The days that followed felt like a blur. There was a strange kind of emptiness that filled the space where the chaos used to reside. For so long, my life had been defined by the hunger, the desire to control, to consume, to destroy. But now, with Zenith gone, with Voss defeated, the world felt... still. Almost too still.
Alan and Mara remained by my side, but even they seemed distant, as if the weight of everything that had happened was pressing down on them too. I tried to keep up the appearance of normalcy, to pretend that everything was fine, but deep down, I knew I wasn't the same person I used to be. The monster, the man who had stalked through the shadows, had been buried, but it wasn't gone. It was lurking, waiting, like a predator lying in wait.
I spent the next few weeks drifting between moments of clarity and waves of confusion. The world outside my window looked the same—people going about their lives, oblivious to the turmoil that had just unfolded—but everything felt different. I was different.
Mara was the first to notice. She was always perceptive, always watching, always understanding more than I gave her credit for.
"You're not really here, are you?" she asked one evening, as we sat in the small apartment we'd been hiding in since everything collapsed.
I looked at her, the words caught in my throat. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes softened. "You've been distant. Not physically, but... emotionally. Like you're still stuck in your head, like you can't leave it behind."
I wanted to deny it, to push her words away, but I couldn't. She was right. I was trapped. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of those I had hurt, the lives I had destroyed, the choices I had made. There was no escape from it.
"You know what I am," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not sure I can live with what I've done. I don't know how to be anything else."
She reached out, her hand brushing mine in a gesture of reassurance. "You don't have to have it all figured out, Psychobi. You don't have to have all the answers. You've already done the hardest part—you've started living. The rest will come."
But I didn't know if I could believe her. There was too much blood on my hands, too many pieces of myself scattered in the wake of everything that had happened. Could I ever truly be free? Or would the darkness always be there, lurking just beneath the surface?
Alan wasn't much help. He was always the silent one, the observer, the person who never let his emotions show. He kept his distance, his eyes always focused on the horizon, as though searching for something just beyond reach.
I didn't know what he was looking for, but I understood the feeling. It was the same feeling I had every time I woke up in the morning, every time I looked in the mirror. A sense of emptiness, a longing for something I couldn't name. I didn't know if I was searching for redemption, peace, or just a way to silence the voices in my head.
One night, unable to sleep, I found myself on the balcony, staring out at the city lights below. The air was cold, but the stillness felt comforting. The city was alive, but it felt like I was the only one in the world. The hunger that had once consumed me was quiet now, but I knew it was still there, just below the surface, waiting.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft, silver light across the city. It was beautiful, in a way, but it also felt like a reminder—of everything I had lost, and everything I had yet to face.
"Is it enough?" I muttered to myself, the question floating in the air like a ghost.
I wasn't sure what the answer was. Was I enough? Was I ever going to be enough to make up for the things I had done? Could I even be forgiven for the person I had been, for the choices I had made?
I heard the door behind me creak open, and Alan stepped out onto the balcony, his gaze following mine. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, watching the city with me.
"I'm not sure I know what I'm doing," I admitted, the words coming out before I could stop them. "I don't know what happens next."
Alan didn't respond immediately. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch out between us. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost like he was weighing each word carefully.
"None of us do," he said. "We can't change the past, Psychobi. But we can choose what we do with what's left. That's all we can control."
I didn't answer right away. His words didn't make everything better, but they didn't have to. They were just... words. But maybe, for once, they were enough. Enough to stop me from spiraling, enough to make me see that maybe, just maybe, I had a chance to rebuild—to become something more than the monster I had been.
I looked at Alan then, his face shadowed in the dim light, and realized that maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn't the end after all. Maybe it was just the beginning.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that the future was mine to shape.
..............
"Don't miss the chance to get advanced chapters of my novel for FREE! Just copy the link now and start reading!"
https://shorturl.at/3DZhG