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Devotion and Duty
Sick is a haunting psychological horror that follows a marriage unraveling into madness as devotion, illness, and manipulation, and blurs into a claustrophobic battle for control and belonging. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
This story was born from a nightmare. I dreamt I was a woman whose life was decaying around her as she cared for her sickly husband. By the end of the dream, she discovered the man she loved and trusted was far more ill than she could imagine. Her disorientation and fear pulled at me, and I knew I had to write the story.
How did you balance the ambiguity of John’s illness so the reader constantly questions what’s real and what’s manipulation?
I wanted to put people inside Susan’s mind, in the perspective of your typical person who feels the duty to care for their loved ones, no matter what is required. She has let her husband’s illness take over her life, so much so that she no longer has one. Of course, caregivers think, this person is sick, they need me. But what is the cost to yourself? When does devotion and duty become co-dependency? You can only be manipulated if you allow people to do so. How much of it is your own fault?
The book relies heavily on atmosphere and sensory detail rather than overt scares. How do you approach building tension through subtlety rather than shock?
I think the dark, quiet desires, motivations, and needs of our inner selves are more terrifying than your typical monsters, serial killers, or jump scares. It’s the realization that the frame you put around your life story to keep you safe could be a lie, and that you have been preyed upon by those you love and trust. It’s being slowly bled dry and not knowing until it’s too late. Worst of all is realizing you had a hand in your own demise.
What do you hope readers take away about love, neediness, and the moral gray zones that exist inside unhealthy relationships?
I hope readers will think more deeply about what they’re giving and taking in relationships, to be aware when someone is manipulating and using them, and where they themselves might be abusing a person in their life in a mental or emotional way.
Most victims can’t conceive that someone who claims to love them is silently exploiting them for their own gain. Likewise, abusers often don’t know that what they are doing is toxic. These are survival mechanisms they learned as children.
That is why I showed both Susan’s and John’s sides of the story. Neither of them is innocent.
Unfortunately, once confronted, not all abusers will acknowledge to themselves, much less to others, that they were damaging the people around them. It takes a brave person, a genuinely good-hearted and self-aware person, to be willing to admit their flaws and work to change them. Most narcissists and psychopaths do not have any empathy for others, nor true self-awareness that extends beyond their own self-importance.
I hope this story will wake up victims to possible abuse and tip off abusers that maybe they are the villain, and not the hero, of their own story.
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Charming and enigmatic, but very sick.
Born into wealth and prestige, John lost his family’s fortune to the mysterious illness that has now left him bedridden, and Susan’s life revolves around his care.
Years of devotion have left her exhausted and frustrated, yet she’s determined to scrape together whatever resources she can to keep John comfortable and happy—including stealing Demerol from the doctor’s office where she works to feed his growing dependence on painkillers.
As John’s condition continues to baffle doctors, Susan uncovers a secret from his childhood and the chilling cause of his illness.
Now that she knows the truth, can she put an end to the madness?
Christa Wojciechowski delivers a twisted psychological suspense novel for readers who like their fiction sick, sharp, and unforgettable.
Sick
Sick is a deeply unsettling psychological horror novel that follows the toxic, codependent relationship between Susan and her chronically ill husband, John. What begins as a tale of dutiful care gradually descends into something far more sinister. The book explores themes of love, martyrdom, manipulation, and the blurry line between devotion and delusion. At the center is a marriage teetering on the edge of madness, where illness, real or imagined, becomes both the glue and the weapon that binds them.
It wasn’t just the disturbing imagery or the suffocating atmosphere, it was how intimate it all felt. I was drawn in by the clean, evocative prose and the slow, relentless build-up of dread. Author Christa Wojciechowski doesn’t rely on cheap scares. Instead, she weaponizes empathy, using Susan’s exhaustion and desperation like a knife twisting in your gut. Anyone who’s ever been trapped in a one-sided relationship or felt obligated to care for someone while losing themselves will feel that sting.
John is infuriating. He is charming, pathetic, childlike, and monstrous all at once. I found myself swaying between pity and revulsion. And Susan is no angel either. Her love feels noble one minute and complicit the next. Wojciechowski manages to make the reader complicit, too. I kept asking myself why I felt sorry for someone who was clearly manipulating the woman who loved him. But then I’d see his suffering again, and it would all blur. That’s the genius of this book. It messes with your moral compass.
There’s a smell to this book. Not literally, of course, but in the way Wojciechowski describes bodies, fluids, wounds, and rooms filled with neglect. And beneath it all, I could feel this aching, awful love. The writing doesn’t scream. It whispers. And that’s so much worse. It made me uncomfortable, not with violence or gore, but with how honest it was about how far people will go to feel needed.
There were times when I wanted to yell at Susan to run. Other times, I wanted to wrap her in a blanket and tell her it was okay to stop giving so much of herself. I think that’s why the story is so effective, it holds a mirror up to all the ways we lose ourselves in caring for others. The manipulation in this book is terrifying, not because it’s extreme, but because it’s familiar.
If you want a slow-burn, character-driven descent into psychological horror that feels both intimate and raw, Sick is a must-read. It’s perfect for readers who enjoy books like Gone Girl or The Shining, but crave something smaller in scale and more emotionally claustrophobic. It’s not just horror. It’s heartbreak in disguise. I’d recommend it to anyone interested in the darker sides of love, mental illness, and the twisted things we do in the name of care.
Pages: 282 | ASIN: B0FL5RTYQ9
Oblivion Black
Oblivion Black, by Christa Wojciechowski, is a gritty, darkly compelling story of addiction, trauma, and the quest for redemption. It follows Ona Price, an art school dropout navigating the brutal realities of heroin addiction and the emotional spiral it causes. Set in the seedy underbelly of New York City and later in the rural calm of her aunt’s bed-and-breakfast, Ona’s journey is one of self-destruction, survival, and the long, painful process of trying to reclaim her life.
The book weaves vivid descriptions of withdrawal and heroin highs with Ona’s inner turmoil, delving into themes of love, obsession, and despair. What struck me first about this book was the raw, unapologetic portrayal of addiction. Wojciechowski doesn’t sugarcoat the experience. In fact, she plunges you straight into the darkness of it. The vivid, almost cinematic scenes made me feel like I was right there with her, suffocating under the weight of her choices.
The writing hits hard and fast, often as disorienting as the life Ona is living. I found myself both repulsed and captivated by her self-destruction, wanting to reach through the pages and shake her awake. Wojciechowski’s ability to depict inner conflict is stunning. Ona’s thoughts are chaotic yet painfully introspective, such as when she reflects on her artistic ambitions and how her addiction has derailed them. The way the narrative delves into Ona’s psyche made me both pity and admire her. Her contradictions make her feel incredibly real—she’s someone who knows she’s broken, but she can’t quite summon the strength to pull herself together.
The book’s pacing takes on a slower, more reflective tone in the middle. This shift allows the reader to truly immerse in the painstaking nature of the healing process, capturing the realistic ebb and flow of emotions. The portrayal of Ona’s daily struggle creates a sense of authenticity, highlighting the repetitive yet essential small victories and setbacks of recovery. And just when the routine starts to feel too settled, Wojciechowski injects powerful moments of raw emotion that reignite the intensity and keep the reader deeply engaged.
Oblivion Black is not for the faint of heart. It’s a gritty, disturbing, and often uncomfortable read, but it’s also beautifully crafted, with characters that linger long after the last page. I’d recommend this book to anyone who enjoys psychological fiction that doesn’t shy away from dark, complex themes. It’s perfect for readers who appreciate stories that explore the depths of human suffering and the possibility of redemption, even when the odds seem insurmountable.
Pages: 387 | ASIN : B09YWKRLG6
LITERARY TITAN 