ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 197: Shadow
Chapter 197
KATYA POV
The door clicked softly behind Nonna as she left, her footsteps fading down the corridor. "Don’t stay too long," she had said, wagging a finger at me like I was still a child sneaking sweets before dinner.
"And don’t fall asleep in here. Your neck will hurt."
"I won’t," I’d promised, even though we both knew there was a good chance I would. Now the cinema room belonged to me.
I sank deeper into the wide leather couch, tucking my legs beneath me, the blanket Nonna had insisted on draping over my lap still warm from her hands.
I felt... comfortable.
The lights were dimmed low, just enough to glow along the walls and ceiling, soft gold against dark panels.
The screen stretched out in front of me, the movie still playing, the sound low but clear. No voices from the rest of the house. No tension hanging in the air. Just quiet.
I let out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Being alone like this felt like a gift. A rare one.
No eyes on me. No rules being spoken or implied. No reminders of where I was or who owned the space I occupied.
Just me, a blanket, and a movie that had already pulled me in more than I expected. I smiled faintly, adjusting my position as the characters on screen laughed their way through another awkward moment.
I hugged the blanket closer, feeling a little silly for how invested I was. It was strange how easily I could forget everything else when I was watching something like this.
How my mind softened, drifted. How the walls of the house didn’t feel so close. I was grateful for this room. For Nonna, for not insisting I come upstairs with her.
For trusting me enough to leave me here on my own. I glanced around the empty space once more, making sure—really sure—I was alone.
Then I turned my attention back to the screen, letting myself relax fully, sinking into the story, into the quiet, into a moment that felt almost... normal.
Just for tonight.
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The credits began to roll, white letters drifting slowly over a soft instrumental song. I blinked, my eyes burning slightly, and realized how heavy my eyelids had become.
At some point, my head had tilted to the side, cheek pressed into the cushion, the blanket pooled around me like I’d melted into the couch.
Great.
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and yawned, jaw cracking slightly. Sleep was creeping up on me whether I invited it or not, wrapping around my thoughts, making everything slow and fuzzy.
"I really need to go back to my room," I murmured to myself.
If I didn’t, I knew exactly how this would go.
Nonna would find me in the morning, still curled up here, blanket tangled, neck stiff—and she’d give me that look. The one that said I told you so without using the words.
I sighed softly and pushed the blanket off my legs. My body protested as I sat up, the room tilting just a little before settling again. I stayed still for a moment, letting the dizziness pass, then swung my feet down to the floor.
I smiled tiredly, standing and stretching my arms over my head. The cinema room felt even bigger now that the movie was over—too quiet, too still, like it was gently nudging me out.
I reached for the remote and turned the screen off. The room dimmed further, the soft wall lights the only thing keeping the darkness from swallowing everything whole.
As I gathered the blanket, folding it the way Nonna liked—neat, careful—I felt that familiar mix of comfort and unease settle in my chest.
Tonight had been nice. Too nice. I glanced once more at the empty room, then headed for the door, moving quietly down the hallway.
Each step felt heavier than the last, sleep tugging at me insistently. Just make it to the bed, Katya, I told myself.
Just make it upstairs. I reached the elevator and reached the top floor in a blur.
The elevator doors slid open, spilling me into the quiet of the top floor. Everything looked the same as always—polished floors, framed art, closed doors that all looked identical when you were this tired.
I stepped out and thudded halfway down the hall. Something shifted at the edge of my vision and I slowed.
It wasn’t clear enough to be anything definite—just a darker patch near the corner where the corridor bent, a shape that might’ve been a trick of the light or my own shadow stretching wrong.
I stopped completely, my heart giving a small, stupid jump.
...Really, Katya?
I squinted, forcing my eyes to focus. The hallway was still. Silent. Empty.
The shadow didn’t move. I let out a quiet breath through my nose, shaking my head at myself. I was exhausted.
That was all. Too much screen time, too little sleep, my brain filling in gaps that weren’t there. "Get a grip," I whispered under my breath.
Nonna had warned me not to stay up late. This was exactly what she meant—imagining things like a child afraid of the dark.
I took another step forward, then another, my footsteps barely making a sound.The shape didn’t change.
Because there was nothing there.
I told myself that firmly as I walked past the corner, not looking too closely, not giving my mind space to spiral.
My room was just a little farther down. I could already picture it—the bed, the familiar smell, the safety of closing the door behind me.
I kept walking. Still, without meaning to, my pace quickened just a little. I reached my door with a quiet sense of relief, my fingers already fishing for the handle.
Just a few more seconds.
I stepped inside, the familiar darkness of my room wrapping around me like a promise of sleep.
The door began to swing shut behind me, the latch just about to click—
Something moved.
I didn’t have time to turn.
A sharp, heavy impact struck the side of my bandaged head. There was no pain at first just shock, a loud rushing sound in my ears, like the world had been yanked underwater.
My vision burst into white.
I stumbled forward, my grip slipping from the door as my knees buckled. The floor rushed up too fast, the room tilting violently as my thoughts scattered, unable to hold onto anything solid.
What—?
The question never finished forming.
††
Happy new year
