Pathological Obsession Novels & Stories

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?

It ruins the landscape. In fact, no, why put me down in this mishap? Why should I still feel guilty for asking you to erase what connects us? You told me that the two of us " would be forever." I now remain deaf to this form of blackmail. Yes, that's blackmail, Paul. What the hell did you imagine? That you could continue to own my body and soul until the end of time? You are very selfish, let me tell you. Are you only aware of my own desires? No, I am correcting myself—my absence of lust. When you approach me, I see myself as a little girl on a merry-go-round. My mother insisted, but I would die of vertigo. Your triple-digit perfumes can get sniffed through other nostrils.

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.

Stay tuned for MADDEST OBSESSIONS. Love. NaYa.

he laughed again. "Why do you keep saying sex? It's make love baby. Sex is just for whore. We love each other so it's make love." he's laughing a little still, but he stands up and go to my place. He hugged me so tight. "I love you, I love you, I love you… And our baby too…" he whispered to my ear. He hold my hands and played a little. "You know that there's so many bad things happened into our life, Specifically to the both of us. I made so many bad things to the point that I become obsessed and stalked you… You're not the only one who called me psycho because I really am… There's this five men that I nearly killed because they betrayed me. I almost lose my sister and that's the start why I

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.

He was such a complex man. "What do you think obsession is?" he asked, locking his stormy eyes onto mine. I was caught off guard by his question. "Obsession?" "Yes," he replied immediately. No hesitation. No smile. "Well, I think it's uh..." I chewed my bottom lip. "An unhealthy fixation. Like the... the strong influence. A compulsion. The desire to have full possession of something or someone," I explained, carefully selecting my words. "It can also be linked to mental illness."

Or just some kind of plain, creepy obsession? _______________ ______________________