Enter the shadowed mind of Dr. Grimoire, a man who has spent his life delving into the darkest corners of existence-where death and despair reign, and hope withers like the last flicker of a dying flame. In Whispers from the Abyss, Grimoire unearths...
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You wore a face that was not your own, a mask of soft smiles, whispered promises, lips that tasted of honey but left the sting of venom beneath. I see it now, though I did not see it then— how could I? I was blinded by the light of your affection, by the sweetness of a love that never truly was. You played your part well, a performance so carefully rehearsed, each word a thread in the web you spun around me. And I, like a fool, believed the role you played.
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It was a dance, wasn’t it? This masquerade of ours. You led, and I followed, never questioning the steps, never doubting the rhythm. I should have known— the way your hands moved so gracefully, the way your eyes sparkled just a little too bright. There was a hunger behind that gaze, a hunger I thought was for me. But it was not love you craved, was it? It was something darker, something more.
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You took what you needed. That’s what it was all for, wasn’t it? The masquerade, the play, the act. You needed something, and I— I was nothing more than the means to your end. You fed off the trust I gave so freely, drank from the cup of my devotion, and when you had your fill, you cast me aside, like a mask no longer needed.
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I remember the day it all fell apart. The day I saw beneath the mask. It was like a shattering, a slow unraveling of every lie you ever told. I should have felt anger— perhaps I did, but it was drowned beneath the weight of betrayal. It wasn’t just your deceit that cut so deep; it was the way you smiled, even as the truth slipped out, as though you’d never worn a mask at all. But you did, didn’t you? You wore it so well, and I— I was blind to the cracks beneath.
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Did you ever love me? Was there ever a moment when the mask slipped, when you forgot the role you were playing? Or was it all a lie, from the first touch, the first kiss, to the final breath we shared? Did you laugh, even as I laid my heart at your feet, even as I bled for you, believing that what we had was real?
Or was it just a game to you?
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You told me you loved me, even as your lips pressed against another’s, even as your hands wandered to places they should never have touched. You played the part, even when the truth was seeping through the cracks. But the mask slipped, and when it did, I saw you for what you truly were— a thief, a liar, a master of the masquerade.
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And now, I am left with nothing but shadows, with memories that feel like nightmares, with the echo of your laughter haunting the corners of my mind. I wonder, do you still wear the mask? Do you fool him, too, the way you fooled me? Do you tell him the same lies, use the same words, the same touch? Or has the mask become your face now, so tangled in your lies that even you cannot tell where the performance ends and the truth begins?
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I loved you once. That is the truth. But now, I see you for what you are— a hollow thing, a reflection in a shattered mirror. You took from me, but you left with nothing of your own. Because what you are, what you’ve always been, is empty. A shell. A mask.
The masquerade may go on, but I am no longer your dance partner. You will find others, I’m sure— others to fool, others to deceive. But one day, the mask will crack beyond repair, and when it does, there will be nothing left but the face beneath.
And I wonder— when that day comes, when the mask falls for good— will you even recognize yourself?
