Books On Obsession Novels & Stories

“I was never your soldier, Bellini. I was his. And the night I killed that man in front of your woman… it was all staged to bring her to you. To create the perfect obsession.” Matteo’s gun rose. “Why?” “Because obsession makes the strongest alliances,” the Architect replied. “And because your sons carry something rare — a genetic key to certain… opportunities in our world.” I felt sick. “You used me as breeding stock?” The Architect’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “I gave you power. Love. A man who would burn the world for you. Was it so terrible?” Gunfire suddenly erupted from the shadows — Romano’s last loyalists, or perhaps another faction. Chaos filled the sacred space. Matte

She explained and he nodded. "Well I wish to be like Logan Griffo." He said and Lydia groaned. "What?" "Henry, don't always judge a book by its cover." "Whatever, you seem like you know him." He said and Lydia faked a laugh. "Well, let's forget about that, I want to tell you something." Henry said with a smile and turned to his sister. "What? You seem excited." "Yes, so you know this section is just for patients with brain tumor?"

Sitting at my desk, I felt like hitting my head on it. I'd all but propositioned a complete stranger that I had quickly become obsessed with. I found my self willing her to reply, re-reading what little contact we have already had. I'm pathetic. I've worked hard to build my billion dollar empire, I have several research facilities, labs and dispensaries, properties that range fom modest and affordable to luxurious and down right extravagant. I'm the director of several charities and own hotels and restaurants and yet here I am, losing my mind over a beautiful girl.

I need her. I need Lola back to tell me what to do, to chase those demons that are festering and growing inside of my head. I want to hear her voice to drown this madness. I need her or I’m going to lose my mind literary. “Who am I trying to talk to? You are a dead person. You might be standing here in front of me, bleeding, breathing and your heart beating quickly but still dead inside. You know nothing about love or emotions. You don’t feel sad, angry, frustration, or even fear.”

If she was willing to step closer, it meant I wasn’t the only one feeling this. That meant everything could go wrong. At home, I dropped my backpack by the door and stared at it like it held answers. My house was quiet too quiet. It always was. Mom worked late. My room felt like a waiting space rather than somewhere I belonged. I pulled out my English book and opened to the marked chapter, but the words blurred. Every sentence turned into her name. Every metaphor felt personal. Obsession starts when people ignore what they feel. I’d said that in class like it was a theory.

On the other hand, my obsession with things had always yielded effective results. First, it was my obsession with making more money than I could ever spend. I was obsessed with being the best in the game. But lately, all those obsessions seemed like something so laughable, like a child's play compared to the obsession I'm currently growing towards Iris Paige. It's infuriating, irritating, and fucking unbearable. The harsh reality was that I was completely obsessed with her. Addicted wasn't a strong enough word to even start describing what I feel. I could no longer run away from it like I did when I was twenty-three. I've officially hit rock bottom admitting that I'm full-blown obsessed with

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" I asked again. "What do they say? " he brought his face a bit closer to mine and gave me a pretty smile and asked. I was wondering if I should ask him something like this or not. " Do you wish it not to be a girl ? " I asked awkwardly. I didn't know if it was appropriate to ask him something like that but I did anyway. I wasn't thinking much while asking. He laughed a bit and looked up at the sky again. "Who knows! I just never found anyone for whom I could be obsessed," he replied.

We already searched for answers. She stood up slow, legs still jelly. Turned off the tap. Grabbed a towel, wrapped it loose. Back in the living room she flopped on the couch, dripping everywhere. Laptop was open—screen black. She tapped it awake. Browser already up. Search bar: cervical parasites deep sea symbiote human glowing after orgasm Bonnie stared. “You really did that. While I was blacked out.” We are curious too. She scrolled. Forum threads. Weird biology blogs. People talking about parasites that bond for pleasure. Reward chemicals. Evolution through constant bliss.

The straw finally snapped between my fingers on the forty-third twist. There's a name for what I have: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Why I didn't tell Nico I have OCD I'll never know. Maybe it's because I'm keenly aware of how crazy I am. My main obsession is numbers. I count everything, how many twists it takes to break a straw or how many steps I take to and from class. My compulsion is having to touch things seven times to make everything all right. The anxiety on top of OCD was just a perk. "Oh my God, you've never been to a football game?" she asked incredulously. "That's a sacrilege at this school."