~Louis Mansion~
The mansion was unusually quiet. Maids and servants tiptoed about their duties, careful not to draw attention, and even the butler carried himself with unease.
Every corner of the house scread of tension and caution. No one wanted to step into the lilight and risk being lambasted by the furiously unstable Sylas.
The past four days had left them with terrible mories of night tis.
Unlike those nights that had Sylas sitting in the sitting room watching TV, going through the news and sotis making business calls; night ti was now riddled with fear and trepidation, weaving the house into tension.
So of the staff had also resigned with the changes that had left the house feeling as though they had been plunged into the scariest haunted house.
Worst was the fact that the dominant, cold and powerful Sylas Louis had gradually beco a shadow of himself, he now teetered on the fine thin line of sanity and insanity.
At one point he was calm and the next you found him mumbling nonstop and incoherently to himself… sotis in a low soft voice, at other tis he would be screaming.
At so point, he ran out of his bedroom as though pursued by ghosts and at other tis he cowered beside the foot of the bed or the sofa in the living room.
There were nights he fell to his knees, kowtowing, muttering apologies while sweating profusely.
But if anyone dared to and possibly tapped him, the haze would suddenly clear, and he would see himself in an undignified and embarrassing state.
Ashad and enraged, he would storm back to his room or fire the unlucky witness on the spot.
Worse than his erratic behavior were the voices. The Incoherent, inconsistent, relentless voices that seed to follow him everywhere; sotis in soft whispers, sotis chuckles, sotis eerie laughter.
No matter their tone, they pushed him closer to the edge of insanity.
They mocked him for his evil. They replayed his past conversations, twisting them, taunting him until he dared not close his eyes. Sleep beca impossible.
Several tis, Sylas asked the butler if he heard them too. The man always shook his head, with a shrug he would tell him "No"
After so many repeats, Sylas drew his own conclusion of the condition. With him being the only person seeing and hearing the voices, he was definitely hallucinating.
But that knowledge offered no relief. The tornt only grew heavier with psychological torture that gnawed at his mind and body.
It resembled PTSD, though Sylas would never dare to speak the word aloud.
Dusk beca his greatest enemy. Each ti the sun sank into the horizon and darkness spread, his body tensed instinctively.
A slow, suffocating dread crept into his chest, fear clawed at his bones, he had even thought of relocating to a hotel but still waved it off.
To put it mildly, his night ti had totally taken a different turn… moving from the peaceful night rest to a fierce life of battles with ghosts…wars fought not against flesh, but against the ghosts within his heart.
And by morning he would be left utterly drained, frustrated and his eyes bloodshot.
To curb the nace threatening to drive him to madness, he had instructed his subordinate to get into contact with a renowned psychologist, Dr. Frederick Hughes and possibly book an appointnt with him.
Now, Sylas sat in the living room, his face unnervingly calm, his bloodshot eyes proof of sleepless nights. On the side table lay a half-empty bottle of wine and a glass.
His subordinate stood stiffly just a few feet away from him. His gaze on Sylas probing.
With slow, deliberate and asured movent, Sylas picked up the glass of wine and took a sip. His gaze was hollow and unfocused as though he was just going through the motion.
His subordinate's gaze lingered on his face for a brief while he studied him. He quietly took in the sight of the once proud and cold dominant boss now riddled and crushed by exhaustion and frustration.
His mind couldn't help but wander away with questions swirling deep.
What has gone wrong? the subordinate wondered.
Has the boss really gone insane?
Wouldn't it have been wiser to seek a psychiatrist rather than a psychologist?
Sylas' calm voice broke through the eerie silence of the sitting room. "Am I now that scary?" He smirked.
The subordinate felt his heartbeat pause briefly and resud again, his gaze lowered as he took a deep breath. "No, Sir," he clipped.
Sylas lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing at him before he lowered it. "No… but why do I feel you are afraid, keeping a few distances from ?"
The subordinate kept mute. The truth remained he wasn't entirely scared of him but having been at his side for a long ti, he had begun wondering if his wrongs weren't now catching up on him…finally dragging him into damnation.
Noting his silence, Sylas exhaled deeply. "Forget it, it doesn't matter anymore." He almost sounded weary.
It was already surprising he was still willing to remain with him when his counterparts had already left him imdiately he lost most of his powers and assets.
It was as though they were already distancing themselves from him. But it didn't matter, whenever he was able to get through these troubling tis, they would co crawling back on their knees for him to have them back.
A soft smile crept up his lips at the thought of it.
"Were you able to schedule the eting with him?" He asked softly.
The subordinate shook his head in denial. "I am sorry, I wasn't able to convince him." His tone dangerously calm that Sylas had to lift up his gaze to et him.
"Why?"
"Sir," he called, his tone skeptical, contemplating if he should tell him the details of the visit.
Sylas's eyes hardened. "No need to hide it. What did he say?" His voice carried a strange twig helplessness.
"He said his schedule is completely booked. He wouldn't be able to accommodate your request."
Sylas nodded grimly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I expected as much," he muttered to himself.
He leaned back on the couch, his eyes fluttering to a close. "I am tired," he muttered more to himself.
Seeing his shoulders sagged with defeat and helplessness under an invisible weight., his subordinate sighed softly. He couldn't help but think to himself.
With the symptoms of hallucination, hearing of voices as exhibited by Sylas surely this is sothing deeper and if his guess is right…shouldn't that be a ntal condition only a psychiatrist can treat.
He glanced at Sylas briefly, contemplating whether to speak or not. Sylas felt the intense gaze of the subordinate. "What do you want to say?" Sylas asked.
"Sir," he called tentatively, "I think you should visit the hospital directly." He said in one breath.
Hearing the subordinate ntion the hospital, Sylas rubbed his brow. He had even given that a thought.
"With my unwelcod status now, don't you think I will be on the screen even before I step into the hospital?"
"Sir, what I ant is… visit a psychiatrist."
Sylas' eyes snapped open, raging with fury as he stared at the subordinate glaring at him with venom.
"Did I tell you I am insane? Do you think I have lost my mind? How dare you insult ?"
Sylas's breath ca in gasps, his hands clenched into a fist.
The subordinate felt his blood run cold. Realizing his words had triggered Sylas further, he turned and bolted for his life.
Sylas rose sharply, his fury twisted into cold resolve to Destroy the subordinate.
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