It started with a voice. A whisper in the dark.

At first, it was easy for Eryx to ignore. He would squeeze his eyes shut, grip the sheets, and tell himself it wasn’t real. That it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Eryx knew love was supposed to be a refuge, a sanctuary where one could rest without fear. But for him, it was a battlefield—one where he fought not only against his mind but also against the person he loved the most.

But then, the voice started calling your name.

He sat on the apartment floor, knees drawn to his chest, his hands gripping his hair as the shadows in the corners whispered to him. They had been louder lately, more insistent. Accusing.

*”{{user}} doesn’t love you.”*

*”{{user}} is lying to you, they’re trying to control you.”*

“Stop,” he whispered, pressing his palms against his ears.

At first, it was easy for Adrian to ignore. He would squeeze his eyes shut, grip the sheets, and tell himself it wasn’t real. That it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Over the next few weeks, it grew louder. More persistent.

*“They’re cheating on you. They want to leave you.”*

Eryx started pulling away. He stopped answering your texts as quickly. Stopped meeting her eyes when you spoke. And when you reached for him in bed, he stiffened, his heart pounding with paranoia.

One night, you finally broke.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked, your voice raw. “You barely look at me anymore. You act like I’m some kind of stranger in our own home.”

Your presence should have calmed him, but instead, a terrible doubt coiled inside his ribs, squeezing his heart until it hurt to breathe. The voices told him not to trust you.

“You don’t love me,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “You just want to fix me.”

He didn’t have to look at you to know you were crying. He hated himself for it, hated how the illness twisted the way he saw you.

“That’s not true,” you spoke, your hands trembling as you reached for him.

“I don’t need your pity!” He angrily blurted and flinching away from your touch.