Driving My Obsession Novels & Stories

Raees’s name glowed on his phone screen as he picked it up when it lit uo. She'd dropped him a missed call. He clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale white. “I’m doing this for you,” he muttered under his breath, voice breaking the silence like glass. “So that when it’s over, you’ll never have to look at me and see what I’ve become. So I can finally ride myself of this obsession...” He drove off, the tires hissing against wet asphalt, leaving the envelope behind on the hood of Cooper’s car.

"I guess breaking rules is my new pastime." "And also," he continues, rolling my jeans up above my mid-thighs and spitting in his hand. "If you start driving, you get less interest looking into the windows because remaining in the traffic flow is much less exciting than a blacked-out, high-end SUV, parked alongside the highway." He does make sense.

An addiction. She was nothing but an addiction. Yet an intense addiction that has made its way in his blood, coursing through his veins and now there was no turning around. He had reached to the dead end of that addiction that despite wanting, he can't give up on that addiction. Reaching a point that he had accepted he was obsessed with her. That he has fallen into the depth of that obsession. Fallen completely. Insanely. Passionately. Desperately. And lastly, hopelessly.

His Adam's apple bobbed violently before he finally spoke in a rough, unfamiliar voice. "My love... that's not true. I didn't do it. They were lying. I didn't do it, I swear." He slowly stood and approached her, desperately trying to justify something Iris didn't even understand. But when she noticed emotions on his usually cold face... Maybe madness. Maybe obsession. She wanted to run. Immediately. She turned around and hurried toward the door. Memories that didn't belong to her flashed through her mind, mirroring exactly what was happening now. "No, wait, Iris! Please!!"

⸻ Unrevealed. ⸻ Back on the road— Aaron turned toward his car. ⸻ The night no longer felt empty. ⸻ It felt like the beginning of something. ⸻ Not healing. ⸻ Not yet. ⸻ But truth. ⸻ And this time— He wasn’t going to stop until he found it. Obsession had a rhythm. ⸻ It didn’t sleep. ⸻ It didn’t slow down. ⸻ And it didn’t care about anything else.

To anything that would help me drown out his voice echoing in my head. “You’re pathetic.” That one stuck. It played on loop like a curse. Because I knew he was right. Maybe this obsession I had with him—this reckless, spiraling need to have him—wasn’t desire. Maybe it was a sickness. One that consumed every part of me until I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I tried to remember what happened after the club. There were pieces, scattered like broken glass. Laughter. Loud music. A drink too many. A face—his face?

The madness is winning. I can feel it. This is what obsession thwarted looks like. I lean back slowly, eyes never leaving the screen. “If you’ve let someone touch you,” I murmur softly to the empty room, “I’ll make them beg.” And when I find you again, little sister… You won’t get to run a second time. I will use you, I will ruin you and I will finally own you. Two years of searching. Of hunting. Of tearing through cities and contacts and whispers.

“I’ll die before I beg.” “Maybe you will,” I admit. “Maybe you'll fight until you’re carved into pieces. Maybe you’ll burn and smoke and be gone.” I step in close and let the cold in my voice do the work that hands sometimes do. “Or you’ll learn how much better it is to be useful.” She presses her palm over her chest like she can hold herself together. “You’re insane.” Maybe I am. Obsession sharpens a man until everything else is a dull idea. “I’m focused,” I say. “Focused gives me advantage.”

West said with a smile, hoping to get to her mother's funeral ground soon, she was so exhausted and needed to get some periods of sleep after when she got home. The driver pressed the send button and sent the message to someone. West was oblivious to these things as she was just relaxing, humming the song the driver suddenly turned on out of the blue. Just when she sat up straight to ask for the name of the song the driver was playing in his car, her eyes cycled when she spotted something edgy and black in the dashboard of the car. She sat up well, not wanting to seem as if she detected something, she gazed outside and used her side eyes to look at the object again, it was covered with a whi

My mind was buzzing, a chaotic mix of panic and self-pep talks. Grabbing my bag, I paused as I spotted the keys to my black silk car sitting on the dresser. It was the car Mom had gifted me on my 20th birthday, a sleek and elegant ride that everyone else seemed to adore. But for me, it was just a reminder of something I couldn’t fully enjoy. I knew how to drive, of course. But after the accident during one of my therapy sessions, driving had always filled me with unease. The thought of being behind the wheel stirred up flashes of broken glass and the sound of my own terrified screams.