FLASHBACK
"Renzo, please... gusto ko nang umuwi. Pakawalan mo na ako," Shayla’s voice trembled as she pleaded with me, her wide eyes filled with fear.
I remember how her words cut through the air, piercing the growing darkness inside me. We stood in the dim light of my apartment, her face pale and drawn, as if she’d already lost the fight. But I wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.
"You don’t mean that, Shayla," I said, my voice calm despite the storm brewing inside me. I stepped closer, trying to keep my tone steady, trying to convince both of us that what I was doing was right. "You’re just upset. You don’t really want to leave."
She shook her head, backing away, her tears spilling freely now. "No, Renzo... I need to go. I can’t do this anymore. I feel like I’m suffocating. Please... just let me leave."
Her words stung, but all I could focus on was how she was slipping away from me. Shayla had been everything—my world, my reason to push harder, to climb higher. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t let her walk out of my life.
"No," I said firmly, grabbing her wrist before she could step any further. "You’re not going anywhere. We’re not done."
Her breath hitched, and she looked down at where my hand gripped her arm, her skin pale against my knuckles. I wasn’t hurting her—at least, not physically—but the fear in her eyes told me I was pushing her too far. Even then, I couldn’t see it. All I knew was that I had to keep her with me.
"Renzo, please..." Her voice cracked, barely a whisper now. "I love you, but I can’t breathe. You’re choking me with this... obsession."
"Obsession?" I repeated, my grip tightening despite myself. "This isn’t obsession, Shayla. This is love. I’m doing this for us."
She shook her head again, her tears falling harder. "No, Renzo. It’s not love anymore. You don’t love me. You just want to control me."
“No, you just stay here,” she said firmly before leaving him alone in the room and locking it.
THE NEXT DAY
Shayla sits on the edge of her bed, clutching her head, breathing heavily. She feels like she's losing her mind. The walls seem to move, distorting her perception. She hears whispers, but no one is there.
"I know it's not real... it's just in my head..." whispers to herself
Renzo enters the room quietly, almost gliding in. His eyes gleam with a calculated intensity as he watches her unravel. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, his touch cold and unnerving.
"Shyla, what’s wrong? You look... troubled. Are you still seeing things that aren't there?"
She flinches at his touch but doesn’t pull away. Her trust in her own mind is shattered, and Renzo has become her anchor, even though she fears him. He leans closer, his voice a soft whisper in her ear.
"You know, you’ve been acting strange lately. Maybe you should rest. I keep telling you... you’re not well. You can’t trust yourself anymore." Renzo said.
Shyla’s breath quickens, her mind spinning. She knows something is wrong with Renzo, but every time she tries to confront him, he makes her question her reality. The hallucinations—was he causing them?
"Renzo, I... I saw someone in the mirror again. She... she looked like me, but it wasn't me. Am I going crazy?" she said as her voice trembled and scared
He chuckles softly, a smile playing on his lips as he tilts her chin up to face him. His eyes pierce through her, manipulating her fear with ease.
"Oh, sweetheart. You’re not going crazy. You’ve always been like this. You just forget sometimes. But I’m here to help you remember."
His words make her doubt herself even more, as if her past was filled with these episodes of hallucinations, and he was always the one to save her from them. In reality, he’s been slowly drugging her, distorting her perception, making her believe that she’s losing her mind.
She tries to resist, to stand up and walk away, but her body feels heavy, her legs weak. Nick’s hand tightens slightly on her shoulder, just enough to remind her of his power.
"There’s no one in the mirror, Shyla. There never has been. It’s all in your head. You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you."
Shayla’s vision blurs. She swears she sees shadows moving across the room, figures lurking just beyond the edge of her consciousness. She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping the sheets.
"No... no, I saw it. I know I did. You’re lying!" she said as his voice trembled
He kneels in front of her now, his voice soft but commanding, dripping with false concern.
"Lying? Shayla, after everything I’ve done for you? You wouldn’t even survive without me. But that’s okay. I don’t expect you to understand. Not when your mind is this... fragile."
His words twist like a knife in her chest. He has gaslighted her for so long that she doesn’t know what’s real anymore. Tears well up in her eyes, and she looks at him, pleading.
"Please, Renzo... just stop. I don’t know what’s happening to me."
He strokes her hair gently, his expression one of cold triumph.
"Shh, you’ll be okay. Just trust me, like you always have, okay? I’m here."
As Shayla’s vision fades further, the hallucinations intensify. She sees a version of herself in the corner of the room, staring back at her with a twisted grin, laughing.
He whispers, "This is all in your head. You can’t trust anything but me."
 
The apartment has grown darker, almost suffocating in its silence. Shayla’s mind feels like a fragile web, fraying at every corner. The air seems colder, and every noise—no matter how small—echoes louder in her ears.
She is sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. She is staring at the clock, watching its hands move slower than they should. The ticking grows louder and louder until it feels like it’s drilling into her skull. Her breathing is shallow, and her hands tremble as she wraps her arms around herself, trying to hold onto reality.
Renzo stands in the doorway, observing her from the shadows. His figure is barely visible, just a silhouette, but she can feel his eyes on her, like a predator watching its prey. The weight of his gaze makes her skin crawl, but she can’t bring herself to look away from the clock. She doesn’t trust herself anymore.
Suddenly, the ticking stops.
The silence is deafening, and her heart begins to race as she waits for something—anything—to happen. But the room remains still, too still. Then, a voice breaks the silence.
She's own voice, distorted. "You’re not real."
She gasps and scrambles to her feet, spinning around to face the room. The distorted version of her stands in the middle of the room, smiling wickedly, her eyes hollow and dark.
Distorted Shayla: "You’re just a shadow. A figment. You think he’s helping you? He’s the one who’s done this to you."
Shayla presses her hands against her ears, her mind spiraling. The hallucinations have become more vivid, more invasive. She can’t tell if the figure is real or not, but she feels the truth of the words in her bones.
Renzo steps forward, his voice calm, yet commanding, slicing through her confusion.
"What are you seeing this time, Shayla? Is it her again?" His tone is mocking, as if the hallucination was nothing more than a child's nightmare.
Shayla shakes her head violently, her hands gripping her hair. "Make it stop! Please, just make it stop! I’m begging you!"
He crouches down beside her, gently prying her hands away from her head. His touch is soft, tender even, but the malice behind his eyes tells a different story.
"Oh, Shayla... I am trying to help. But you keep resisting me. You keep fighting what’s inevitable. Maybe... just maybe you don’t want to get better."
He leans closer, his lips brushing her ear, his breath cold against her skin. "Maybe deep down, you like being broken. Maybe that’s why you keep seeing things that aren’t there."
Shayla's sobs grow louder, her body trembling uncontrollably. She looks at Renzo, her vision blurring. For a brief moment, she sees two of him—one kind, compassionate, and the other twisted and malevolent. The room spins as her mind fractures further.
She whispers. "I’m losing myself... I don’t know what’s real anymore."
Renzo’s smile widens, and his voice drops to a whisper, his words like venom sinking into her consciousness.
"That’s right. You’re not real, Shayla. None of this is real. It’s all just in your head. But you can still trust me, I’m always here for you... you know that, don’t you?"
The distorted version of Shayla steps closer, her grin growing impossibly wide, her voice now echoing in Evelyn’s mind.
Distorted Shayla: "He’s lying. He’s always been lying. You were fine before him."
Renzo rises to his feet, looming over her. His tone shifts, becoming more authoritative, more menacing.
"There’s no one else here, Shayla. You’re alone. You’ve always been alone. I’m the only one who’s ever cared about you."
Shayla's eyes dart between Renzo and the distorted version of herself. She feels the walls closing in, the air growing thinner. Her body is heavy, weak from the constant gaslighting, the endless manipulation. She wants to scream, but her voice is caught in her throat. Is she even Shayla anymore?
Renzo takes a step back, watching her with twisted satisfaction. He knows he has her where he wants her—completely dependent on him, trapped in her own mind. He has turned her world into a nightmare, a reality where she can’t trust herself, and he is the only constant.
"Come here, Shyla."
She hesitates, her mind torn between obeying him and running away. But where would she go? Every step she takes seems to pull her deeper into his web. Slowly, shakily, she rises to her feet, her gaze fixed on the ground.
"I don’t know who I am anymore..." She said softly
"You don’t need to know. I’ll tell you who you are."
She takes a step toward him, her limbs heavy with the weight of her fear and confusion. The distorted version of herself fades into the background, watching, waiting for her to break free. But Renzo’s voice drowns everything else out, pulling her back into his control.
He grinned. "Good girl. You’re starting to understand now."
His voice is soothing, but it hides the darkness that clings to every word. Shayla stands before him, broken, her mind shattered into fragments that she can no longer piece together.
"Am I really losing my mind?" her voice was a bit of a whisper
He smiled. "No, Shyla. You’re just... becoming who you were meant to be."
She feels his hand on her cheek, gentle but possessive. Her eyes close as a single tear rolls down her face. The hallucinations may fade, but the prison Renzo has built around her mind remains, tightening its grip with every moment she spends in his presence.
And in the depths of her heart, she knows—there’s no escape.