I watched him from across the street.
I wasn't hiding. I didn't need to.
People only notice danger when it announces itself...when it burns, bleeds, screams. Quiet things disappear every day without anyone mourning them.
That blindness is a privilege.
He lived carefully. Like someone terrified of leaving evidence that he had ever existed. Temporary jobs. Rented rooms that asked no questions. A life built to be folded and carried away at a moment's notice.
Good.
That made him easy to shape.
I learned his routine the way a musician learns rhythm.
The café in the morning.
The archive in the afternoon.
The alley he took when it rained.
And always...always...the strays...sometimes dogs, sometimes cats...
He would crouch down to their level, smile softly, touch them like the world had never taught him fear. Like cruelty was something he had read about, not lived through.
That smile twisted something deep in my chest.
He had never smiled at me like that.
One afternoon, he was playing with a cat...mangy, thin, one ear torn. It rubbed against his ankle as if it trusted him completely. He laughed, quiet and unguarded.
Happy.
The word tasted wrong.
Why did that creature deserve that smile?
I had fed him.
Cleaned him.
Held him upright when his body failed him.
I had saved him.
And yet he smiled for something that would forget him by morning.
That was when my anger sharpened into purpose.
Not wild.
Not reckless.
Focused.
I didn't want him dead.
I wanted him dependent.
Then I found it.
A deliriant hallucinogen...Hyoscine.
The drug itself wasn't remarkable.
That was the brilliance of it.
It didn't create hallucinations from nothing. It didn't invent monsters or false worlds. It simply loosened the mind's grip on reality. Made thoughts slip. Made fear louder. Made suggestion feel like truth.
Most people used it incorrectly.
Too much. Too fast.
They drowned the mind instead of guiding it.
I knew better.
You don't flood the brain.
You teach it.
A small dose.
Then time.
Then another.
Let the mind do the work on its own. Let it connect unrelated moments. Let coincidence grow teeth. Let the victim believe the visions are coming from inside them.
He was already perfect.
Anxious.
Sensitive.
Always scanning the world for danger.
All I had to do was push...gently.
At first, it would be subtle. Confusion. Time slipping sideways. A sense that something terrible was approaching, without knowing what.
Then patterns would emerge.
He would see flashes...images without meaning. Later, he would hear about similar events. News stories. Rumors. Bodies found.
Coincidence.
Or so he would tell himself.
Then guilt would bloom.
What if I could have stopped it?
And after guilt...responsibility.
If I can see it, doesn't that make it my burden?
People don't need safety.
They need meaning.
Give someone meaning, and they will endure terror willingly.
I would make him believe he was special.
Not normal.
Not ordinary.
Cursed, if he needed that word...but chosen.
He would stop trusting his own thoughts.
Stop trusting anyone who doubted him.
Stop trusting anyone but me.
All I had to do was slip the drug into his life...and plant memories. Small ones. Harmless ones. Words overheard. Images glimpsed. Moments that meant nothing at first.
Later, when the visions came, his mind would complete them on its own.
In coincidences.
In ordinary days.
In life's smallest details.
The irony almost made me laugh.
Of course, the plan wasn't flawless.
Sometimes the drug faded too quickly. Sometimes the visions blurred or overlapped. Too much fear could shut his mind down entirely. Too little, and the effect weakened.
It would take time.
Adjustment.
Mistakes.
But I had patience.
I had already waited long enough for him.
I could wait a little longer to break him properly.
Across the street, he stood, brushed cat hair from his coat, and walked away...never once looking in my direction.
That was fine.
Soon, he wouldn't be able to look anywhere else.
Soon, every shadow would feel like me.
Soon, every vision would lead him back to me.
I didn't need him to love me yet.
Love comes last.
First comes dependence.
And I have always been very good at building cages that feel like safety.