The Ten - Part 7 Unhinged (Patreon)

Greg sat in his home office, absorbed in mundane emails about work, when he saw something out of the ordinary—an email from Amanda. His lips curled into a sly smile; Amanda was the black sheep of their extended family, and she was hosting a Halloween party. "Now this, I can't miss," he chuckled.

He clicked on the RSVP link, and it led him to a virtual platform where he could choose a costume. Multiple options floated across the screen, but his eyes settled on a police officer's uniform. With a smug grin, he said to himself, "A force for good; how ironic."

The costume arrived the day before the party, exquisitely detailed and of a quality much higher than he had expected. He was so excited that he tried it on immediately. As he looked in the mirror, admiring himself in the uniform, he felt a sudden shiver crawl up his spine.

The costume began to shift. The polished police badge started decaying, corroding into an old, rusted name tag that read "Inmate #22579." His dark blue pants frayed at the seams, becoming worn-out, moth-eaten trousers. His shiny boots turned into scuffed, dilapidated shoes. He tried to take it off, but it clung to his body like a second skin.

And then his body began changing. His once muscular form began to shrink and soften. His chest felt peculiarly tight before expanding into a pair of breasts. His facial features softened, and his beard vanished, leaving smooth skin in its place. He was no longer Greg, but a petite woman standing there, panic-stricken. A name popped into his head: Greta. He was Greta, an unstable asylum inmate.

"This can't be happening! What is this madness?!" he—now she—screamed, rushing downstairs where her family was gathered.

"You all have to listen! I'm not Greta! I'm Greg!" she exclaimed frantically, her voice shrill and cracking.

Her mother frowned deeply, concern filling her eyes. "Greta, dear, you've always been our daughter. Are you feeling alright? You're talking nonsense."

"You're gaslighting me! I'm Greg! I'm your son!" Greta practically shrieked, her eyes wild.

Her father intervened, "I think you're forgetting to take your meds again, Greta. You're not making any sense."

Greta's life turned into an unfathomable loop of torment. Every conversation with her family was a minefield of confusion and accusations. She would insist she was Greg, and they would look at her as if she were deeply disturbed.

"Stop gaslighting me!" she would scream at them daily, her voice tinged with hysteria. "I'm not crazy, you're making me this way!"

Her siblings, who had no memory of ever having a brother, began avoiding her. "Greta, you're acting really strange," her sister said one day, cautiously keeping her distance. "You're scaring the kids."

"I'm not the one who's strange! You all are! Living this lie! Pretending I'm someone I'm not!" Greta yelled, her eyes red from sleepless nights and endless crying.

Her life spiraled further into despair. The neighbors kept their children away from her, and the whispers grew louder every day. "That woman is unhinged," they'd say, casting furtive glances in her direction.

Every encounter with another human being became an agonizing experience. Each conversation seemed like a twisted, Kafkaesque interrogation. "Look, you've got to believe me," she'd say to cashiers, mailmen, anyone who would listen, her voice always rising in desperation. "I'm not who you think I am. They've turned me into this! I was Greg, and I—"

The response was universal—a shake of the head, a murmur of pity, a quickened step away from the crazy woman.

As the eve of Amanda's Halloween party arrived, Greta was a broken woman. She stood before the mirror in her room, her eyes hollow, her face etched with the pain of a thousand indignities. She whispered to her reflection, "I'm Greg. I know I am." But each whisper felt like a tightening noose around the reality she once knew.

"Nobody's gaslighting me," she mumbled in a shaky voice, realizing the horror of her existence. "I'm Greg....."

The clock struck midnight, and Greta sat alone in the darkness, her mind a tempest of despair and confusion. And as the seconds ticked away, a chilling thought gripped her—this was just the beginning, and Amanda's party hadn't even started yet.