Obsession

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Follow a man on his journey to find love in all the wrong ways.

Submitted: June 03, 2015

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Submitted: June 03, 2015

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It’s my seventh kill this summer, and I’m on fire. For me, it is not so much the thrill of the hunt as it is the high that envelops me when I sink my thumbs into the throat of a woman and can see the wild terror in her eyes.

 

My first time was the summer of 1982, my 11th year. I was just a boy then. This summer was particularly hot; the kind of relentless heat that makes your skin sticky, and leaves your neck in a perpetual wetness you can’t wipe dry. Where your blood is thick in the heat, and makes your heart beat harder than normal to push the thick blood through its veins.

 

Her name was Claire, and I had such a crush on her. Long blonde hair which always smelled of flowers, eyes as blue as the sky, rosy lips and porcelain skin. She was all I could think about. Her friends called me a freak and frequently told me to stop stalking her, but it was all over for me. The first day I touched her was the day I cut a locket of hair from that beautiful blonde mane she had. I kept it by my bedside at night and frequently used it in my hand as I stroked myself with it.

 

I had finally mustered up the courage to ask her to the 7th grade dance, and gosh was I nervous. My hands get clammy just thinking about it. She looked so pretty that day, with her hair in a neat pony tail set high on her head, and that purple blouse that I loved to see her in.  I approached her in the cafeteria, where her friends made snide whispers and called their moms on their little pink phones. “Mom, he’s back! What do we do? I thought you said he would leave her alone now.” They would say in panicked hushed voices. Oh yes my mother told me that it was unnatural to be so “into” a girl so severely, and at this age. I could not help myself.

I grabbed her hand in mine, got down on a knee, and hurriedly asked her to the dance. She snatched her hand away! Snatched it! She called me a freak-boy and told me to get lost! My Claire just did not realize how much she needed me then. I would just have to teach her….

 

That was the night of my first hunt.  I followed her home after the dance half way to her two-story picture perfect house with a white fence and blue paneling. Oh how her parents worried. I walked swiftly behind her and could almost smell the breath of that luscious hair that bounced merrily in the high set pony. My heart was racing, and I quickened my pace. She would be mine tonight.

 

My heart was beating so loudly in my ears that it made them ache. My palms were sweaty. My breath was heavy. Oh how close she was. She whipped around like a little viper, and just before she could shout for help, I clasped my hand over her mouth, and drove my lucky black pocket knife into her stomach. The warm blood covered my hand and soaked her shirt.  I grabbed her arm and pulled her off into the bushes where we were covered, and nobody would see her and how much she needed me. Her eyes were wild with terror and the blood was pooling on her stomach. I unclasped my hand from her mouth and pressed my lips to hers. She yelled into my mouth and tried to push me off of her! Why?! Why didn’t she want me!?!?!?! I could see the fear in her eyes, and that only made me angry at her. Why was she so afraid?! I loved her!

 

 

If I couldn’t have her, nobody could.

 

I put my hand over her eyes while she struggled beneath me like the little serpent that she was.

 

My other hand grasped her throat, and hard. Her legs were kicking and thrashing wildly, but all I could feel was her warmth beneath me, and all I could hear was my heart beat in my ears.

 

Her twisting and writhing slowly came to a stop. Her warm body and luscious hair was all mine. Nobody would want her now. She loved me.

 

My Claire.

 

Since her there have been over 40 women. I remember them all by name and where they stayed, their place of work, their husbands and what they did for a living. I remember everything. My thirst has only gotten stronger, but nobody can give me what Claire gave me. I will find another. She will love me like my beautiful Claire did.

 

I’ll show her.


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