𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶

𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓊𝒸𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

it was always there.
almost acting as her shadow,
though it was real.
her family was there, they were killed.
but it stayed,
it never left.

she was older now, she had him. he was her everything. they meet at a coffee shop on a tuesday afternoon. it didn't like him, but she could care less. she never believed it was there, though it was by her side all the time. to her it seemed to be buried too deep inside of her to be noticed by anyone.

he noticed though.

he always did.
he hated it.
he thought it was keeping her from him. after a while of her being around him, it started to hate her as well. it was always him this, him that. never about it. he was replacing it, she wasn't stable enough to notice anything.

she never noticed how pushy he was, how invasive,
how angry,
how controlling he was.
it noticed everything. it wished it could tell her everything. she wouldn't understand even if it could. she was blinded by the facade he put up for her. he was manipulative, and she was being manipulated.

it wanted to help her, so badly.
so it did.

it waited until the night when he wouldn't be there.
it waited until she was asleep.
it snuck into her dream, telling her what to do. since she was in a trance like state, she obeyed it.

it was a part of her anyways,

right?

it took her to a room, one with white walls and had white furniture, yet it felt so dark and empty.

it brought the memories of her family's death and played it. she watched, it's not lien she had a choice. the memories she didn't want to remember flooded her vision.
she screamed,
cried,
felt something.

she noticed him in the memory. why would he be in that memory? then she realized. that's him, but it's not. why? why, why, why, why?

it didn't make sense to her, how did she never remember this? how could she forget, let alone not notice him. she had seen enough of the memory. it was standing just outside the open door. she walked towards it. it started walking down the hallway that leads to who knows where. not caring anymore, she follows.

it seemed to get brighter and less empty the more she followed it down the black walled small hallways.

each corner they turned made her feel like she was floating even more.

each step she took was one more step away from sanity.
each step it took was once more step leading her away from reality.
no.
leading her away from him.

but why? it wasn't like he was apart of reality.

nothing was.

she wasn't real.

her family wasn't real.

those people who gave her weird looks weren't real.

he definitely wasn't real.

only it was.

and it was only a hallucination.

the memory wasn't real.

so why the hell did she feel so much pain.
sorrow.
rage.
hate.

she saw him. he killed her parents. but he wasn't real, and she saw that.

it was real though. it was there.

he didn't understand why he could always see it and nobody else could.

because it killed him.

he killed her.

she killed it.

it's a messy triangle, nobody knows how it happened, i mean, it's not like anything is real,

right?
everything was a hallucination anyways,

right?

was it?

should hallucinations feel that much and have that much of a life?

who was even causing the hallucination anyways?

was it him?
hallucinating that she was there with him.
no that couldn't be right, if it were his hallucination it wouldn't be there.

was it her?
hallucinating that she had someone.
no, if it were hers her family would be alive.

what about it?
hallucinating that it was apart of her.
that can't be it. he wouldn't be there if it were up to him.

but hallucinations are just illusions right?
they're like dreams.
you can't control what you hallucinate about.
like you can't control what you dream about.
you can have bad dreams, nightmares, like your biggest fears can be a hallucination.

so was it someones worst fear being hallucinated?
not being noticed?
being manipulative?
losing everyone?

was it a combination of them all?

no.

it couldn't have been.

life wasn't a hallucination.
it's a reality.
but to what extent?
what is reality?
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reality:
1. the world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them.

2. the state or quality of having existence or substance.