Twisted love

Final Echoes

Chapter thirty-five
Andrew's POV

The sterile walls of the asylum felt like a prison, but they were also a sanctuary-an ironic twist of fate that kept the world at bay while I confronted the dark recesses of my mind. Every tick of the clock echoed like a heartbeat, reminding me of the time lost, the life I had once known, and the twisted reality I now inhabited. I was Andrew, but I was also a stranger to myself, a mere shadow of the person I used to be.

The therapists here spoke in soothing tones, their words dripping with empathy, but I saw through their façades. They believed they could mend what was broken, as if my mind were a puzzle to be solved. But the pieces were scattered-fractured memories, distorted perceptions, and a reality that had twisted itself beyond recognition. I was the architect of my own demise, yet somehow, I remained the victim in this cruel play.

I often replayed the events that led me here in my mind, the way a moth is drawn to a flame, unable to resist its own destruction. There was a time when I had felt everything so intensely-love, desire, jealousy. It had all twisted together like a noose around my neck, squeezing tighter with every passing moment. My obsession with Katherine had become a deranged masterpiece, painted in shades of passion and madness. I could still remember the first time I laid eyes on her sister, Katanya-her laughter echoing in the hallways of our school like music, the way her eyes sparkled with life. But it was Katherine who would ultimately ensnare my heart, and that fatal mistake had sent me spiraling into chaos.

I recalled the day I learned of her pregnancy, the hollow feeling in my gut that morphed into rage. How could she? How could she choose him over me? The darkness clawed at my sanity, a ravenous beast demanding attention. I should have been happy for her, but all I could see was betrayal-another wound to the fragile psyche I had built over the years. My heart twisted in my chest like a dagger, and in that moment, I decided I had to act.

The thought of her with Oliver filled me with a primal fury that ignited something sinister within me. It was as if I could hear the echoes of my own laughter, twisted and manic, reverberating through the empty halls of my mind. How could I let her slip away? She was mine-she had always been mine, even when she didn't know it. I had watched her from the shadows, feeling like a ghost haunting her every move, longing for a connection I could never grasp. The world outside continued to spin, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within me.

And then came the moment of reckoning. The day everything shattered-the day I leaked that video. I can't describe the thrill I felt, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I pressed "send." It was a mistake-a reckless act born of desperation and insanity. I was not just trying to destroy Oliver; I was trying to reclaim what I believed was rightfully mine. But instead of freedom, it had led me here, to this place of confinement, and the realization gnawed at me like a ravenous rodent. I was both the puppeteer and the marionette, dancing to the strings of my own making.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I often imagined Katherine's face-the way she would look at me with confusion, with a hint of fear, and that sting of betrayal in her eyes. I could still hear her voice as she confronted me, the way she demanded answers I couldn't give. Each question she asked was like a dagger to my heart, and I could feel the walls closing in around me, trapping me in a maze of my own creation. She had every right to be angry, every right to hate me, and yet, beneath it all, I still wanted her to understand-understand my love, my obsession, my twisted reality.

Days turned into weeks, and the patterns of the asylum became my new normal. I watched the other patients shuffle through the halls, their faces vacant and lost. I was not like them, I reassured myself. I was the protagonist in my own story, albeit a tragic one. I could still feel the remnants of my sanity clawing their way to the surface, but I had to bury them. To truly understand the depths of my madness, I had to embrace it.