𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 18+

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟒

I did my best to make the case as logical and realistic as possible. I hope you all enjoyed it!

CONTENT WARNING ⚠️: This chapter contains mild depictions of gore.

𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐕

• • •

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

I sat on my bed, biting the edge of my nail, trying to ignore the rawness of the skin around my cuticles. My fingers were a mess. The soft glow of my laptop screen was the only light in the room, casting shadows on the walls that seemed to breathe, shift, and move. But I wasn't paying attention to them. My eyes were glued to the screen, scrolling through article after article, blog posts, forums—anything that might give me a clue as to what was wrong with me.

Hallucinations and Dissociation: When the Mind Plays Tricks on You

The Case of Harold Mason: A Man Who Lost His Grip on Reality

Mental Health in Young Adults: What Happens When You See Things That Aren't There?

I clicked on a link titled Harold Mason's Tragic Descent, and my stomach twisted as I read about a man who had been committed to a mental hospital. He kept seeing his dead wife. Not just seeing her—talking to her, living with her as if she were still alive. His friends thought he was just grieving at first. Until he started hurting himself, convinced that his wife was trying to punish him.

"I could hear her voice. She was angry with me, and I didn't know how to make it stop," he had said in an interview, just before he was institutionalized.

I rubbed my arms, a chill running down my spine as I stared at the quote. I didn't know how to make it stop.

I could relate to that.

More than I wanted to admit.

I read another doctor's analysis of the case, the words blurring together in my mind. He explained that Harold's condition was brought on by severe trauma and unresolved guilt, leading to hallucinations that manifested as a coping mechanism. His mind was trying to fill in the gaps, to make sense of his reality. But it had spiraled out of control, and now... he didn't know what was real anymore.

Was that me? Was I losing control too?

I kept seeing things—hearing things—that didn't make sense. My brother... but he wasn't here. And yet he felt so real sometimes. Too real. Like right now, as if I could almost—

Thud.

I froze. The sound came from across the room, from inside the closet. I tore my eyes away from the screen, staring at the door of my closet, my heart thudding in my chest.

For a moment, I thought I saw it move. Just a slight shift, like something was pressing against it from the inside.

This isn't happening.

I stood up, my legs shaky, but I forced myself to cross the room. Each step felt heavier than the last, the shadows stretching out, wrapping around my ankles like they wanted to pull me down, keep me here. My hand hovered over the closet door, hesitating.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the wind, or... or—

I yanked the door open.

Nothing.

Just my clothes hanging there, still, silent, untouched. I let out a shaky breath, relief washing over me, but it was quickly replaced by a familiar sense of unease. I wasn't safe. Not here. Not in my own head.