The darkness within me

0.4 -a light in the abyss-

The light ahead grows brighter, cutting through the darkness like a blade. Each step toward it feels like walking through molasses—slow, labored, every muscle in my body straining against an unseen force. But I keep moving, driven by the need to understand, to face whatever lies at the end of this path.

The memories continue to flash in my mind, more vivid now. I see the man's face clearly, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and betrayal. I see the moment when everything shattered, when the trust between us broke beyond repair. The image of the blood on my hands is burned into my memory, an indelible mark of what I've done.

But there's more. There are other faces, other moments—people I can't quite recognize, voices that are just out of reach. The fragments swirl around me, chaotic and disjointed, but one thing becomes clear: this betrayal was no simple act. It was part of something larger, something far more dangerous.

The light grows stronger, until it's no longer just a faint glow but a full, blinding radiance that forces me to shield my eyes. I pause, hesitating on the edge of the light, unsure of what lies beyond. The darkness behind me whispers with familiar fear, urging me to turn back, to remain in the comfort of ignorance.

But I can't go back. I can't let the fear win. Not now.

With a deep breath, I step into the light.

The world shifts around me, the darkness peeling away like a veil being lifted. I find myself in a new place, one that is achingly familiar yet terrifyingly unknown.

It's a room—large, luxurious, with rich, dark wood paneling and elegant furniture. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden light over everything. There are windows, tall and draped with heavy curtains, but no sunlight streams in. The air is thick with the scent of expensive leather and aged whiskey, a scent that tugs at something deep inside me, something almost comforting.

But there's a coldness here, a tension that prickles at my skin. The room is too perfect, too pristine, as if it's frozen in time, untouched by the world outside. And then I see him—standing by the window, his back to me, staring out at the nothingness beyond.

My breath catches in my throat. It's him—the man from my memories, the man I betrayed. He's just as I remember: tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair slicked back, his posture rigid with controlled fury. But there's something different about him now, something that makes my heart pound with a mix of fear and longing.

He turns slowly, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes are the same—intense, piercing, filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. But they're also different, darker, as if the light in them has been extinguished.

"Lila," he says, his voice low and smooth, like the calm before a storm.

I can barely breathe. "You... you're real."

He steps closer, his expression unreadable. "Of course I'm real. Did you think I was just a figment of your imagination? A ghost haunting your guilty conscience?"

His words cut deep, slicing through the fragile hope I didn't even realize I was holding on to. This is real. He's real. And everything I remember, everything I did—it's all real, too.

"I don't... I don't understand," I stammer, taking a step back as he advances. "Why am I here? What is this place?"

He stops, his gaze never leaving mine. "This place... is your mind, Lila. It's the prison you built for yourself when you locked away the truth."

My mind spins, struggling to grasp what he's saying. "But why? Why did I lock it away?"

He looks at me for a long moment, as if weighing his words carefully. "Because you couldn't live with what you did. You couldn't face the reality of your betrayal, so you buried it. And you buried me along with it."