Jack held the phone to his ear like that for a long time, listening to the silence.

He was all so suddenly reminded of how alone he was—how lonely he was. The latter hurt more. He felt it even when he wasn’t alone. He could be in a crowd of thousands and still feel that deep ache. The feeling overtook him, swallowing him in a cold embrace that constricted his throat. He couldn’t cry out in his moment of pain. He was utterly alone, and no one was coming. It would choke him until he begged, but even then, it would not let up. That was its plan. It had it all scripted—he was a helpless cast member.

No one could help him.

How pathetic.

The weight of truth came down on Jack, and he growled deeply, pressing his lips together. It was an animalistic cry from the core of his being. It came from the deep need to break free. It was the desire to do as he pleased. It gave him inspiration, energy. He wanted to act.

And he did.

The decision was made, Jack got up abruptly from the bed and headed to his desk, finding his way into the dark room illuminated only by streaks of light from outside the blinds.

He felt for the lamp and switched it on.

When he had his word processor open before him, he took a deep breath, his fingers poised over the keyboard.

"I will write what I want," Jack said to himself. "Something deep... Something I am feeling in this moment. And it will be beautiful."

He let out a pensive breath and began to type.

When David first experienced pain, he was not a child falling off a bike. No… not that. He was an adult crying from the pain of loss after riding to his girlfriend's house and finding her with someone else. He learned the hard way that life can cause a burning in the chest that won't leave, no matter how much medication is taken.

Jack's fingers stopped over the keys as he read all he had written.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

It made sense. It would all be reworked when he was done, but it was looking like a good first attempt since all this madness began.

He was doing it!

His joy knew no bounds, and he was fired up to go on until he had some semblance of a good story before him.

Taking in another breath, he wiggled his fingers over the keyboard and began again.

But David dreamt of fucking her every night. His dick throbbed for her still. He imagined her warm pussy pulsing around him…

"What the hell!" Jack stared at the screen in horror, his fingers continuing to type without his consent. It took more than a second and all of his willpower to stop himself from continuing. The second paragraph on the screen was the same smut that he had written in his previous books, and he wanted to run away from it. But there it was again. "No, no, no," he muttered, pushing back from the table and rubbing his eyes. "It can't be. It was going so well. I had written an entire paragraph!"

But when he removed his hands, it was still there. "Nooooo!" Jack bellowed, hearing the hisses of sinister laughter in the air around him. It was utterly hopeless. Their power over him was too much. "You can't do this!" he cried into the bristling cacophony surging around him.

Laughter rang in his ears, and a voice hissed to him. "Look at your sorry attempt at a breakout," it said. "Come on... Look!" The last order screamed, causing his heart to skip a beat. Trembling, Jack turned his chair until he was face to face with the glowing screen.

His eyes focused just in time to catch the last word of his first paragraph being erased, the cursor moving backward, letter by letter. It was all gone, his first successful attempt at a different path. He sat frozen, unblinking, staring at the screen in disbelief.

The laughter cackled on, and Jack knew what it all meant. "That is what you remain, Jack. It is what you will be remembered for long after you are gone." He tried to blink back tears, but they wouldn't come. He sobbed as the blinking cursor stared at him from the screen, laughing at him.

A voice, cold and mocking, echoed in his mind. "Why this, you ask? You chose it yourself, Jack. I only need to degrade you. Your own mind informed me that taking advantage of these ladies and then writing this would violate your integrity to the degree needed to own you."

Jack shuddered at the revelation. The voice continued, merciless in its assault. "Don't you see? Your corruption, your willingness to exploit others for your art - that's what binds you to me. It's not just the act of writing, it's the betrayal of your own principles. That's the true chains I've wrapped around your soul."

He sat there, the weight of his choices crushing down on him. The cursor blinked on the screen, a constant reminder of his entrapment, as the laughter of unseen entities filled the room.