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But as Ansel's power washed over me, a green cloud encircled us in a haze, a part of me succumbed to the deep well of relaxation that called to me. I sank into the couch and the room tilted slightly as my body gave in to the warmth that spread through my limbs.
"Easy, Averill," Ansel whispered, his breath ghosting over my temple, a stark contrast to the cold fingers of doubt that still clawed at the edges of my mind. "Trust me."
The world spun, and the last thing I saw before closing my eyes was the conflicted shadow on Kylo's face, the way his jaw clenched tight enough to shatter bones. He wasn't just worried; he was scared—scared for me.
The green smoke enveloped us and carried us away on a wave of Ansel's making. I floated on the edge of something vast and terrifying, a reminder that I was about to dive headfirst into the unknown—with the one man Kylo and I had vowed to never fully trust. As the real world faded to black, I clung to the irony—it had always been easier to navigate the shadows than the light.
A sensation like falling through clouds, thick and disorienting, swallowed me. Ansel's presence was a tether in the chaos. His hand gripped mine with a strength that was both reassuring and completely terrifying.
"Keep your eyes on me," he ordered, his voice a lighthouse in the foggy void.
"Because that never leads to disaster." Vertigo clutched at my stomach. The green smoke that had carried us there dissipated into shadowy tendrils, and the silence that followed was haunting.
"Welcome to my mind's version of a vacation hotspot," My attempt at humor fell flat, engulfed by the oppressive atmosphere of my inner world.
The world inside my head was about as welcoming as a tax audit.
I stood on the precipice of an unforgiving landscape, the skies overhead a brooding canvas of charcoal and venomous green. The land stretched out before me, a tapestry of ruin and decay, punctuated by the skeletons of structures that once held significance. A dilapidated house here, a shattered clock tower there—each a monument to a memory I’d rather forget.
"Cheery place you've got in here," Ansel’s voice echoed against the desolation.
"Please, this is nothing. You should see it around Christmas."
But even my own cynicism couldn't lighten the weight that bore down on me with each step we took. The ground beneath our feet crumbled like stale bread, a metaphor for my fractured psyche if there ever was one.
Ansel gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this together."
"Sure," I muttered, unconvinced. "Because everything's peachy when you're strolling through someone's psychological minefield."
The first rumble of thunder echoed through the desolation, a low growl that seemed to rise from the ground under my feet. I glanced at Ansel, his expression drum-tight with concentration as he scanned the horizon. His posture radiated a confidence I envied.
"Cozy weather we're having." I watched as dark clouds roiled together overhead, like the sky seethed in anger. The winds picked up and flung dust and debris from the crumbling structures around us, forcing me to shield my eyes.
"Stay close, Averill," Ansel shouted and grabbed my arm to steady me.
"Was planning on it. Not exactly picnic conditions," I shot back, but my voice was drowned out by the howl of the wind. A part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity, at the metaphorical storm inside my head becoming all too literal. But laughter was a luxury I couldn't afford—not when every gust felt like it peeled layers off my soul.
Lightning split the sky, a jagged line of pure, furious energy, and for a moment, everything was illuminated—the ruins of my psyche laid bare. Then came the rain, fat drops that slapped against my skin with the force of accusations and soaked through my clothes, chilling me to the bone.
That's when I saw it—a silhouette that formed inside the storm, something massive and terrifying. It loomed out of the chaos, its features indistinct yet unmistakably monstrous. My breath caught in my throat and a primal fear gripped me as the creature stepped forward, revealing its hideous form.
"Ansel..." My voice was a whisper of alarm.
"I see it, Averill."
It was a behemoth stitched together from every nightmare I'd ever had, a merger of all the things I feared the most. Its skin was the color of despair, a mottled gray that seemed to suck in what little color there was. Spikes jutted from its shoulders and down its back. Its eyes were a void, endless pits of darkness that promised oblivion.
The beast loomed larger than life, a nightmarish figure pulled from the trenches of a mind that had seen too much darkness.
"Remember who you are." Ansel's voice was firm, grounding.
"Someone who's really wishing she had a flamethrower right about now," I squared my shoulders and forced myself to meet the gaze of the monster inside me.
Its roar was deafening, a sound that threatened to shatter my sanity. But if there was one thing I knew about monsters, it was that they thrived on fear. And I'd be damned if I gave this one the satisfaction.
"Come on then, ugly," I taunted and drew on every ounce of defiance I had. "Let's dance."
My feet shifted, narcing on my instincts to bolt, but fear rooted me as firmly as the dark memories that clawed their way up my throat.
