Obsessed With True Crime Novels & Stories

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!!"

It had taken much more than a new coat of paint and new front door. He had completely gutted the place and practically built it new from the floor up. Then all the business that he had gotten had come from the morbid horror chasers and those who are obsessed with true crime. He likes to refer to them a bottom feeders, vultures or the classic 'fucking freaks' depending on his mood.

he replies. “Obsessed how?” I inquire. I had thought I was doing a good job of not showing obsessive behavior when it came to Ava. “You haven’t shown interest in anything that doesn’t involve her. You are actively being hunted by one of the city's largest crime bosses and you’re treating him like a peeping tom. She’s become the only reason you go to bed at night and get up every morning. In my line of work, we call that obsessive,” he concludes with a nod.

My curiosity had now turned into an unrelenting obsession with this infamous mafia boss, who was said to leave bite marks on his victim's necks. I didn’t know what it is about this case that had me so intrigued, but I’d spent so much time thinking about it and wanting to get to the bottom of what was happening that I couldn’t stop now. I’d come this far, so I needed to keep going, for the sake of Darick’s victims. Even if it cost me my job in the end.

Because that would mean admitting the truth. That I was obsessed with her. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

It never ends well. Obsession is lethal. It creeps in quietly, wrapping itself around you like comfort, but it suffocates in the end. It erases who you were and replaces it with hunger. If I stay, the person I am will disappear, replaced by someone who longs for a violent man, a sadistic killer. Obsession has never been a good trait, and this one terrifies me more than he ever could. More than what happened earlier tonight. Being locked in that office was horrifying, but this is worse. This feels like addiction, deep and consuming.

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.

I am aching for her. I spend my day trying not to think about her sexy body and her huge tits. I have always been obsessed with tits. She let me suckle her as long as I wanted. I want to just hold her tit in my mouth while I fuck her pussy. I have to stop thinking about her while I am at work. I cannot have a hard cock while I am standing by the pool, passing out towels. I have never been this happy to see the next shift coming to relieve me. I want to go back to her. I want to dive into her and stay there forever. I need to touch her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Julia advises as she flips some pancakes. “True. Fair point. I guess it’s one thing to observe crime from a far. When you read, watch, listen to true crime stories it’s not a direct connection to you personally. You are simply observing someone's worst nightmare come to life. It’s not your nightmare so therefore you feel untouchable to the bad forces in the world. However, when you live it as an experience it’s more raw, and harder to digest.” I add, trying to process the strange thoughts and emotions swirling inside of me.

I sigh in defeat. “How many other people get away with those same things? Why didn't you go after any of them? If you ask me, it doesn't necessarily have to do with what he did ordidn'tdo that's got you angry. You grew obsessed with the need to pin a crime on him, and you became obsessed with making him pay because no one ever has, so you wanted to be the first.” My father's lips press into a firm line, and it looks like he wants to say something, but I shake my head.