The Twisted Obsession-Chapter 265: Hallucinating

Fredrick’s house had become a prison for Margaret. She paced the halls, her mind a swirling vortex of paranoia and fear. Her husband’s downfall had shattered her carefully constructed world, and now, the walls seemed to close in around her.

Margaret clutched at her temples, her eyes darting around the dimly lit corridor. The whispers were growing louder, more insistent, echoing off the marble floors and ornate walls. She could hear her name being called, a ghostly chant that chilled her to the bone.

"Margaret..."

She spun around, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Who’s there?" she demanded, her voice trembling. The hallway was empty, but the whispers persisted, growing louder, more distinct.

"Margaret..."

She stumbled backwards, her eyes wide with terror. "No... no, this isn’t real," she muttered, trying to convince herself. But the whispers were relentless, weaving through her mind like a dark, insidious fog.

"Margaret, you can’t escape..."

She turned and fled down the corridor, her footsteps echoing loudly. She burst into the drawing room, the once comforting space now filled with shadows that seemed to reach out for her. She could hear the faint strains of a lullaby, a haunting melody that sent shivers down her spine.

"Stop it!" she screamed, clutching at her head. "Just stop!"

But the voices didn’t stop. They grew louder, more mocking. And then, she saw her. Standing in the corner of the room, shrouded in a pale, ethereal light, was Abby’s mother.

Margaret’s breath caught in her throat. "No... you’re dead. You’re not real."

The apparition stepped forward, her eyes filled with sorrow and anger. "Why, Margaret? Why did you do it?"

Margaret shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I didn’t... I didn’t mean to..."

"You killed me," the ghostly figure said, her voice cold and accusing. "You took everything from my daughter. And now, it’s your turn to suffer."

Margaret fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry..."

The figure of Abby’s mother loomed over her, her presence suffocating. "Sorry isn’t enough, Margaret. You will pay for what you’ve done."

Margaret screamed, a raw, guttural sound that echoed through the empty halls. She scrambled to her feet and ran, but no matter where she went, the ghost followed, always just a step behind.

"Leave me alone!" she cried, her voice hoarse with desperation. "Please, leave me alone!"

But there was no escape. Every corner she turned, every door she opened, the ghost was there, a constant reminder of her sins. Her mind was unraveling, reality blurring with the nightmarish visions that plagued her.

In her frantic flight, Margaret stumbled into the grand staircase, her foot catching on the edge of the carpet. She fell, tumbling down the steps, her body landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Pain shot through her, but it was nothing compared to the torment in her mind.

As she lay there, gasping for breath, she could hear the whispers again, louder than ever.

"Margaret, you can’t hide..."

She lifted her head, her vision swimming. The ghost of Abby’s mother stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at her with cold, unforgiving eyes.

"You will never be free," the ghost intoned. "This is your punishment. This is your hell."

Margaret’s screams echoed through the empty mansion, a haunting symphony of madness and despair. Her mind shattered, consumed by the guilt and terror that Abby had so carefully orchestrated. There was no escape from her torment, no respite from the haunting specter of her past.

Frederick rushed into the room, his face pale with worry. He found Margaret lying at the foot of the grand staircase, her body trembling, eyes wide with terror.

"Margaret, what’s wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. He knelt beside her, trying to lift her up. "Margaret, talk to me."

Margaret’s eyes darted around wildly, as if she were seeing something only she could perceive. "She’s here! She won’t leave me alone!" she cried, her voice frantic.

Frederick’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Who’s here, Margaret?"

"She’s haunting me," Margaret whimpered. "I can’t get away from her."

Frederick’s heart pounded as he tried to make sense of her words. "Margaret, you’re not making any sense. Who’s haunting you?"

Margaret laughed hysterically, a chilling sound that echoed through the hall. "Of course I did! Why did she have to have everything? I’m the eldest! She stole everything from me, so I took it all back."

Frederick recoiled, his eyes widening in shock. "Margaret, what are you saying? Did you... did you kill Abby’s mother?"

Margaret’s laughter continued, a twisted, manic sound. "Yes! I killed her! She deserved it. She had everything I ever wanted. Wealth, love, happiness. It was all supposed to be mine."

Frederick stared at her, his mind reeling. "You... you murdered her?"

"She was always the favorite," Margaret spat, her eyes wild with rage. "Always getting what she wanted while I was left with nothing. So I took it all from her. I took her life, and I would have taken Abby’s too if it meant getting what I deserved."

Frederick’s hands trembled as he held onto Margaret. "You’re mad," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You’ve gone completely mad."

Margaret’s expression suddenly changed, her eyes filling with tears. "She won’t leave me alone, Frederick. She’s everywhere. I see her in every shadow, hear her in every whisper."

"We need to get you help, Margaret," he said, his voice firm despite his fear. "You can’t go on like this."

"No!" Margaret screamed, pushing him away. "She’ll find me! She’ll never let me go!"

Frederick caught her hands, his grip tightening. "Margaret, listen to me. You’re not well. We need to get you to a doctor. Maybe they can help you."

Margaret’s sobs grew louder, her body wracked with despair. "It’s too late for me, Frederick. She’s already taken my mind. There’s no escaping her wrath."

Frederick lifted her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs despite her struggles. "We’ll find a way, Margaret. We’ll find a way to make this right."

As he carried her towards their room, Margaret’s eyes continued to dart around, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "She’s here, Frederick. She’s watching us."

Frederick glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing but the empty hallway. "There’s no one there, Margaret. It’s just us."

Margaret shook her head violently. "No, she’s here. She’ll never leave me. This is my punishment."

Frederick laid her gently on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her tear-streaked face. "Rest, Margaret. I’ll get you the help you need."

Margaret’s eyes flickered with a moment of clarity, a desperate plea shining through. "Save me, Frederick. Please, save me."

Frederick nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I will, Margaret. I promise."

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