The Twisted Obsession-Chapter 273: Possessive need

Abby found herself standing in a dimly lit corridor, the air thick with a sterile, antiseptic scent that clung to her nostrils. She wore a thin, white gown that rustled with every hesitant step she took. The walls around her were cold, bare, and a stark, institutional gray. Fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows that danced along the corridor, making her heart race with each flicker.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed down the empty hallway, sounding small and fragile. There was no response, only the distant hum of machinery and the occasional distant scream that made her skin crawl.

Her confusion mounted as she wandered aimlessly. She had no memory of how she had arrived in this place. A sense of panic began to set in, gnawing at the edges of her sanity. She was not crazy; she was sure of it. But this place, with its oppressive atmosphere and the unmistakable aura of despair, was designed to make her doubt herself.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached. Two burly orderlies appeared, their expressions devoid of emotion. They seized her arms with iron grips, dragging her toward a room at the end of the corridor.

"Let me go! I don’t belong here!" Abby screamed, struggling against their hold. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as they restrained her and forced her onto a narrow, hard bed in a small, windowless room.

The door slammed shut behind them, and she was left alone, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The room was barren, save for the bed and a small, metal chair. The walls were padded, designed to prevent any attempt at self-harm. Abby’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. She knew she wasn’t insane, but everything around her screamed otherwise.

Hours passed, or maybe it was days—time had lost its meaning in this claustrophobic cell. Each time the door opened, she hoped it was someone coming to rescue her, but it was always the same: a nurse with a tray of medications, urging her to take pills she didn’t need.

"Please, I’m not crazy," Abby pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. "I don’t need those."

The nurse’s face was a mask of indifference. "These will help you, Abby. Just take them."

Reluctantly, she complied, swallowing the bitter pills that only served to deepen her sense of helplessness. She felt her grip on reality slipping, her thoughts becoming fragmented and incoherent.

One night, the door creaked open, and her heart leaped with hope. Her father stood there, his face lined with worry and sadness. Abby’s eyes filled with tears as she reached out to him.

"Daddy, please, you have to get me out of here. I’m not crazy. I swear."

Her father’s expression was pained as he stepped closer, his eyes avoiding hers. "Abby, the doctors say you need help. I just want what’s best for you."

"No! They’re wrong! You know me, Dad. You know I’m not like this." Her voice was a desperate wail, echoing in the small room. She clung to his hand, begging him to believe her.

He gently pried her fingers away, his eyes moist with unshed tears. "I’m sorry, Abby. I love you, but I can’t help you this time."

As he left, the door closed with a final, deafening click, and Abby’s heart shattered. The weight of abandonment crushed her, and she collapsed onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. The walls seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with their padded silence.

Days turned into a blur of medication, isolation, and despair. Abby’s mind was a tumultuous sea of fear, anger, and confusion. She lashed out at the orderlies, screamed at the nurses, and begged anyone who would listen to believe her. But all she received in return were patronizing smiles and sympathetic nods.

Her dreams were filled with dark, twisted images of confinement and torment. She was chased through endless corridors, her screams echoing back at her, unanswered. She saw herself strapped to a table, cold metal instruments glinting ominously in the dim light, and she felt the sting of needles and the burn of electric shocks.

She woke from the particularly harrowing dream, gasping for breath. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself in her own bedroom, drenched in sweat. She turned to see Remo, her husband, sleeping peacefully beside her, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breaths.

Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly replaced by an intense, almost possessive need. Remo was hers—finally, irrevocably hers. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

Abby leaned over, tracing the contours of his face with a delicate finger, a smile spreading across her lips. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, but there was a glint of something darker in her eyes. She marveled at the way his skin felt under her fingertips, smooth and warm.

She whispered softly, her voice a hushed caress. "You’re mine, Remo. I’ll never let you go."

Her obsession with him was a fire that burned within her, fierce and unyielding. It consumed her thoughts, driving her to the edge of reason. She would do anything to keep him, to ensure that he remained by her side.

As she watched him sleep, her mind wandered back to the asylum, to the fear and the anguish she had felt there. The memory was still raw, a wound that had not yet healed. But in the darkness of their bedroom, with Remo’s steady presence beside her, she found a twisted sense of comfort.

Abby lay back down, snuggling close to him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. She closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips. The nightmare was over, and she was home. Remo was hers, and she wouldn’t let anyone take him away. Not the doctors, not her father—no one.

As sleep slowly reclaimed her, a final thought flitted through her mind, chilling in its clarity. She would do whatever it took to keep Remo. Even if it meant going to the darkest lengths imaginable. Because in the end, he was all she had, and she would never let him go.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢