Patient A-3

Chapter 49: Paranoia

Avalyn

Once more, I'm lying on the unforgiving tile floor, the weight of despair pressing down harder than before. In my hand, I tightly grip the note my mother left behind, its words etched into memory with every read. I've kept its contents hidden from them, unable to trust them with the truth it reveals- unable to trust them with anything anymore. They remain oblivious to the fact that the note confirms my blood as not the cure, but something far more sinister.

Poison seems too mild of a term.

It all makes sense now, and I'm struck by the realization of my own naivety, my blindness to blaring red flags. The shadow lurking near the hall, the mysteriously placed keys, the journal gone without a trace- nothing was ever a mere coincidence. It was a meticulously crafted scheme, orchestrated by the very men I once trusted, men I thought valued me.

I chastise myself for brushing off my instincts as paranoia, for allowing them to manipulate me into doubting my own perceptions. It dawns on me now that I never even disclosed my name that first night- they didn't need introductions; they already knew me. Every time they urged me to ignore Sophie's calls, it wasn't about wanting to spend time with me- it was a ploy to distance me from the people in my life. And tragically, it worked. I've failed as a friend.

Cierien knew about Mrs. Jackson, my only family, not because I confided in him, but because they had researched every aspect of my life before ensnaring me in their trap. The distance that had grown between me and my loved ones wasn't just happenstance; it was a deliberate maneuver devised by Cierien and Wrath. And although I now understand their malicious intent, I can't shake the burden of responsibility from my shoulders. I allowed myself to drift away, to become isolated, and in doing so, I unwittingly played right into their hands.

Idalia's cryptic words echo relentlessly in my mind now, their significance cutting through the haze of denial. Maybe she knew all along. Perhaps her bizarre behavior was her twisted attempt at warning me. When I confronted her about the receipt, she feigned innocence, but deep down, I sensed the truth. The warning signs were there, glaring and unmistakable-They're lying, as well as the ominous message scrawled on the changing room mirror, Enjoy it while it lasts. Yet, foolishly, I chose to ignore them, clinging to the illusion of normalcy until reality shattered around me.

Doubt gnaws at the core of my being. Was anything they shared with me genuine? Was their stories a fabrication, their emotions mere pretense? Cierien's vehement insistence that our relationship was authentic clashes violently with the revelation of their sinister intentions. If Wrath had orchestrated a scheme to use me for my blood, and Cierien was complicit in this plan, how could I trust the authenticity of our connection? Their conversation in the living room replays in my mind.

Forget the plan.

Perhaps Cierien's actions weren't entirely malevolent. His restraint in releasing Wrath until he could control his anger, his attempt to forgo the plan, and his intervention to prevent bloodshed during our moment of intimacy- all hint a flicker of conscience, a shred of decency. His pleas to separate himself from Wrath's actions, to alter the course of their plan from force to manipulation, suggest a desperate attempt at redemption.

Yet, despite these gestures, forgiveness remains elusive. The scars of betrayal run too deep, the wounds too raw. Cierien's efforts to shift the narrative, to paint himself as the lesser of two evils, fail to sway me. The mere thought of returning to their embrace fills me with revulsion, a visceral aversion born of shattered trust and shattered illusions. His attempts at mitigation do nothing to soothe the ache of betrayal, nor do they erase the bitter taste of deceit. For me, there can be no reconciliation, no redemption- not now, and perhaps, not ever.