Because every time they make you tremble, it reminds them of how empty they really are. Their intuition is sharp. They can smell fear like wolves smell blood. They know when you are about to crack, when your voice is about to break, when your eyes are about to well with tears. They love it. They love leading you to the edge, watching you teeter, and then giving you the final push, because in that moment, they feel god-like; they feel invincible watching you shiver in the corner, trapped and helpless.
Believe it or not, this is their addiction, and they will create that terror again and again. They will design your life to be a maze of fear. They will build it with words, with their silences, with their eyes. They will craft scenarios where you can’t win, where you can’t escape. They will gaslight you, manipulate you, break you down until fear becomes your home—until you can’t breathe without thinking about them, until your entire existence is shaped by avoiding their rage, their cruelty, their punishment.
I’m speaking from experience. And when they see you like that, hunched in the corner, sweating and silent, that is when they feel alive. And that’s the reason I call them evil. You become less than human to them; you are just an echo of their power, a reflection of their control.
And that’s why they love your fear, because your fear means they have won. It means their false self is real. It means they own you. But the truth is, they do not want you to know any of this. Fear is a lie. Fear is a tool, and once you see that, they lose their grip.
The moment you stop feeding them your fear—by stepping back, by refusing to tremble and freeze—they lose their power. How do I know this? Well, that’s exactly what I did towards the end of my relationship with my father. When I stood up, I saw him trembling like a mouse cornered in a room he could not escape.
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