Books On Obsession Novels & Stories

"These memories will be painful to take in, but you need to relax and patiently go along with it. In that way, things like what you witnessed today or yesterday will eventually help you get your memories back." "I guess, I should do that." She sighed. "Is there such a person that has a great obsession with a certain thing, that could lead to killing or harming other people even at a young age?" "That's not impossible." Sandra fixed her glasses. "It's because of the background, and how the people around her act that could stir inside someone's head to do something extreme. An obsession? It started with the lack of love that the person receives. Then, when one shows love, the obsessive person

“She was too eager. Too prepared. Almost… relieved.” He paused. “And Jenny herself — she looked completely unaware. Like someone who didn’t choose this marriage… but someone who was pushed into it.” Richard leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the desk lightly. A slow, calculated expression formed on his face. “Interesting,” he murmured. The atmosphere thickened. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. “Continue,” he commanded.

“Now? I probably drink until I forget. Or until I hate him enough to stop caring.” “That doesn’t sound healthy.” I let the silence settle between us. The bar’s dim lights painted shadows on the floor, and my buzz was just strong enough to make everything blur at the edges. I leaned forward again, fingers toying with the condensation on my glass. “You ever get so obsessed with someone,” I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.”

“I think sometimes people don’t realize how deep they’ve fallen into it. It starts small—checking their social media, driving by their house ‘just to see.’ But over time…” He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of experience. “It can escalate. The person might start following them or showing up unannounced, thinking they’re being romantic or that it’s a sign of how much they care. But that’s the thing about obsession—it warps your perception. What you think is love or concern might actually be… something darker.”

I can't rest my mind, so I put my bags in a corner, time for me to think about a way out. My phone is ringing. I thought I had muted it. Am I losing my mind? It is ringing again. I tell myself that my publisher is probably urging me for my second volume of 'The old perfume in the cupboard. ' I grab my phone, a little re-motivated. And there, my enthusiasm crashes down when I see the name of Paul appear on my screen.

That if Antonio touched her, tasted her, fucked her, maybe I'd stop feeling so obsessed. Maybe I will remember she was just a plaything. And just another sexual arrangement. I didn't like sharing things I was obsessed with. But if she was just a toy? Sharing wouldn't matter. That's what I told myself as I sent him the invitation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Antonio arrived at my penthouse around ten that morning. Antonio is tall, dark-haired, with an easy smile that women love. He clapped me on the shoulder. "You sounded urgent yesterday," he said. "What's going on?"

Obsession isn’t something you choose. It chooses you. Wraps around your soul like a vice, squeezing until there’s nothing left but the sickness of wanting. It seeps into your blood, replacing logic, making you something… else. Something monstrous. And fuck… I like it the more I watch her.

Lena asked, though her tone suggested she was already working through the possibilities. "Because he's obsessed," I replied, thinking about the photos, the note, the pattern of behavior we'd been observing for weeks. "He doesn't want to run from me anymore, he wants to confront me. He wants to possess me, reclaim me, make me choose him over whatever life I've been building." "That's insane," Lena said flatly. "Yes," I agreed. "But it's also predictable. Obsession makes people irrational, makes them take risks they normally wouldn't.

It was an image of Scarlet’s face. Caitlin felt her stomach roll with anguish. How had her daughter’s face come to be on this ancient text in a lost vampire library? Once again, she thought of destiny. It was as though everything had already been decided. No, it was more than that. If felt as though everything that was happening now had already happened before, as if they were living in a constant loop with history swirling round and round, repeating ad infinitum. The life she was living was just one cycle, one in which the outcome had been predicted before, but was not set in stone. She could change the premonitions and prophecies. Whatever was supposed to happen, she still had control over

Because instead of forgetting, instead of letting it fade into something insignificant, I become obsessed. With it…. With the why? With the how? With The Who? I become obsessed with the curiosity of unraveling it all and the more I try to rationalize it, the more It sits at the back of my mind like an itch I can’t scratch, it’s quiet at first when I try to suppress it but then it’s loud, it becomes louder and louder as if it’s clawing at the seams of my sanity until it’s all I can think about in between sentences, in between breaths, in between pretending I’m fine.