Page 16 of Shattered Obsession

When at last I finally set the pen down, the silence in my room is weighted. I murmur the affirmations I've scribbled, a faint prayer clinging to my heart, even though belief feels distant. “I’m strong. I’m enough. And I will survive this.”

In a fit of desperation, I uninstall the app that connected me to him, erasing every trace of Damian from my life. I block his number, his socials, every platform I can think of, severing the toxic ties that have bound me. But in that act of self-preservation, I realize I’m also cutting off Xander, a connection that once brought me joy and now feels like a casualty in this battle.

In the aftermath, I experience a suffocating silence that envelops me. The emptiness rings loudly, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my thoughts and feelings, unsure of how to move forward.

Each day blends into the next, with just me and the remnants of what was once a more vibrant existence. I don’t have it in me to go out, so I lie in bed, only getting up to eat on the occasion that I actually feel hungry. It’s as though time is moving slowly, but before I know it, the whole week has passed, marking the end of another month.

I lie flat on my back in bed, eyes wide open, fixated on the ceiling as if the answers to my turbulent thoughts might be inscribed among the cracks and blemishes. My body feels heavy, weighed down by an exhaustion that seeps deep into my bones, yet my mind races ceaselessly. It spins wildly, a relentless cyclone of thoughts that claw at one another, desperate for release. I yearn to cocoon myself in blankets, to drown out the world, but once I do, they turn into a weight, constricting my chest. Kicking them off only leaves me exposed, the cool air pricking my skin as if the very atmosphere were hostile.

I force myself to breathe, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Again and again. But the rhythm feels futile. Everything is manageable when someone is with me; their presence keeps the shadows at bay. But the moment I am left alone, the walls close in, a heavy and unforgiving pressure that pins me down like a predator ready to pounce. No matter how hard I try to push it off, to claw my way out of my own spiraling thoughts, I am trapped. It feels as though I’m drowning in an ocean of my own mind, gasping for air as panic fills my lungs.

Rolling onto my side, I clutch my phone tightly; the smooth surface offers a small comfort. I need to reach out. I need to hear another voice in the corpse-like quiet of my apartment. Yet, it’s late, too late, and reality settles in that everyone is asleep, wrapped in their own dreams, and the world outside is far removed from my turmoil. I can’t demand too much from anyone. So, I remain here, biting my lip until a sharp sting of pain brings me back to the present. I whisper to the empty room, “I just need someone to talk to,” but silence, heavy and unyielding, answers back.

The nights that follow are steeped in the same oppressive darkness, pressing in around me like a fog that won’t lift. Sleep, which once offered an escape, becomes a distant memory, and when it finally finds me, it arrives dragging nightmares that slice through the remnants of my peace, sharp and suffocating, leaving me gulping awake, heart racing and body slick with sweat. I lose count of the hours that slip past as days blend into one another like brushstrokes on a bleak canvas. But amidst the relentless gloom, a tiny flicker of light breaks through. Not enough to banish the darkness entirely, but enough to create a jagged line of hope.

In the haze of one of these interminable nights, I decide to open Instagram, my fingers trembling slightly as I type out a message.

Thalia

I’m sorry I ghosted you. Something bad happened.

The words feel inadequate, inadequate to explain the chaos swirling in my mind, but I send it anyway. His response is simple, yet laden with concern.

Xander

Are you okay?

In this moment, I choose not to divulge the truth, not just yet. Instead, I respond with a simple ‘yes’. It feels like a lie, an uncomfortable mask I wear to shield the rawness of my reality, but it’s enough to keep him engaged.

Slowly, I feel the tension in my chest begin to loosen as we exchange messages, filled with laughter and fragments of our lives, talking late into the night until the heaviness inside me becomes somewhat bearable.

Just two weeks after the assault, after countless days of texting back and forth, some nights even staying up into the early morning hours, he asks me out on a date. The word itself sends a jolt of apprehension through me, causing me to flinch at first. Dating feels foreign, a territory I didn’t expect to navigate again so soon, if ever. But deep down, a fragile part of me understands that taking even the smallest step forward feels like an act of survival. It embodies defiance against the darkness, a flicker of hope. At first, I’m not sure I want to say yes, but the small spark of happiness that shoots through me when we text tells me I have to give him a shot. So I say yes.

He gives me the details and offers to meet at the mall since I told him I prefer open and public areas. He suggests that we get lunch and just walk around and talk, which sounds like something I can handle.

From this point on, our conversations unfold like a gentle tide, day by day, message by message. I can’t help but feel that it was sheer chance that led Damian to reach out first, chance that I chose to go out with him instead of Xander. A twist of fate that had almost broken me, yet also, in an inexplicable way, ensured that Xander was still waiting when I finally mustered the courage to reach out again. It’s the kind of chance that feels woven into the fabric of fate itself, a gentle reminder that even in darkness, light can find a way through.

The soft glow of my phone illuminates the darkness of the room, casting long shadows that dance eerily across the walls. His messages linger on the screen like fireflies in the night, tiny bursts of light that should fill my heart with warmth and joy.

Xander showers me with compliments that commend my sense of humor, my sweetness, and my beauty. Yet, despite the affection behind his words, they slide off me like rainwater on a slick surface, failing to penetrate the weight of my self-doubt.

Outside, the world continues its relentless march. Strangers stroll past, lost in their own lives, and I can hear laughter echoing from down the street, too loud and carefree. I can’t help but wonder if they ever feel this profound emptiness. Do they lie awake at night questioning if the people they cherish will someday vanish, leaving behind only echoes of laughter and shared moments? My finger traces through the condensation on the glass, creating a delicate path, line after line, until the chaotic thoughts in my mind blur into streaks on the surface.

Happiness, to me, feels like something borrowed, a luxury that teases and then retreats. Whenever I dare to believe that I might be deserving of joy, the universe seems to snatch it back, reminding me of my unworthiness. The part of me that should rage against this unfairness, that should scream for validation and the right to be happy, is too exhausted to put up a fight.

I steal a glance at his name, lighting up my phone screen—Xander is reaching out, trying to bridge the gap. He’s offering me something good, something that could bring light into my life.

But in the pit of my stomach, a familiar whisper worms its way in. He’ll leave. They always do. And if he walks away, what will I be left with? Just another stranger lost to the dance of time. Just another fleeting memory that will gradually fade into oblivion, entirely replaceable.

CHAPTER FIVE

-Thalia-

I asked Isla to drop me off at the mall. I need the extra support since I was nervous to meet Xander face to face. As we pull up to the parking lot, I see Xander pacing back and forth at the front door, obviously just as nervous as I am. Sitting in the car, I struggle to gain the courage to open the door, but then I hear Isla say she’s just one text away, which makes me feel better.

I open the door to step out and meet Xander at the front door.

“Can I hug you?” he asks quietly, and despite the nerves, I consent. He leans in slowly to give me a light hug.