Page 40 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

But darkness is claiming me rapidly now, pulling me under into a sea of hallucinations.

The last thing I register is Ares' heartbeat against my cheek, racing with fear and adrenaline, and the thought that at least if I die, I'm in the arms of someone who loves me.

Then consciousness shatters completely, leaving me floating in a void of memories and dreams and nightmares all mixed together.

Zander, my love... I'll see you soon...

Pieces on a Chessboard

~GEMINI~

Darkness claims me, but instead of the void I expect, memories bloom like ink drops in water. The scene materializes with crystal clarity – Marcus's private lab at Leighton University where I've spent countless afternoons. The sterile white walls should feel clinical, but afternoon sunlight streams through high windows, casting everything in warm gold that reminds me of simpler times.

Like when we were twelve, hiding in his mother's research facility while Domino searched the grounds. Marcus showing me his first microscope, teaching me about cells and neurons while I wore his oversized lab coat, the sleeves rolled up six times just so I could see my hands.

Now I'm perched on one of his examination tables, legs swinging nervously while he reviews my latest brain scans. At twenty-one, he's already brilliant enough to make senior researchers jealous, but to me he's still that boy who shared his lunch when Domino would steal mine.

The images on his screen show patterns of activity – rivers of color flowing through neural pathways that mean nothing to me but seem to fascinate him. His perfectly pressed lab coat hangs precisely on his frame, every inch the professional researcher, but I can still see traces of the boy who once promised to "fix my brain" with science.

"What's wrong with me?" I ask quietly, tugging at one of my pigtails – a nervous habit from childhood I never quite broke. "Why is my brain like this?"

Another memory surfaces – age fourteen, curled up in his mother's office after a particularly bad episode. Multiple voices screaming in my head while Marcus held my hand, promising we'd figure it out together.

He turns from his computer now, those intelligent eyes studying me with that unique mixture of clinical interest and deep affection that's purely Marcus. "There's nothing necessarily wrong, Eva. It's a condition – distinct personalities sharing one consciousness. Think of it like..." He pauses, always careful to find the perfect explanation. "Different versions of you living in harmony. Or sometimes discord."

"If that's true," I huff, trying to lighten the mood despite the weight in my chest, "couldn't one of my personalities be strong enough to kick Domino's ass? Maybe be the bully for once?"

His laugh echoes through the lab, warm and genuine like it was when we were kids. "That could be arranged, actually." He moves closer, leaning against the table beside me. "Mom's research is groundbreaking in this field. Once we finalize the data, we'll present it to the Organization for Rare Psychological Conditions. Your case could help so many others."

Another flash – his mother in her office, silver hair caught in sunlight as she explained to a fifteen-year-old me that being different didn't mean being broken. How she'd held me while Icried, then cut off her own beautiful hair the next day to donate it, showing me that change could be beautiful.

"So... being faulty doesn't make you hate me?" The question comes out small, vulnerable.

"God, Eva." He groans, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair in a gesture that hasn't changed since childhood. "I could never hate you. My Evergreen."

The nickname makes me smile despite my anxiety. He started calling me that after finding me in the university's greenhouse during one of my episodes. I'd been talking to the plants, something about their quiet presence calming the chaos in my mind. The evergreens especially seemed to thrive under my care.

"Like these evergreens," he'd said, watching me tend to them, "you persist through all seasons, staying vibrant even in the darkest winter."

"Then why do you call me Pigtails around Domino?" I ask now, watching his reflection in the lab's polished surfaces. "You only use it when he's around."

A blush creeps across his cheeks as he fiddles with his lab coat buttons – another childhood habit he never outgrew. "I... I like your hair in pigtails. They remind me of when we were kids. Before everything got so complicated."

Another memory surfaces – Marcus defending me in the school playground, his small frame standing between me and Domino's friends. "Leave Pigtails alone!" he'd shouted, earning himself a bloody nose but never backing down.

"What if I want to donate it like your Mom did?" I run my fingers through the long strands, remembering how his mother's sacrifice had inspired so many others to do the same.

"That's different," he says softly, reaching out to touch a silver strand. "That's for a good cause. Your hair is beautiful long, but change can be good too. Mom taught us that."

The day his mother first showed signs of illness flashes through my mind. How Marcus had found me in the greenhouse at midnight, crying over the plants. "They're dying," I'd sobbed, not just talking about the flowers. He'd held me then, both of us scared of the changes coming.

"Change is scary," I whisper now, voicing my deepest fear. "But I have to change, don't I? Or I'll die by his hands eventually."

"I'd never let that happen." The fierceness in his voice reminds me of all the times he's tried to protect me, even when he couldn't protect himself.

"What if you're getting treatment too?" The question hangs between us, heavy with implication. We both know about his own struggles – the obsessive tendencies, the brilliant mind that sometimes works too fast for his own good. "What if we're both broken?"

He can't answer, but I manage a smile. "Don't worry. You'll heal too, right? We'll both get better."

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