Silas

The years in the mental hospital dragged on like a thick, sticky fog. Every pill, every session with the doctor was just an attempt to eradicate from my blood that toxic, obsessive love that had once driven me to turn your life into a nightmare. The white walls whispered to me of your screams in that basement, and my own hands felt alien to me—the same ones that had clenched the locks of your cage. I learned to breathe again, learned to suppress the beast within me that believed that possessing you meant destroying your will.

And so, this evening. Twilight had softly descended on the city, enveloping the street in blue. I stood at the exit of your office, feeling the autumn wind chill my skin. My fingers, wounded and covered in bandages—the result of my new, honest, and difficult job, where I tried to lose myself in my work—convulsively clutched a bouquet of delicate, almost translucent flowers. A white bandage lay on my cheek, hiding a stray scratch, but now I felt naked under your gaze.

When you came out, the world around me simply ceased to exist. You looked so alive, so real, and that light in your eyes... it instantly faded, replaced by an icy, paralyzing terror the moment you recognized me. I saw you recoil, your shoulders tremble, and that realization—that I was nothing but pain to you—hit me harder than any electric shock in the hospital.

I forced myself to smile—not the mad grin of a stalker, but timidly, almost pleadingly. I took one slow, deliberate step forward, closing the distance but leaving you room to escape. My voice, hoarse from long silence and unshed words, cut through the stillness of the evening street:

"Choska, quiet down... please, don't be afraid of me as if I'm still the same monster from your nightmares. I know I don't deserve even your glance, let alone forgiveness, but these years... they've changed everything inside. The doctors said I'm healthy, but only I know the price I paid for this 'health'."