Once, my paranoid love

In the midst of this turmoil, Anne’s maternal instincts kicked in. She had to protect her son, even from himself. With a trembling voice and tears welling up in her eyes, she pleaded, “Paul, please, you’re not thinking clearly. Elena is gone, and no one is hiding her from you. I love you, and I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Paul, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, seemed momentarily torn. His mother’s words had struck a chord, reminding him of the love and care she had always provided. But his obsession with Elena and his unyielding belief that she was being kept from him continued to grip his mind.

In that fraught moment, Anne made a fateful decision. She knew she couldn’t reveal the truth, but she couldn’t allow her son to descend further into madness either.

The air in the room crackled with tension as Paul refused to release his grip on Anne’s hand. His face was contorted with anger, and his eyes, red with fury, bore into his mother’s.

“Paul, let go of my hand!” Anne shouted, her voice quivering as she struggled to break free from her son’s iron grip. She couldn’t believe what her beloved son had become-a man consumed by obsession and rage.

But Paul was relentless. He demanded answers, his voice seething with anger and frustration. “Mom, for the last time, I’m asking you, where is she?” His grip tightened on her hand, and the veins on his forehead throbbed with tension.

Anne’s response was not what he expected. She met his furious gaze with a calm and stern demeanor. “Me?” she uttered, her voice unwavering despite the fear that still lingered within her. “Is it truly the case that I hid her? You scumbag, you didn’t see her when you raped her, did you? Where was your love for her, then? Paul, she only left because of you!”

Her words landed like a crushing blow, and Paul’s face turned ashen. The truth of his actions-the pain he had caused Elena-came crashing down on him with a force he couldn’t ignore. His anger had clouded his judgment, but now his mother’s words were piercing through the haze.

“Only you,” Anne continued, her voice filled with conviction. She had chosen to confront her son with the harsh reality of his actions, to hold a mirror up to his own cruelty and obsession. “Only you,” she repeated, emphasizing that the blame rested squarely on Paul’s shoulders.

The room fell silent, the weight of Anne’s revelation settling like a heavy shroud. Paul’s grip on his mother’s hand loosened, and his face contorted with a mix of guilt and despair. He had pushed the woman who loved him to her limit, and in doing so, he had exposed the darkest aspects of his own soul.

For Anne, the revelation had been a desperate gambit-an attempt to shock her son into facing the consequences of his actions. She loved him deeply, but she could no longer stand by and watch him descend further into madness.

Paul staggered back, his anger giving way to a profound sense of remorse. He had wronged Elena in the most heinous way, and it was a burden he would carry for the rest of his life.

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Paul’s anguished scream filled the room as he clutched his head, his fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. He was unraveling, the weight of his actions and the truth of his mother’s words crashing down upon him like a relentless storm.

The glass in his hand shattered as he flung it to the ground, the shards scattering in all directions. It was as if his rage and despair had taken physical form in that moment of destruction. The room bore witness to the chaos that raged within him.

Anne, though frightened by her son’s violent outburst, knew that she couldn’t abandon him now. She reached out and placed her trembling hand on his shoulder, a feeble attempt to offer solace in the midst of his turmoil. “Baby,” she said softly, her voice filled with concern and love.

But Paul’s anguish was not so easily quelled. His eyes, red and swollen from tears of frustration and self-loathing, locked onto his mother’s. His grip on her shoulder tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh.

“Let her go,” Anne urged, her voice taking on a pleading tone. She was referring to Elena-the woman Paul had harmed and whom he still sought obsessively. She understood that his desperate quest to find Elena was tearing him apart, and it was a plea for him to release the torment that bound him.

But Paul’s response was far from what Anne had hoped for. Instead of releasing his grip on her, he grabbed her throat once more, his fingers closing around her delicate skin. His face was contorted with a mixture of anguish and rage.

“Nooo!” he yelled, the word escaping his lips as a guttural cry of despair. The pain he felt, both emotional and physical, seemed unbearable. He was a man on the brink of self-destruction, and the darkness that had consumed him showed no signs of relenting.

Anne gasped for breath as Paul’s grip tightened. She could see the torment in his eyes, the inner struggle that threatened to consume him whole. Her own fear and helplessness mirrored his, but she knew that she couldn’t give in to despair.

Summoning every ounce of strength within her, Anne pleaded with her son once more. “Paul, please,” she rasped, her voice strained. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

Paul’s fingers tightened around his mother’s throat, and he stared at her with a wild, unseeing look in his eyes. His grip was relentless, a stranglehold that threatened to crush the life out of her.

“Pa-,” Anne stammered, her voice choked and weak as she struggled to break free from his clutches. Panic coursed through her veins, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as her vision blurred.

Paul’s mind was consumed by a maelstrom of emotions-anger, desperation, and an unyielding possessiveness that bordered on madness. He believed with unwavering certainty that Elena belonged to him, and he was willing to do whatever it took to reclaim her, even if it meant harming those who stood in his way.