Novel & Cerita I Thought It Was A Common Possession

I shook my head and tried to focus on work, I couldn't be having such thoughts in the office, else I'd have a bigger problem to deal with. I wonder if she knew of how much she affected me, she didn't even need to do anything, all she had to do was just be in the same room with me and I'll lose my focus withing minutes. ________________________________________ I was exhausted beyond explanation, this would be the fourth apartment Tristan and I would be checking out and I hadn't seen something to match my taste. The others were too big for someone like me, I just wanted a small place, somewhere I could feel at home.

𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙗𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣'𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨. 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 � �𝙡𝙡 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩.

I sighed and leaned back again. I was so restless even after sleeping the entire previous day. “Hmm, you said you saw something belonging to the dead man in his possession?” He clasped his hands together on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, it was a bloody pendant. I guess I still have it somewhere,” I uttered. “Hmm, every victim’s body has one thing in their possession missing. I guess he collects them as souvenirs. So those things must be somewhere in the mansion,” Theo rubbed his chin, thinking hard.

The air was thick with tension, the silence between us heavy. Mark's voice sliced through the silence, his words dripping with possession. "You're my possession," he declared, "You're not allowed to eat with anyone apart from me, your husband, or the kids." My mind reeled, stunned by the audacity of his statement. "His possession?" I asked myself inwardly I felt a chill run down my spine as the weight of his words settled upon me. Was this what our relationship had devolved into? Was I nothing more than a possession to him?

Then he remembered: the party was open to commoners tonight. His jaw tightened. So that’s what you are, he thought. A commoner with no idea what you’ve just done.

"You are my possesion. Whatever I want I get" His voice boomed with power and authority. I was confused. I had no qualities. I was not an American top model, I had no status or cliche I would even compare my self with with a distinct fashion designer because she wears designer clothes but he choosed to own me. Someone with baggages a person who has burdens, someone who had nothing concrete to give a man like him even though a man like him had everthing and yet he choose me.

I was about to speak with him when it dropped and since he didn't even want me around him, I didn't have the chance to give it back. Being in possession of the drive even skipped my mind because all I did was abandon it in one of my jewelry cases. Was it that important? What was going on? And now that I think about it, she mentioned something about me knowing the secret of almost everyone. Did she believe it was mine? It wasn’t mine. It was Louis’s.

Second, I am not interested in him, and I think he feels the same. I really don't understand why everyone is fond of owning something when, in fact, you cannot own anything in this world unless that thing or that someone lets you own him or her. We cannot own humans, we cannot own power, we cannot own the throne, we cannot own something or someone... and we cannot own a life. All you can do is to keep on telling people that you own him because you were afraid that someone else might own him too, or that someone might steal him away from you.

I knew her too well and that was the problem. People saw her now and thought she was just cruel, sharp-tongued, power-hungry. But they didn’t know her the way I did. I remember a moment from years ago when we were just little pups running around the pack house, laughing over nothing. There was this small silver hairpiece. I remember it clearly. It belonged to one of the elder women. She had left it on a table just for a moment and then it was gone. Everyone searched. “Did you see who took it?”

I questioned further. “No,” she simply answered. “Then what?” I asked again. “It’s just that you are the boss’s possession, and you shouldn’t be in a place meant for his domestic workers,” she revealed. I became infuriated by what she just said. Keith’s possession. That was the singular reason he bought me with that ridiculous amount of money! He wanted to own me like I was a fucking piece of furniture. Why were all these men always seeking to possess? Edward Zachary, those horny bastards at the sex house, Saint Alexander, and Keith Von Quavo.