Chapter 451

The first time she saw the scissors, she didn't think much of it. They lay in the corner of an old, dusty store. There was nothing unusual about them. Just a pair of silver scissors, resting on a wooden counter.

Blades sharp, handles smooth, the kind of thing you would find anywhere. But something about them caught her eye. Not because they were special—no, that wasn't it. It was more the way they looked, almost... inviting.

Lily stood there for a moment, just staring at them. She felt an urge, a strange pull, like the scissors were calling to her. The store itself was oddly quiet, the shelves packed with yellowed books and knick-knacks that seemed to have seen better days.

The storekeeper, an old woman with weathered skin and a face that looked like it had forgotten how to smile, stood behind the counter, her gaze fixed on Lily, but she said nothing.

Lily hesitated but then walked toward the counter. The scissors felt cold in her hand when she picked them up. A chill ran up her spine. She could feel something shift in the air. She wasn't sure what it was—just a vague sense of wrongness. The woman hadn't taken her eyes off her, not even for a second. It made Lily uncomfortable, but she couldn't stop herself.

"I'll take these," Lily said, her voice quiet but sure.

The woman didn't respond immediately. She simply nodded, her hand outstretched to take the money, but before Lily could pay, the old woman's voice stopped her.

"Be careful with those," she said in a low, rasping voice. "They're not like other scissors. They have a way of... changing things."

Lily blinked. She couldn't quite tell if the woman was serious or just eccentric.

"What do you mean?" she asked, but the old woman only looked at her with those dark eyes, saying nothing more.

After a long pause, Lily shrugged. She paid for the scissors and left the store, the door creaking shut behind her. The night air was cool, and the city streets were empty, bathed in the glow of streetlights. She tucked the scissors into her bag, thinking nothing more of them.

It wasn't until two weeks later that she understood.

At first, it was just a feeling. A sensation of restlessness. She couldn't shake the unease gnawing at the back of her mind. She hadn't used the scissors, not once, but they seemed to have a presence all their own.

They felt... heavy. Unsettling. Sometimes, when she reached for something else in her bag, her fingers would brush the cold metal of the blades, and it would send a strange shiver down her spine.

And then it happened.

She was walking home late at night when she saw him. Jake. He was standing at the corner of the street, his eyes following her with that familiar, predatory glint.

He'd always been like that—sarcastic, cruel, one of the guys who had enjoyed making her feel small back in high school. She had never liked him, but tonight, there was something different in the way he looked at her. Something more dangerous.

Lily's pulse quickened, a mixture of fear and anger rising within her. She could feel the scissors pressing against the side of her body, their weight pulling her toward them. The urge to confront Jake was overwhelming. Without thinking, her hand slipped into her bag, and she grasped the scissors.

It was all a blur.

Jake started walking toward her, his grin widening as he noticed her approaching. He opened his mouth, probably to say something else that would make her skin crawl, but Lily didn't let him speak.

Her hand moved faster than her mind could process, and the scissors were in her grip before she realized it. She didn't even see the motion. The blades snapped open and closed like they had been made for it.

Jake's face twisted in shock, his body staggering back, but it was too late. Blood sprayed in a fine mist, staining the street as he crumpled to the ground. His mouth opened in a silent scream, but there was no sound.

Lily stood frozen, staring at the body. The scissors still felt warm in her hand, the cold metal slick with his blood. She didn't understand what had just happened. She hadn't even meant to do it. The action had been reflexive, instinctive.

But it felt... right.

The scissors hummed softly, like a whisper in her ear, urging her to keep going.

The next few days were a blur. The adrenaline of what she'd done still buzzed under her skin. She found herself unable to stop thinking about the scissors. Every time her mind wandered, it returned to them.

She'd even taken to carrying them around with her, as if they were some kind of shield. Something to protect her from the world, from everything that had ever made her feel weak.

It didn't take long before the desire grew. The scissors were more than just a tool—they were power, and power was something Lily had always craved. The more she used them, the stronger the urge to keep cutting grew.

At first, it was small things. Minor annoyances. People who got too close. People who said the wrong thing. It didn't matter. The scissors were a fix. A clean break.

But the more she used them, the harder it became to stop.

It wasn't long before she was cutting people out of her life. They were all part of the world she didn't want to live in anymore. All of them were weak in some way, flawed in ways she couldn't tolerate. The scissors made everything simple. They made everything clean.

The first time she met Adam, she didn't even notice him. She had been too consumed by the darkness in her mind to pay attention. He was standing at the bar, a quiet presence in the corner, sipping a drink and watching her. He didn't make a move. Didn't try to get her attention.

But he did something no one else had ever done. He looked at her. Really looked at her.

It made her uncomfortable. She couldn't place why. The scissors, which had felt so familiar in her grip, now felt like a foreign object.

She met his gaze, her heart pounding, but for the first time in what felt like years, she didn't want to use them. Not on him. Not on someone who saw her, someone who saw the truth beneath her mask.

Adam smiled gently, and Lily felt something stir inside her. Something real.

They spent hours talking. About life, about what had brought them to that moment. About everything. For the first time in so long, Lily felt... understood.

And then, when he kissed her, she wanted to believe that it was real. That this wasn't some twisted game the scissors were playing with her. She felt the warmth of his lips on hers, the softness, the tenderness. It was everything she had longed for, something she hadn't even known she needed.

But then, she felt it.

The scissors were there. Cold. The blades whispered in her hand.

Lily pulled back, her heart racing, her mind a blur. Adam's face was filled with confusion. He reached for her, but she couldn't let him touch her. The scissors were in her hand again, and she couldn't stop herself.

She brought them up.

It was quick. Too quick. The motion was automatic, a reflex. There was a sound—a wet, sickening sound—and then Adam was on the ground, blood pooling around him.

Lily stared at him, her chest heaving as her mind struggled to process what had just happened. The scissors were still in her hand, covered in his blood.

But it wasn't just the blood. It was the weight of the scissors. The way they seemed to pulse in her grip. She felt it deep in her bones now. The scissors had their own will. Their own power. And they weren't finished with her.

With a scream, she dropped them, stumbling backward, trying to tear herself away from what had just happened. But it was too late. The scissors had already claimed her.

From that moment on, there was no escape. No more hesitation. No more doubt. She wasn't in control anymore. She had been swallowed whole by the darkness.

The scissors were always there. Always pulling her forward. Every time she thought she could resist, every time she thought she could leave them behind, they called to her.

And she listened.

Her hands shook, her pulse racing, but she could do nothing. The scissors were hers.

And she was theirs.