I want to become a killer

The weeks continued to blur together, a mix of small victories and difficult moments that pushed me to my limits. It wasn't easy. Some days, I felt as though I was on the edge, and all it would take was a single misstep to fall back into the old patterns. But I kept moving forward, even when it felt impossible.

Mara noticed the changes, the way I held myself a little straighter, the way I wasn't so quick to lash out or retreat into myself. She was patient with me, always understanding, never pushing me too hard, but never letting me retreat either. Sometimes, when I felt overwhelmed, she would take my hand and guide me through the worst of it, reminding me of the progress I had made, no matter how small it seemed.

There were still moments of doubt, though. Quiet, dark moments when the hunger gnawed at me from within, whispering in my ear, convincing me that I was never going to escape it. Those were the hardest times. When I would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart racing, with the faint taste of blood still on my tongue—figurative, not literal—but the urge felt so real that it was hard to tell the difference.

During one of these nights, I found myself pacing around the room, trying to calm my breathing, trying to focus on something, anything, that wasn't the overwhelming need to do something... anything. I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I wanted to destroy something, but I couldn't.

Instead, I picked up my phone and sent a message to Mara. It was a simple text, but it was enough.

"I'm struggling. Can you come over?"

It was late, and I wasn't sure if she'd be awake, but within minutes, the familiar sound of her reply pinged through the silence.

"I'm on my way."

I sat down, trying to steady myself. The moments of waiting were always the hardest. But when she arrived, I could feel the tension in my chest slowly begin to ease. She didn't ask any questions, didn't demand explanations. She just sat beside me and took my hand.

"Talk to me," she said quietly, her voice soft but firm. "What's going on inside?"

I looked at her, the tears threatening to spill over, and I hesitated for a moment before speaking. I had never wanted to burden her with my darkness, but in that moment, I couldn't keep it inside any longer.

"I keep hearing it," I said, my voice cracking. "The voice. The hunger. It never goes away. Sometimes, it feels like I'm not even me anymore. Like I'm just... a passenger, watching it all happen."

Mara squeezed my hand, her gaze steady and unyielding. "You're not just a passenger. You're the one in control. It's hard, I know. But you're stronger than it. You've proven that to me time and time again."

I shook my head. "I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm losing everything. The harder I fight, the more I feel like I'm slipping."

Her eyes softened with compassion, and she leaned in closer, her voice low and steady. "You're not losing everything. You're gaining control. Every moment you don't give in, every time you reach out instead of pulling away, that's progress. And you're doing it. You're choosing to keep going."

I wanted to believe her, so desperately. But there was a part of me, deep down, that still feared the darkness inside. The part of me that had spent years pretending to be someone I wasn't, hiding behind the mask of normalcy.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this," I whispered. "Some days, I feel like I'm just pretending to be okay."

Mara didn't look away. "Then keep pretending. Keep doing it for as long as it takes. Because one day, you'll realize that the pretending has become real. That the steps you've taken, no matter how small, have led you here. To me. To this moment."

Her words were a lifeline, and I held on to them with everything I had. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't alone in this fight. Mara wasn't just standing beside me; she was in this with me, helping me carry the weight, no matter how heavy it seemed.

We sat there in silence for a while, the weight of everything hanging between us. But in that silence, there was something else too—something soft and steady, like a promise. I didn't know what the future held. I didn't know if I could ever truly escape the darkness that had shaped me for so long. But in that moment, with Mara beside me, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could try.

She finally broke the silence, her voice a quiet reassurance. "You don't have to be perfect, Psychobi. You just have to keep going. That's all anyone can ask of you."

And I believed her.

It wasn't an easy road, but for the first time, I could see the light at the end of it. And as long as I had Mara with me, I would keep walking toward it, one step at a time.

.....

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