’s eyes softened, it made him look slightly better. Slightly believable. “We cannot do that. You have to understand us…we haven’t had one like you in ages and you come along, do you think you are a blessing to us?” I couldn’t believe I was being gaslighted into believing I was meant to be there. That I was some gift the moon goddess had perfectly wrapped and placed on their door step like some fucked up Santa but this time with flying wolves for reindeers.

“Let’s discuss the club incident. You attended willingly?” “Yes.” “You consumed alcohol willingly?” “Yes.” “Isn’t it possible that any intoxication was self-induced?” “No.” “How can you be certain?” “Because I remember one drink,” I replied, “and then a loss of continuity.” The room felt smaller. “Did you seek medical attention?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because I was told it was my imagination.” “And you believed that?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because that’s how gaslighting works.” The word landed heavily. He hesitated—just slightly—but it was enough.

"When you swore I was poisoning your coffee. Remember? You were so convinced. You threw the cup against the wall." My blood ran cold. "I..." I stammered, my mind racing. "No. That was different." "Is it?" He squeezed my wrists tighter, twisting them slightly. Pain flared up my arms. "You've been under so much stress, babe. The IVF... it's messing with your head. We need to get you back on the meds." I felt my tears spill over. This was gaslighting. Pure, calculated gaslighting. He was trying to make me doubt my own eyes.

she said. I shoved her onto the couch, then walked over to the pantry and hauled out two cans of gasoline I had prepared ahead of time. "Lucas, you psycho! What are you doing?" Sophie shrieked, scrambling off the couch to make a break for the front door. I pulled a remote control out of my pocket and hit the button to lock every single door and window in the house. To facilitate my treatment, she had intentionally remodeled the mansion into a fully sealed, soundproof space, even going so far as to seal the windows.

"Don't you see what he's doing? He's a psychopath. He knows we're onto him, so he took a picture of himself and planted it in your pocket to gaslight you. He wants you to think there's some bigger, scarier monster out there so you'll doubt your own mind and run straight into his arms for protection. It's a sick mind game, and I'm not letting him get inside your head." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe that Brody was just a twisted, obsessive freak acting alone, because the alternative—that someone else was watching me, someone who had been close enough to slip a photo into my pocket while I was standing in a crowded lawn—made my skin crawl with a primal, suffocating terror. B

she said angrily, "you want me to believe that you're some fucking unimportant piece od shit when you are not. You're devilish!" I ate the last slice of fruit, "okay, I guess I should get used to being called a devil because I got pregnant". "Why are you acting like I'm a fool? You're trying to gaslight me into thinking that I've heard wrong". I dropped the plate and walked to her, "what are you saying? If someone hears you they would believe I am mentally attacking you when I'm not doing such a thing". "I cannot gaslight you, what does that even mean?" My voice softened, "Fiona, I don't know what you've been through you make you feel like anything said in contrary to your ideas is gaslighti

"Has he hit you more than those two times?" The direct question made me flinch. "No. He's been careful since then. But the control, the lies... It's getting worse." "And you think he's hiding something about your fertility treatments?" "I don't know. Maybe I'm paranoid. But why would he lie about the Chicago clinic? And that phone call I overheard..." I twisted my hands in my lap. "Am I crazy, Zoe?" She shook her head firmly. "You're not crazy. What you're describing sounds like textbook gaslighting. Making you doubt your memory, controlling your conversations, isolating you..."

It looked like Vandyke controlled a section of the media and now everyone was gaslighting me into thinking that what I saw wasn’t real. “Oh, cool, maybe I was hallucinating but don’t you remember when he heard everything we whispered at the club?” I tried one last time to let her see what I was seeing but she shook her head, “That must have been lip reading, don’t you know about that?” She got up and went to the baby’s cot to lay Steph down. “Werewolves do not exist, baby girl. If that man invited you to his house then that’s a good sign, keep up the good work and you’ll be in his bed soon.”

There she was doing what I thought she would do. Manipulating and gaslighting. “We do not want you here,” I said. “Leave Bambi m, you're not welcomed.” Talia added. “Is this the thanks I get for trying to check up on you? Is this the thanks I get for wanting to…” her voice quaked with tears. Fake, dry tears. And I wasn't buying it. She had done this to me so much that I could not even keep numbers. “Stop whatever you're doing. It's not going to work.”

I saw the small frown forming on his face but I ignored it, keeping my face stoic. “I don't know what you were thinking when you sent that text, but it's not what you think.” He says and I scoff, looking away. Is this supposed to be an apology? It sounds like he is trying to gaslight and make me feel stupid. “It's not what I think? Really? Mark, I saw you with my best friend on the same bed both of you shirtless. And you're telling me it's not what I think? What am I supposed to think?” I ask, keeping my voice level. I wanted to scream at him and hit him but I couldn't let him know that he hurt.