Pathological Obsession Novels & Stories

And sickness could be treated. He clicked on another link: Coping Mechanisms for PTSD. The article talked about therapy, about healthy outlets. And then it mentioned maladaptive coping mechanisms—substance abuse, reckless behavior, compulsive behaviors… like the one he used. The article explained that these were desperate attempts to regain a sense of control, to numb the pain. It wasn’t a choice; it was a survival instinct gone wrong.

Angioletto's Pov It is considered a deformity to be fixated on a particular person or object. It is a deformity to be narrow minded. It is a deformity to only find psychological fulfillment from just one person. My therapist had so many words to describe my obsessive tendencies. But right now, all I want is to live with that deformity for the rest of my life. My new obsession. A beauty to behold. From the moment I set eyes on her, from dusk to dawn, every day since I’ve had her under my care, she has been imprinted in my DNA.

He has been sitting here for over an hour turning things over in the specific way he turns things over, which is directly and without softening the edges, because that is how he thinks about everything and he is not going to stop doing it because the thing he's thinking about is uncomfortable. He has known obsession since before he had a name for it. He had looked at it early and called it what it was and never flinched from the truth of it. He was obsessed with her. That had been clear and simple. He'd filed it correctly and kept going. He had known possession the same way. She was his. He'd been certain of that before he had any reasonable basis to act on it, before she had any reason to a

I want you to come to our final union as my bride. 'Three more days, my love. Three more days until we're united forever.' 'Eternally yours, Damien' I felt sick. The casual way he talked about murder, about stealing my life, about this twisted version of love he'd convinced himself was real—it was beyond disturbing. "He's completely insane," I said quietly. "He's obsessed," Maya corrected. "And obsession can be more dangerous than insanity. Insane people are unpredictable. But obsessed people follow patterns, fixate on specific goals."

Of course, it would not be a problem for him, to browse each page of the Internet to find out everything that happens in the world. This is to his credit, he found them but thanks to my good eye and my thorough investigation we are here. I am good looking for what benefits me the most but everything requires a prior evaluation to be accepted. I take what I want very seriously, a psychiatrist would say that I am obsessed with getting what I am infatuated with. But I'm not infatuated, I just want to build my own army to defend myself. Anyone would do it and it wouldn't be an obsession, it's just thinking about the future.

“Because I don’t want her anywhere near a man who drugged and attacked me!” “If that’s true, if you’re really that afraid of him, why do you keep asking about him? About where he is, what he’s doing, if Maya’s heard from him.” I watch her face carefully. “That’s not the behavior of someone who’s traumatized. That’s the behavior of someone who’s obsessed.” Sophie’s jaw clenches. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t I? I know obsession when I see it. I know manipulation.” I step closer. “I know what it looks like when someone wants something they can’t have and will destroy everything to get it.”

“Now? I probably drink until I forget. Or until I hate him enough to stop caring.” “That doesn’t sound healthy.” I let the silence settle between us. The bar’s dim lights painted shadows on the floor, and my buzz was just strong enough to make everything blur at the edges. I leaned forward again, fingers toying with the condensation on my glass. “You ever get so obsessed with someone,” I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.”

I pant, placing my hand on the sink as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I just went down on my knees to suck a man’s dick. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Fucking too much that I'm hard. I can feel my dick straining against my pants. I want to walk back to that room, strip before Nikolai, so he'll run his tattooed fingers through my body, touch me as his fucking breath fills my nose. I want to get off and I want Nikolai to be the one to do it. And that overall is entirely wrong. I've had vulgar thoughts, but not at a man. I've never been attracted to a man. But Nikolai? That bastard is like a fucking magnet, each time I try to get away, he draws me even closer.

She looked at Finn and asked, “You said the poisoning was done because Cay was trying to control himself? Does it mean if he loses control of his possession and obsession, he’ll not only poison me but do something worse?” “More or less. As for how bad it can go, you can search what an obsessive person does if he loses control. I’m sure you’ll be surprised,” Finn said as the light reflected from his glasses. Sydney went on the Internet and read through all the extreme behaviors and actions of people with a similar condition. It shocked her. “Cay… Is his condition that serious?” Sydney asked after a gasp of shock. Finn’s nonchalance was replaced by a serious look. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him