Chapter 12: At the Edge of Madness

“Hey, Dad, pass the pasta bowl, please.”

Hannah’s voice rang through the room, light and familiar, echoing with warmth that felt almost too perfect.

“Here you go, sweetie,” their father replied, sliding the steaming ceramic bowl across the oak table. Steam curled upward in delicate threads, carrying the scent of butter and herbs.

“Thanks!” Hannah chirped, twirling her fork into the mound of noodles. The metallic clink of her fork hitting the rim was crisp and clear.

“Don’t forget the salad,” their mother said, pointing toward the glass bowl brimming with greens, tomatoes glistening under the amber light.

Hannah rolled her eyes, grabbing a token handful of lettuce and cucumbers, muttering something under her breath.

Across from her, Jagger sat beside his father. His mother and sister were smiling, their faces bathed in the soft golden glow of the chandelier above. The hum of the light mixed with the quiet clatter of utensils and the occasional burst of laughter. For a heartbeat, it felt like home.

Except it wasn’t.

He could feel it, the wrongness beneath the comfort. The air was too still, too staged. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, a trapped animal. His hands trembled against the table, every nerve on edge. One moment, he had been drowning in agony and blood, the next… he was here. Sitting with them. Laughing as if the last twelve hours of horror had never happened.

He wanted to believe it, wanted to let it be real. But beneath the warmth, something rotted.

The smiles on their faces, his father’s calm demeanor, his mother’s gentle smile only made it worse. It felt like being submerged in syrup, suffocating in sweetness. The laughter hurt his ears. He felt detached from his own body, like he was watching it all from behind glass.

“Son, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

His father leaned toward him, voice gentle, eyes filled with concern. But as the man’s hand brushed his forehead, Jagger froze.

’It’s all because of you. You let us die.’

The words didn’t come from his father’s mouth, but it was his voice that rang in out.

Jagger’s breath hitched. He jerked away from the touch, heart hammering so violently it drowned out thought.

“What did you say, dad?” Jagger’s voice was hoarse, unsteady, barely a whisper.

The air thickened. His skin prickled, heat blooming across his neck. His pulse quickened until it felt like his veins might burst. His father had a confused look on his face and his gaze shifted to his wife.

“Are you feeling alright, son?” his mother asked, setting her fork down, her voice lined with worry. ’You’re a disappointment. You couldn’t even protect your sister.’

This time it was his mother’s voice, but her lips didn’t move.

“Mom… why are you saying that?” His own words trembled, eyes wide with disbelief. “I was at deaths door protecting her.”

His mother’s brow furrowed.

“Brother, you look scared.” Hannah spoke, her voice too clear and sweet. ’You had one job and that was to protect me. And when that time came you couldn’t do it.’

It wasn’t right. It was their voices, but it’s all wrong.

Jagger’s breath grew ragged. “Stop…” he cupped his ears, trying to drown them out, but it did nothing. Their words echoed from inside his head, as if they were crawling out from his very own throat.

His father looked at him with such sadness. ’We don’t need you. We don’t want you.’

“Dad, please stop!” Jagger pleaded, his voice rising to a shout.

He wanted to stand, to run, but his body wouldn’t move.

’I had to kill a man to save you and here you sit thinking you did your best.’ His mother’s voice was cold.

The table seemed to stretch, faces warping at the edges. The light flickered, bleeding red across their skin. Hannah’s laughter faded to silence. When he looked at her, her expression had changed. The brightness in her eyes was gone. What stared back at him was cold, sharp, hateful.

“Weakling.”

“Coward.”

“In the end you had to be saved, and we had to die.”

The whispers grew louder, layered over each other, his family’s voices twisting into something monstrous. His vision blurred. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

“Stop it!” he shouted, his chair screeching as he lurched to his feet. His fists slammed down on the table with a crash that sent cutlery flying. Plates rattled, glass cracked, and steam rose like smoke from the spilled food.

But they didn’t move. They just stared hollow eyed at him.

’KILL.’

Then a command screamed at him.

’KILL THEM ALL.’

The world blinked.

He blinked.

And suddenly, blood was everywhere. His father’s eyes were wide in shock, his hands clutching his throat, a gaping hole where it had once been. Blood fountained, painting the walls, splattering the table.

Jagger’s body trembled. “No… no, no, no…”

’KILL!’

Another blink, his mother’s body lay slumped over her chair, her stomach torn open, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. His gaze shifted downwards to his hands, his fingers clutching a knife, covered in gore.

“No… no, don’t do this…” he croaked, but his own arm moved, fist smashing into her skull again and again. The sound was wet, meaty, rhythmic. The wall behind her bloomed red.

He was kneeling now, knuckles raw, bones grinding with every impact. The face beneath him was gone, unrecognizable, destroyed.

Hannah’s sob drew his gaze. She was crawling backward, her arm severed at the elbow, blood pooling beneath her as she dragged herself away.

“P-p-please…” she whispered. “J-Jagger… it’s me…”

Her voice cracked, trembling, small.

“Stop… please…”

Her blood painted the floor in desperate smears. Her hand reached for him, trembling, fingers slick with red.

’KILL HER!’

The voice roared through his head, splitting his thoughts apart.

His vision turned red. His body surged forward, muscles moving on their own.

“Run… Hannah!”

His mouth screamed, but it wasn’t his will. His eyes burned crimson. The monster within screamed louder.

He lunged.

Then…

darkness.

When light returned, it came as the soft drip of something wet hitting his face. He blinked, disoriented. The ceiling above him was cracked and stained, a faint red droplet splashing on his cheek. His body was trembling, sore, soaked in something warm.

“Ohhh, yes…”

He looked down.

A headless goblin body lay at his feet. Blood pooled around it in a black-red halo. The severed head rested in his hand, its lifeless bulging eyes staring blankly back.

A tear slid down his cheek. ’I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…’

His mind was hollow. The words echoed through emptiness.

“What are you sad about, Jagger?”

His own voice answered. But it wasn’t his.

His body moved without his command. His hand tossed the head aside as it rolled, eyes still open, until it struck the wall with a dull, wet, thud.

’W-what have I done?’ he whispered, his thoughts weak, fading.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” His voice purred. His lips curved into a grin not his own. “You did what had to be done.”

’No… this is not what had happened. I didn’t kill them. I didn’t.’

A low laugh escaped his throat, mocking, cruel.

“You did and you enjoyed it, Jagger. Don’t lie to yourself. I can feel it. We felt it.”

That was when everything went dark.

He was floating now weightless, suspended in a void without sound or air.

And then she appeared.

A woman drifted through the dark, her form outlined by dim light. Her face was hidden beneath a veil of shadow, but her presence filled the emptiness like a whisper across his skin.

Her hand brushed his cheek, soft and cold as silk.

“Oh, you poor thing…” she murmured, her voice tender, laced with poison. “You’ve suffered so much, haven’t you?”

Both her hands cupped his cheek, and her thumb traced the trail of his tear.

Jagger’s gaze drifted up, and he met her eyes. Crimson, ruby like, enchanting, and they glowed with power. He slowly nodded his head, leaning into her touch.

“You’ve suffered enough,” she whispered, as she leaned in close. So close he could see her full lips curve into a smile, and it was beautiful. “Just relax and I can make all the pain go away.”

She kissed him.

Jagger inhaled sharply, her scent flooding his nose, overwhelming, intoxicating. He could feel the warmth of her tongue, the caress of her lips, and a heat rushed through him.

[Corruption level: 45% … rising.]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep