Page 114 of Obsession

On and on, the deceptions go. I laugh, tears streaking down my face.

Ouroboros, I think to myself, you can’t keep going like this.

This place goes on forever.

I have no idea how long I’ve been here. There’s no way to gauge time, and I am always awake and alert. My bodily functions have been taken from me, or at least temporarily removed. It’s better than the alternative—starving or sleeping on the ground, but it’s unnatural.

I crave food and sunlight and the simple luxury of looking at a clock.

I don’t know if Aris is watching me or not. There have been no signs, no interference, and I’ve encountered no others. Still, I can’t imagine that he isn’t. This is far too entertaining an opportunity to pass up.

But if he’s not, what is he doing in the meantime? Is the world in ruins again? Have Jaegen and Aris commenced some biblical-level fight?

Here is another terrible truth: anyone who dies after this point is dead because of me.

I let Aris out. Willingly. No tricks, no cheats. Jaegen gave me my solution. Sure, he deceived me, but he delivered as promised. And I ruined it.

But even now, I can’t bring myself to fully regret what I did. There was no other option; I truly can’t imagine a life without Aris in it—good or bad, he is everything.

I gave it all up for him.

And he put me here.

Walking, as it’s all I ever do, I pass by many different rooms, all with the same door: dark oak with an ornate lever knob. I haven’t looked inside of them, even out of sheer boredom. Even if it gets me out of here faster, I don’t dare. It’s not worth it.

When I looked into the room with the alligators, I didn’t watch as an objective third party; I was the man. I felt his panic, his hands slipping. I felt sharp, powerful jaws snap on my wrists, detaching them from my body.

I was there when the loop began anew.

No, I won’t be doing that again. I don’t need to; I understand the point Aris is trying to make: I live because he allows it. The only thing keeping me from eternal suffering is him and a whim.

I pass by a door—one that looks like all the rest—and am mid-stride when I still, hearing the sound of a creak. It wouldn’t be noticeable if not for the absolute silence in the hall. The noise echoes here, like something out of a horror movie.

Tense, I turn very, very slowly to look at the door behind me. Just as I suspected, it’s wide open.

The other door offered only blackness past its threshold, but this one is the opposite, displaying what one would expect behind a door: a sight. In the dim light of the hall, I can’t make out much, so I take a few, cautious steps closer.

Inside is what looks like a high school auditorium with descending rows of seats and a stage in the far back. On that stage are two figures with lights and cameras set up around them.

I hesitate. I know full well that the door did not open on its own, so Aris must want me to go inside of this room. But why?

My hands clench and unclench at my sides. I don’t have much of a choice. Aris wants me to go in, so I have to go in.

Jaw set, I enter, unsurprised when the door closes behind me. I still turn back to glare at it; naturally, it offers no response. Facing forward, I sigh and walk further into the auditorium.

It takes a few seconds, but I recognize the venue. My friend was disappointed when I didn’t do theater with her, but I watched all of the school plays that she was in—enough performances to recognize that this is my high school auditorium.

These rooms seem to be specially constructed for each person. So, is this one made for me?

I keep going forward, heart racing. Aris said that he wasn’t going to put me in a room. Has he changed his mind?

My gaze snags on the two people on stage. If this is my room, who are they?

The closer I get, the easier they are to make out. One is a monster, an abomination created by Aris, modeled after a devil. And the other, in white pearls and the same blazer she wore in her author photo, is my mother.

At first, her focus doesn’t shift from the creature in front of her, preoccupied as she spits out words and the monster responds. Their conversation doesn’t make sense; it almost sounds like an interview is being conducted. But how is that torture?

Finally, the devil glances at me, a smirk growing on its unnatural face. “Look here, Olivia. A gift.”

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