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**Manon’s POV**
My parents always had a penchant for the bizarre, but I never imagined they’d sink this low. The day they joined *The Order of Enlightenment* felt like stepping into an alternate reality, one where reason was sacrificed at the altar of fanaticism. The cult’s promises of salvation, eternal wisdom, and transcendence appealed to the lost and the desperate. And perhaps that’s why they were drawn to it-maybe they needed to believe in something more than the dull routine of their lives. But to me, it was all a charade, a grotesque play where everyone wore a mask of serenity while something far more insidious brewed beneath.
The cult’s compound was an isolated fortress, hidden deep within a dense forest, far from the world I knew. The air here was suffocating, thick with incense and damp with decay. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the constant hum of chants that echoed through the halls made it feel like the walls themselves were whispering secrets, secrets I never wanted to uncover.
But nothing unnerved me more than Rody Lamoree, the cult’s so-called leader. I’d heard the name whispered in reverence, the awe in people’s voices as they spoke of him, as if he were a living saint. But when I first saw him, all I could feel was dread.
Rody was a towering figure, his presence commanding attention the moment he entered a room. His auburn hair fell in unruly waves around his face, and his eyes-a piercing green-seemed to see right through you. There was something in his gaze, a darkness that hinted at the violence hidden beneath his charming exterior. He moved with a predatory grace, his every step deliberate, calculated, as if he knew that everyone was watching him and he reveled in it. And they were. People bowed their heads as he passed, their eyes full of admiration and fear. It was as though they were in the presence of a god.
But I saw something else. Something rotten.
Rody was a predator who had found the perfect prey: desperate souls who needed to believe in something, anything, even if it meant giving up their very selves. And Rody thrived on that. He consumed their devotion, their fear, feeding on it like a leech, growing stronger as they grew weaker.
And then there was Vincent Charbonneau.
I didn’t know much about Vincent at first, only that he was young-just eighteen-and completely devoted to Rody. I’d seen him trailing behind Rody like a lost child, his eyes wide and full of something that made my skin crawl. He was small for his age, with jet-black hair that framed his pale face, and his dark eyes were always fixed on Rody, as if nothing else in the world existed. Vincent’s clothes hung off his frame, too large, as if they had once belonged to someone else. He was always clean, always neat, but there was something fragile about him, something broken.
It didn’t take long for the rumors to reach me. Everyone in the cult knew the story, but they spoke of it in hushed tones, with a sick kind of reverence. Vincent had been chosen by Rody when he was only fifteen. It was said that Rody had seen something special in him, something that made him stand out from the others. And so, Rody had claimed him, declared that Vincent was to be his future spouse, his *chosen one*. The idea of it made me sick. Vincent was just a child when Rody set his sights on him, and now, three years later, he was completely under Rody’s control.
The more I saw of them, the more disturbed I became. Vincent followed Rody everywhere, never more than a few steps behind. He would stand silently by Rody’s side during sermons, his eyes locked on Rody’s face, hanging on his every word. And when Rody spoke to him-when he acknowledged him-Vincent would light up, his entire demeanor changing as if Rody’s attention was the only thing that mattered. It was pathetic. But it was more than that-it was terrifying.
There was something deeply wrong with the way Vincent looked at Rody. It wasn’t just admiration or devotion; it was obsession. He was completely consumed by Rody, his entire existence centered around pleasing him, making him happy. And Rody knew it. He *thrived* on it.
One night, after one of the cult’s endless ceremonies, I found myself wandering the grounds, trying to escape the oppressive atmosphere. The ceremony had been the same as always-Rody standing at the altar, speaking of Enlightenment and Salvation while the others looked up at him with eyes full of worship. And there, as always, was Vincent, standing just behind Rody, his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him like a faithful disciple.
I needed air. I needed to get away from it all, even if just for a moment. The compound was vast, with winding paths that led deep into the surrounding woods. I walked without a destination, just wanting to put distance between myself and the madness inside. But as I rounded a corner, I saw something that made me stop dead in my tracks.
It was Rody and Vincent. They were standing in a secluded part of the garden, hidden from view of the main path. I ducked behind a tree, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched them.
“Vincent,” Rody’s voice was low, a mix of affection and authority. “Come here.”
Vincent stepped forward, his movements hesitant, like a child afraid of doing something wrong. Rody reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Vincent’s face. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but there was something behind it, something dark.
“You know how important you are to me, don’t you?” Rody’s voice was soft, coaxing, like he was speaking to a frightened animal. “You’re special, Vincent. You were chosen for a reason.”
“Yes, Rody,” Vincent whispered, his voice trembling. “I know.”
Rody smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It was possessive. “And you love me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me?”
Vincent nodded, his eyes filling with tears. “I love you, Rody. More than anything.”
“I know you do,” Rody murmured, his hand moving to cup Vincent’s cheek. “But you need to prove it to me, Vincent. You need to show me that you’re worthy of my love.”
Vincent’s eyes widened, fear flickering across his face. “I-how?”
Rody’s grip tightened just slightly, his fingers digging into Vincent’s skin. “You’ll do whatever I ask of you, won’t you? No matter what?”
There was a long pause, and for a moment, I thought Vincent might resist, might say something that would break the spell Rody had cast over him. But then Vincent nodded, his voice barely audible. “Yes, Rody. Anything.”
“Good.” Rody’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. He leaned down, his lips brushing against Vincent’s ear as he whispered something I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made Vincent tremble, his hands clutching at Rody’s shirt as if he were about to collapse.
“I’m sorry, Rody,” Vincent choked out, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’ll do better. I promise.”
Rody pulled back slightly, his expression softening. He wiped the tears from Vincent’s face with his thumb, his touch almost gentle. “I know you will, Vincent. You always do. But remember, you belong to me. No one else. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Rody,” Vincent whispered, his voice cracking. “I belong to you.”
“And you always will,” Rody said, his voice filled with a dark promise. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Vincent’s forehead. It was a tender gesture, but there was nothing tender about the way Rody’s hand gripped the back of Vincent’s neck, keeping him close, keeping him *trapped*.
Vincent’s eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, he looked at peace, like a child who had finally found comfort in the arms of a parent. But I knew better. This wasn’t comfort. This was control. Manipulation. Rody had twisted Vincent’s mind, made him believe that this was love, that this was all he was worth.
I turned away, bile rising in my throat as I stumbled back down the path. I couldn’t watch anymore. I couldn’t bear to see what would happen next. I knew, deep down, that there was nothing I could do to save Vincent. He was too far gone, too deeply entwined in Rody’s web.
But as I fled, the sound of their voices echoed in my ears, haunting me, reminding me that I was trapped too. Trapped in this twisted nightmare, where love and devotion were used as weapons, where innocence was corrupted, and where the line between salvation and damnation had long since been erased.
The further I ran, the more the forest seemed to close in on me, the branches clawing at my skin as if trying to drag me back to that awful place. But no matter how far I went, I couldn’t escape the images seared into my mind-Vincent’s tear-streaked face, the desperation in his eyes as he clung to Rody like he was the only thing keeping him from drowning. And Rody, with that sick, possessive smile, the look of a man who knew he had complete control over another person’s soul.
When I finally stopped running, my breath came in ragged gasps, and my legs trembled beneath me. I leaned against a tree, the rough bark digging into my back as I tried to steady myself. But the reality of what I’d witnessed wouldn’t leave me. It clung to me like a shroud, suffocating me.
How had it come to this? How had Vincent, a boy with his whole life ahead of him, become so ensnared in Rody’s grasp? The Vincent I saw was barely more than a shell, an echo of who he might have been before Rody got his claws into him. What had he been like at fifteen when Rody first took him under his wing? Was he shy, full of hopes and dreams, naive enough to believe that someone like Rody could offer him the world? Or had he always been broken, just waiting for someone like Rody to come along and finish the job?
I couldn’t stand the thought of it. I couldn’t stand the thought of Rody grooming this boy, twisting his mind until he believed that the only love worth having was Rody’s cruel and selfish version of it.
But what could I do? I was just a visitor, an outsider in this twisted place. No one would listen to me if I tried to raise the alarm. Hell, they might even see it as a betrayal, as a blasphemy against their beloved leader. I knew how deeply the cultists revered Rody, how they saw him as some kind of messiah. To them, he could do no wrong. If they knew how he treated Vincent, they would twist it into something holy, something justified.
And Vincent-poor, lost Vincent-would probably defend Rody with his dying breath.
I couldn’t leave him there. But I couldn’t stay, either. The cult was suffocating, the darkness within its walls closing in on me the longer I remained. The more I saw, the more I felt it corrupting me, dragging me down into its depths. And I was terrified that if I stayed too long, I’d lose myself just like Vincent had.
But how could I abandon him?
As I made my way back to the compound, I could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on me. My footsteps were slow, hesitant, as if some part of me was screaming to turn back, to run away and never look back. But I couldn’t. Even if it meant going back into that hell, I had to do something. I had to try to reach Vincent before it was too late.
When I entered the compound again, the dim lights cast long shadows across the floor, and the smell of incense filled my nostrils, making me feel nauseous. The halls were empty, everyone having retreated to their quarters for the night. I moved quickly, trying to avoid drawing attention to myself as I navigated the winding corridors. I didn’t know exactly where Vincent’s room was, but I had a general idea. I had seen him retreat down this way enough times to know the direction.
The air was heavy, oppressive, as I walked down the hall. Each step felt like I was wading through thick mud, the weight of my own fear pulling me down. But I kept moving, my mind focused on the single thought of getting Vincent out of here, of breaking Rody’s hold on him. I had no idea how to do that, but I knew I had to try.
Finally, I found the room. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the dark hallway. I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, before pushing the door open.
Vincent was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head bowed, hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looked small, even more fragile in the dim light of his room. His eyes were downcast, his expression vacant, as if all the life had been drained out of him.
“Vincent,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I stepped into the room. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. I moved closer, kneeling in front of him so I could look into his eyes. “Vincent, please. You have to listen to me.”
For a moment, there was no response. His eyes remained unfocused, staring blankly at the floor. But then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet mine. There was a flicker of recognition, of awareness, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by that same vacant expression.
“You don’t belong here,” I said, my voice soft but urgent. “This place-it’s not right. Rody-he’s not what you think he is.”
Vincent blinked, a hint of confusion crossing his face. “Rody loves me,” he said quietly, as if reciting a fact he had been told a thousand times. “He takes care of me. He chose me.”
I felt my heart break at those words, at the way Vincent spoke them with such conviction, as if they were the only truths he had left. “No, Vincent. He doesn’t love you. He’s manipulating you. He’s using you.”
Vincent’s eyes filled with tears, his hands trembling as he gripped his knees. “No. You don’t understand. Rody saved me. He-he makes me feel-“
“Trapped?” I interjected gently, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “Vincent, you’re not free here. You’re a prisoner.”
Vincent flinched at my touch, pulling away as if I had burned him. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice full of anguish. “You’re wrong. Rody-he’s the only one who cares about me. The only one who understands me.”
“No, Vincent,” I said, my voice firm but compassionate. “Rody has twisted your mind, made you believe that you need him. But you don’t. You can leave. You can be free.”
Vincent shook his head violently, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t leave him. He’ll never let me go.”
The despair in his voice cut through me like a knife, and I felt tears welling up in my own eyes. “Vincent, I know you’re scared. But you’re stronger than you think. You can get away from him. I can help you. We can leave together, right now.”
For a moment, I thought he might listen, that he might reach out and take my hand. But then, the door creaked open behind me, and a chill ran down my spine.
Rody stood in the doorway, his eyes cold and calculating as they locked onto mine. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way he looked at me that sent a wave of fear through my entire body. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even surprised. It was as if he had expected this, as if he had been waiting for it.
“Manon,” Rody said calmly, his voice smooth and unthreatening. “What are you doing here?”
I rose to my feet, my body trembling as I faced him. “I was just-“
“Talking to Vincent?” Rody finished for me, stepping further into the room, his presence dominating the space. “I’m sure you meant well, but you must understand-Vincent belongs to me. He has for a long time.”
There was no warmth in his words, no trace of the affection he had shown Vincent earlier. This was the real Rody, the one who used people, who twisted them into something unrecognizable and called it love.
“He’s not yours,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re manipulating him, Rody. He’s just a kid.”
Rody’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a small, humorless smile. “Vincent is mine,” he repeated, his tone final. “And I suggest you stay out of this, Manon. You don’t understand the bond we share. You never could.”
I felt the weight of his words pressing down on me, the finality of them. This was a man who would do anything to keep what he believed was his. And I realized, with a sinking feeling, that there was nothing I could do to change that.
Vincent stood up, his movements slow, mechanical, like a puppet on strings. He moved to stand beside Rody, his head bowed, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry, Rody,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “I won’t let it happen again.”
Rody placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, a gesture that should have been comforting but was anything but. “I know you won’t, Vincent. I forgive you.”
The sight of it made me sick, but I knew then that I had lost. Vincent was too far gone, too deeply entangled in Rody’s web. There was no saving him.
I turned to leave, my heart heavy with defeat, but Rody’s voice stopped me.
“Manon,” he called after me, his tone still calm, almost gentle. “I suggest you leave the compound in the morning. It’s for the best.”
The unspoken threat in Rody’s words was clear, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel his gaze burning into my back as I left the room, every instinct screaming at me to get as far away from this place as possible. I barely made it to my quarters before my legs gave out, collapsing onto the cold floor as the weight of what I’d witnessed crashed down on me.
I couldn’t stay here. I had to leave. But the thought of leaving Vincent behind gnawed at me, the idea of him trapped in Rody’s clutches, with no one to pull him out, twisted my gut. But I knew deep down that I wasn’t strong enough to fight this. Rody was right-I didn’t understand the bond they shared, the twisted, poisonous relationship that had festered over the years. I didn’t know how to break the spell Rody had cast over Vincent, how to unravel the years of manipulation and control.
But someone had to know. Someone had to care. The police, the authorities, anyone who could help-they had to believe me. They had to do something. Because if they didn’t, I didn’t know what would happen to Vincent.
The night passed in a blur, my mind racing as I packed my things, every sound in the silent compound making me jump. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rody was watching me, that he knew exactly what I was planning. But he didn’t stop me. No one did. It was as if they had all accepted what was happening, as if they had all resigned themselves to Rody’s twisted version of reality.
When dawn broke, I made my way to the entrance of the compound, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The early morning air was crisp and cool, the world outside the compound quiet and still. It felt like I was stepping into another world, one that was far removed from the horrors I had witnessed within those walls.
I didn’t look back as I walked down the path, didn’t allow myself to think about what I was leaving behind. I had to focus on getting help, on finding someone who could save Vincent. Because I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I didn’t, Rody would destroy him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. And Vincent would let him. He would go willingly, believing it was love, believing it was the only way.
I drove for hours, the compound receding into the distance as I made my way back to the city. The normalcy of it all was jarring, the cars and people going about their lives, completely unaware of the darkness that lurked in that isolated place. It felt like I had been living in a nightmare, one that I couldn’t wake up from.
I didn’t know where to start. The police station seemed like the logical choice, but as I pulled into the parking lot, I hesitated. How would I explain what I had seen? How would I make them believe me? It sounded insane-a cult in the middle of nowhere, a young boy being groomed and controlled by a charismatic leader. They would think I was crazy. They would think I was the one who needed help.
But I had to try. For Vincent.
The station was quiet when I walked in, the receptionist giving me a tired smile as I approached the desk. I must have looked like a mess, my clothes wrinkled, my hair disheveled from the restless night. But I didn’t care. I just needed someone to listen.
“I need to report something,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “It’s…it’s about a cult. A man named Rody. He’s hurting people, manipulating them.”
The receptionist’s smile faltered, her brow furrowing in concern. “A cult? Where?”
I explained everything as best I could, my words tumbling out in a rush as I tried to convey the urgency of the situation. I told her about Rody, about Vincent, about the control he had over the boy, the way he had twisted his mind. I didn’t leave anything out, even though I knew how it sounded-crazy, unbelievable. But the receptionist listened, her expression growing more serious as I continued.
“I’ll get an officer to talk to you,” she said finally, picking up the phone and speaking quietly into it. “Just take a seat, okay? Someone will be with you shortly.”
I nodded, sinking into one of the chairs in the waiting area, my hands trembling as I clasped them in my lap. It felt like hours passed before a young officer approached me, his expression unreadable as he gestured for me to follow him into a small interview room. He asked me to repeat everything, taking notes as I spoke, his face remaining impassive.
When I finished, he looked up from his notes, his gaze steady. “This is a serious accusation,” he said slowly. “But it’s not the first time we’ve heard something like this about that compound.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You’ve heard about them before?”
He nodded, his expression grim. “There have been reports over the years. People coming forward with similar stories, but nothing concrete enough to act on. We’ve investigated, but the compound is tight-knit. They cover for each other. No one ever talks.”
My stomach twisted. So it wasn’t just me. Others had tried to expose the truth, but nothing had come of it. “But Vincent-he’s just a kid. You have to do something.”
“We will,” the officer assured me, his tone firm. “We’ll look into it. But you have to understand-it’s not easy to take down a group like this. They’re careful. And without solid evidence…”
His words trailed off, and I felt a wave of despair wash over me. What if they couldn’t do anything? What if Rody continued to twist Vincent’s mind, continued to destroy him bit by bit?
I left the station with a heavy heart, my mind swirling with doubt and fear. I had done what I could, but it didn’t feel like enough. It felt like I was leaving Vincent to his fate, abandoning him to the darkness that had consumed him.
Days passed, and I heard nothing. No updates, no news, just silence. The longer it stretched on, the more I felt the weight of my decision pressing down on me. I had escaped, but at what cost? Every night, I lay awake, haunted by the image of Vincent’s hollow eyes, by the sound of Rody’s voice in the dark.
And then, one morning, the phone rang.
It was the officer from the station. His voice was tight, controlled, as he told me what had happened. There had been a fire at the compound. The building had been destroyed, reduced to ashes in the middle of the night. The cause was unknown, but they suspected arson.
There were no survivors. Rody, Vincent, the other cult members-gone, lost to the flames.
As I listened to the officer’s words, a strange numbness settled over me. I should have felt relief, knowing that Rody could never hurt anyone again, that Vincent was free from his grasp. But all I felt was emptiness. There had been no justice, no closure. Just a senseless, tragic end.
I hung up the phone, my hands shaking, and stared out the window at the city beyond. Life went on, indifferent to the horrors that had unfolded in that isolated compound. The world kept turning, oblivious to the lives lost, the souls consumed by darkness.
And I was left with the knowledge that, despite everything, I had failed. I had escaped, but Vincent hadn’t. He had been consumed, body and soul, by the man who claimed to love him.
And now, there was nothing left of either of them.
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