𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 18+

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗

Finally! I got to write this part and am diving into the action—so excited!🎀

Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of gore, profanity, and instances of sexual harassment. Reader discretion is advised.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟻, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 - 𝟿:𝟷𝟶 𝙿.𝙼.

My heart skipped a beat, a strange mix of relief and unease washing over me. Relief because I wasn't completely alone in this sea of strangers—he was here, watching. But that intense, unwavering gaze of his made my skin prickle.

"Everything okay?" Jake's voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to the bar.

I blinked, forcing myself to look away from Mads and back at Jake. "Yeah," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. "Just zoned out for a second."

Jake followed my gaze, his brow furrowing as he noticed Mads. "Friend of yours?"

"Something like that," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

Jake nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "He seems... intense."

I let out a small, humorless laugh. "You could say that."

Silence hung between us, heavy and awkward. Jake seemed to sense that whatever connection he thought we had was slipping away. He took a sip of his drink and offered a half-smile. "Well, if you ever want to talk to someone who isn't intense, I'm here."

"Thanks," I muttered, my eyes drifting back to Mads. His gaze hadn't wavered; he was still watching me, his expression unreadable. Just as I looked away, he vanished into the crowd, sending a shiver down my spine. "I'm gonna, um, use the bathroom, okay... Zack."

"It's Jake," he corrected.

"That's what I said," I retorted, walking away with a smirk.

My pulse quickened as I made my way through the crowded club, my head swimming slightly. I needed a moment away from the chaos. Pushing through the throng of bodies, I found the women's bathroom. Inside, it was slightly less oppressive, though still noisy with chattering voices and bursts of laughter.

I walked to the sink, splashing cold water on my face. The chill was a welcome relief, pulling me back to the present. I reached into my bag for the small container of medication I carried—Haloperidol for the hallucinations, Diazepam for the anxiety. I took the pills quickly, hoping they'd help steady me.

After washing my face, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired, stressed, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. I headed back to the main area, still feeling slightly dizzy.

As I reentered the club, I scanned the bar but couldn't see Jake or my previous drink. I spotted a new drink that looked similar and took a sip, hoping it would calm my nerves. The cool liquid slid down my throat, but something felt wrong. I glanced around, trying to push away the growing tightness in my chest. The pills were supposed to help with the hallucinations and anxiety—the remnants of a nightmarish past.

It all started years ago when my family was brutally murdered. The memories of that night still haunted me, leaving a constant sense of unease. The pills were my lifeline—Haloperidol for the hallucinations, Diazepam for the anxiety—a fragile grip on normalcy.

My therapist said they were a way to cope, but sometimes it felt like a cruel joke. Pills couldn't erase the past or undo the horrors I'd seen. Every sip, every conversation was a fleeting attempt to escape a reality I couldn't fully outrun.