Romans & histoires Hopelessly Obsessed

I changed the flowing shower to cold water and let it wash the hotness off my body. Moments later, I was back in the room, dressed and ready to sleep for the night. But every time I closed my eyes, she was all I could see. Every single thing kept reminding me of her. I took different positions, changed my posture countless times, but Caelia still didn’t stop running through my mind. It was like she was a leech that couldn’t be removed. There was no denying it anymore; I was fucking obsessed with her! Good or bad type of obsession? I didn’t know which one, but all I knew was that I wanted her so badly. The obsession kept growing when I tried to stay away from her. The thoughts of her just wou

I gawked at her, “What is it to you, Rose? You don't even like him; this is just some crazy obsession that you have.” Veins bulged on her forehead and neck, pulsing with rage. Her gaze was venomous, “You know the worst thing about having an obsession? If I don't have him, nobody can.” I stood up to her, "That obsession - would kill you."

“No, Darren, I can’t, I won’t, just let me go, please, please, I am begging you, just let me go, why are you doing this to me, why are you obsessed with me, why me of all people, what is so broken inside your head that you think this is okay, that you think this is love, that you think this is anything but sick?” “You look like him, you sound like him, you know exactly what you are doing, you are twisting everything good I had, you are using his face and his body against me like it’s a weapon, and it’s killing me, Darren, it’s killing me. “I can’t even breathe looking at you because all I see is him and all I hear is him, but it’s not him, it’s you, and you are sick, you are so sick you need

"Don't touch me. You don't get to just drag me around like this anymore, Dante. You lost that right." Dante stood by the door, his hands resting on his hips, and he looked incredibly tired, the shadows under his eyes visible even in the dim lamplight of the room, but his gaze was locked onto hers, completely focused and desperate. "You have no idea what kind of game you're playing, Elena, you're walking into a slaughterhouse with Rodrigo Felix and you're doing it with a smile on your face."

He looked at me, and his eyes looked downcast for a second before returning to being cold. “Is she obsessed with you?” I asked. He shook his head and tried to touch me. I stepped away, and he spoke. “No, Alessia. She's not obsessed with me.” “Then it's me,” I blurted. “Why does she want my children dead? What the hell is going on?” He rubbed a hand down his face like he could wipe the guilt off it. “It's complicated.” “Complicated?” I laughed bitterly. “She's out to kill us, and you say it's complicated. What the hell are you hiding?”

“Yes.” “You knew I was going to research you and prepare to betray you.” “Yes.” “And you hired me anyway.” “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t need me to survive. You’d survive without me. You’d survive without anyone.” He reached up and touched her face like he was remembering what skin felt like. “And the moment I realized that, I understood I was going to lose my mind if you left.” She understood, in that moment, what obsession actually meant. It wasn’t passion. It wasn’t love in any traditional sense. It was the recognition that someone could exist without you and choosing to make them your reason to exist anyway.

I was trying to be calm and understand him earlier but not anymore, he was so obsessed that he couldn’t even see his own flaws. “You are obsessed and it’s ruining you” I continued, “this is not the Marcus I knew and admired. You have become someone else entirely and it’s very irritating. Do you know how fucked up this is?” I threw my hands in the air helplessly as frustration settled in the pit of my stomach.

I savour every inch of her mouth, the warmth of her, and the taste of myself still lingering on her tongue, and something inside me gives way all over again. God help me. I thought obsession was the worst of it. I was wrong. This is deeper. More dangerous. And I’m already too far gone to stop it.

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.

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.