The next few days passed in a blur. Abby was recovering physically, her wound healing faster than expected, but there was sothing else that weighed heavily in the air. Sothing that neither Remo nor Abby could na, but both could feel.
Abby had noticed the shift in her thoughts. Small things at first—misplaced items, forgotten monts—but it was easy to write off as stress. She was recovering from a traumatic experience after all. She told herself it was normal. But then, the whispers began.
It started as faint murmurs at the edge of her mind, a voice she couldn’t place. A nagging sensation that she wasn’t alone, even when the room was empty. She tried to ignore it, to chalk it up to exhaustion and anxiety, but the voices grew louder with each passing day, their words indistinct but persistent. They spoke to her in monts of silence, a constant, maddening hum.
She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her reflection, trying to gather her thoughts. Her face looked pale, her skin almost ghostly under the harsh fluorescent lights. She leaned in closer, scrutinizing her eyes. Had the circles under them always been this dark?
The whispers grew louder.
He’s going to leave you.
Nicole was right. You’re losing him.
Tick tock, Abby. Ti’s running out.
Her breath quickened as the words twisted and echoed in her mind. She gripped the sink, forcing herself to breathe, trying to push the voices away, but they clung to her, relentless. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would clear her head, but the sensation did little to help.
When she looked up again, her reflection seed... different. Was her face slightly distorted? She blinked, shaking her head. It was just the stress. She needed to rest.
As she turned off the bathroom light and walked back into the bedroom, she noticed the flowers from a few days ago sitting on the nightstand. They had begun to wilt, the once vibrant red petals curling inward, their color darkening into sothing sinister. The sight of them filled her with an inexplicable sense of dread.
Abby sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding, the card’s words still echoing in her mind. Tick tock, Abby. Your ti is running out. She hadn’t ntioned the card to Remo. How could she? She had convinced herself it was nothing more than a sick prank. But now... now she wasn’t so sure.
She picked up the card again, staring at the handwriting. It looked familiar, and yet she couldn’t place where she had seen it before. The more she stared, the more her vision seed to blur, and the whispers returned, louder, mocking her.
He knows. Remo knows everything. And when he finds out the rest, he’ll leave you.
You’re just like her. You’ll end up just like her.
Abby’s hands shook as she dropped the card, backing away from the nightstand as if it had co alive. The whispers were unbearable now, filling her head with doubt, with fear, with a sense of impending doom.
Her breathing grew shallow as her eyes darted around the room, searching for sothing—anything—that made sense. But everything felt off, distorted. The walls seed to close in around her, and the flowers, those wretched flowers, seed to wilt further before her eyes, as if they were rotting right there on the table.
Suddenly, the door to the bedroom creaked open, and Remo stepped in. He paused when he saw her, his brow furrowing with concern. "Abby? Are you alright?"
She looked at him, trying to form words, but nothing ca out. The whispers were drowning out her thoughts, pulling her deeper into their relentless cycle of fear and paranoia. She forced a smile, though it felt wrong, out of place. "I... I’m fine," she managed to say, though her voice was shaky.
Remo walked over to her, sitting down beside her on the bed, his hand gently resting on her knee. "You don’t look fine," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. "Sothing’s been off. Talk to ."
Abby wanted to tell him everything, to pour out the truth about the card, the whispers, the terror that had gripped her mind. But as she opened her mouth to speak, the voices scread louder.
He’ll think you’re crazy.
He’ll leave you. Just like they all did.
She swallowed hard, shaking her head. "It’s just... the recovery. It’s taking a toll on , that’s all."
Remo wasn’t convinced. He studied her for a long mont, his gaze filled with concern. "Abby, I love you, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell what’s going on. Ever since that night... you’ve been different."
Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She knew he was right, but the idea of confessing what was happening to her felt too dangerous. What if he didn’t believe her? What if he thought she was losing her mind?
She placed her hand over his, squeezing it gently. "I just need so rest. It’s been a lot to process, and I think I’m still shaken from... everything."
He sighed, but nodded, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Alright. Just promise you’ll talk to if sothing’s wrong. I’m worried about you."
Abby nodded, offering him another strained smile. "I promise."
But as Remo left the room, Abby’s smile faded, and the whispers crept back into her mind.
Liar. He knows you’re hiding sothing.
It’s only a matter of ti before he finds out.
She walked over to the flowers again, staring at the dead, decaying petals. The whispers continued to swirl in her head, louder and more nacing with each passing minute.
Her mind was unraveling, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Alone in the dimly lit room, Abby sank to her knees, clutching her head as the voices grew louder and louder, consuming her.
Tick tock, Abby. Your ti is running out.
And deep down, she knew they were right.
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