Triangle Of Self Obsession Na Novels & Stories

I felt the flinch in her chest, then the stubborn tilt in her thoughts as she met that fear head-on instead of backing away. “If that’s true,” she said, “then we need rules. Boundaries. Agreements with this third self just as much as we have with each other.” The idea sounded ridiculous at first—making rules with a thing that lived inside us. But the more I sat with it, the more sense it made. “The triad isn’t some separate creature,” I said. “It’s just us… added together. So if we decide that certain things are non-negotiable—our right to name our own desires, our right to speak when the joined instinct feels wrong—that becomes part of its nature too.”

“Looks like the little princess is getting a taste of real life.” Serena lifted her chin, glaring at them. “Get lost.” The second man, Matteo, smirked, his dark eyes trailing over her form. “Relax, sweetheart. We were just admiring the view.” The third man, Nico, leaned against the wall, rubbing his jaw. “You look cold, bella,” he mused. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death.” Serena’s skin prickled with unease. She knew men like this. Had seen them in her father’s world. Men who thrived on power and control.

That’s how I know it’s working. They say obsession is a sickness. I say it’s clarity. The more I watch, the more I understand. People lie. Constantly. They pretend to care. They pretend to be kind. But under it all, they’re selfish and fake and weak. Rotten. Rotten like River. Rotten like Daniel. I’m not the villain here. I’m just the one holding the mirror. No one suspects me. No one watches me. That’s how this works. You don’t hide in shadows.

This was the height of greed and selfishness. Rio stood and walked to me. He stroked my arms in comfort. My body reacted as usual but now I was disgusted. “Don’t touch me.” I shift away from him. He stood, staring at me. “So, you decided to come in and taste your merchandise before you purchase it?” I yell at him, doing my best to push back the tears building up in me.

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.

“Why would I need anything from you? There’s no female amongst my army and I had told my men to dress your wounds, but I figured it would be best I do it myself. You don’t expect me to blindfold myself just to dress you up or take care of your wound.” Humiliation burned hotter than the whip. “If you want to kill me, just do it,” I said through my teeth. “Why constantly humiliate me by seeing me like this?” Daron’s hand paused for a moment. “I don’t understand why you’re so bothered by your nakedness at a time like this. You act as if it matters.” My nails dug into the mattress. “You should as well just kill me, Daron, ‘cause I won’t stop trying to kill you with any chance I get.”

"Your hatred is the fuel for my obsession. The more you despise me, the more I crave to break you—until you have nothing left but my name on your lips when you finally reach your breaking point." He didn't want my soul; he wanted my absolute submission. My mind rebelled, screaming at me to push him away, to find a weapon, to run—but my body was betraying me. The proximity of him was like a narcotic, a lethal, addictive pull that made my knees feel like water. I hated how much I wanted him to stop, yet simultaneously, I craved this ruin. I craved the intensity because, in a world where I had been discarded and killed, his obsession—however toxic—was the only thing that felt real.

“To the Voss family. By the time you read this I will be long gone. You think the obsession was about power and revenge. You are wrong. It was always about love. A love triangle from John’s youth that Sarah never forgave. John chose Sarah over the other woman who carried his child in secret. That child was me. I was hidden because Sarah could not stand the reminder. The games the threats everything was her way of punishing John for the love he gave away. I helped her because I wanted the father I never had. But now I see the cycle must break. Or maybe it never will. Tell Hope I am sorry. She deserves better than the shadows we left behind.” The room went completely silent for a long moment.

"Know what? That the girl who has everything wants the boy who has nothing?" "I don't want you!" She looked like she wanted to slap me, but her eyes were anchored to mine. "I hate you. I hate that you're looking at me like this." "Good," I said, reaching down to lace my fingers with hers. Her skin was ice cold, but mine was burning. "Hate is a great motivator. It's almost as strong as what's actually happening right now." "And what is that?" "Obsession." I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. "There's a car parked behind the equipment shed. No cameras. No Sarah. No Jax. Just a dark corner and a 'disaster' waiting to happen."

I hear him speak in a despondent and remorseful voice, making me look at him to see his visible internal struggles coloring his ambiance. Presenting such a pathetic form before me. He acts all miserable beneath his repugnant insecurities and devastating self-esteem. His depressing emotions do well to get him skeptical and I resist the urge to release a bitter laugh, having my eyes lower down his shuddering body, noticing the undiminishing sparks prevalent in his bones and muscles. You clearly want me so badly, yet you deprived yourself for no just reason. Why do you obsess so much over self-affliction? What's so addictive to self-torture?