the takeover

in the dark of night when reality is a ghost she finds you, echoes at first of a half forgotten memory. you thought she had left you, but the more you listen the more you realise that she's been there all along, waiting for you to trip; and while your vision blurs she slips back in the door. it's lonely when you lose yourself and at first you think she cares. you forget that she is both your fear and your need, that she will alternately soothe you with the soft lilting voice of a lover and grip you unrelenting with claws razor sharp, moulding you until you don't recognise yourself. she is the stability you crave and, without thought, without feeling, you don't look back as you follow her into the shadows. you wake in the morning with your constant companion, your deadliest friend, and you realise it's possible for obsession and hate to coexist. you look in the mirror and her eyes look back from inside the shell of you that she's made her home. by this time you may know that in letting her live you have given her free will to slowly but surely destroy you. you begin to remember that she whispers false promises and that there is no silence in sleep, but by then she has what remains of your soul in a stranglehold and you, passive and cold, simply watch as she drains you of life.

The End

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