His Obsession (Stalker Romance)

chapter twenty-four

He held me the most of the night, maybe for about four hours because we fucked throughout the whole night. He was soft and held me like I'd disappear, my head tucked in his chest and one of my legs over his hip.

We were tangled, he gave me the right amount of comfort and lulled me to sleep. For the first time in forever, I didn't need to take pills or drink unhealthy amounts of alcohol to sleep. All I needed was him.

Guess how I felt when I woke up the next morning, hugging a pillow that had him all over it? Absolutely shitty.

It felt as if he gave me life and took it back just as fast.

I hurry my face in the pillow, smelling him. Images of last night ran through my head all at once, bringing a smile on my lips. My cheeks warmed and I closed my eyes, thinking about him all over again. I don't think there's a time where I don't think of him. This time it's different though, I'm not in my "I hate him" self, I feel something different. Some so different that the thought of him makes me blush.

How atrocious is that? Goodness, it's horrendous.

I get up and stare at the pillow, my eyes narrowing. "Fucking Zade." I grit. "Fucking me like a menace and then disappearing." I say to it. "Classic Zade."

I don't know why my heart told me he'd come back, he always does. He comes back and gives me the world. A part of me actually wondered what it is that he does, he changes the subject every time I ask about it.

He drives me so mad, I'm starting to talk to myself. I'm pretty sure dick isn't able to drive a person this insane.

I hear talking downstairs, two voices that are conversing with each other. I only know because my father talks so loud and I could hear the humour in their laughter.

I get up and decide to bath instead of shower, I don't think I can stand for longer than two minutes. He wrecked me.

And then he had the nerve to leave me after all the damage he caused.

. . .

I dried my hair and put it in a slicked high ponytail. I brushed my eyebrows and put on face moisturiser, as well as pink lipgloss. I loved how I looked without makeup—excluding lipgloss. It's just something about covering my freckles that makes me feel complete.

I don't like them.

My mother has the same ones, light brown sprinkles below my eyes and on my nose.

But I have no one to hide from here, so I can be myself, not the cheerleader, not the investigator. Just Zay.

I put on a sundress today, a cute floral one.

My father is still making conversation with one of his friends–I assume because no one would talk this long to someone they aren't close to. I exist my room and go down the stairs, the pain in between my legs faded but I could feel it with every step.

. . .

"Good mor..." my speech faded into the wind. His eyes meet mine and he gives me one of those looks. Colourless iris twinkle with light. "Good morning, angel." My father smiled brightly. "What is he..." I trailed off, looking at him. Dressed in a black turtle neck and a coat over it. "I was just as shocked when I saw him, but he said he was in town so he decided to visit," my father said. "Do you remember him? Zade from the school project?"

How could I forget such a beautiful day?

"I love puzzles." Zade said to my shocked father. He likes puzzles too!

"Finally, someone just like me." He looked pleasantly at Zade. At this point they had both forgotten about me, they laughing over tea and solving puzzles. "I have a handful of collections, have you seen this one?" My father was showing all his collections like an excited child. "I'm afraid, not sir," Zade said, his dimple poking through his left cheek.

"Dad, we are supposed to be doing a school project not solving puzzles." I murmur. "Hush, kid, come join us if you're so jealous."

"I'm not jealous." I rebutted. "Then keep quiet," my father had the right amount of sass in him, even more than me!

I give up and sit with them, solving puzzles and crosswords until the sunny afternoon turned into a stormy and snowy evening, our laughter drifted off the walls for hours on end. "Oh dearest, you can't go home in this tragic weather." My father said, "stay the night and contact your parents, I'm sure they won't mind. I'll talk to them if they do."

The spark in Zade's eyes faded, but he nodded.

He stayed in the guest room for the night, and in the morning he was already gone. "Bring him home again, he's fun." My father said to me.

How could I forget? I never did.

The morning after the happiest night wasn't so good. My mother didn't like the fact that I stayed over at a "friends" house without informing her. I did actually, she was just too drunk to read the text.

"Listen to me and listen good," She took my glasses away from my face. She loves them on me, she would never risk having them break. "You do not question me. And you certainly do not do shit without telling me." She seethes, I tried to stand straight and take it as she grabbed the coller of my shirt. "I'm sorry..." I whispered, I was losing my voice because of how scared she scared me.

"Where's the fucking project you did, huh?" Her acrylics dug into my skin. I just gave up on speaking because there was no point, whether or not I explained myself, she'll do anything she pleases with me.

She lets me go, "Did you fuck her? Did you have fun?" She sounds hurt by the thought of me letting someone touch me. "What if I did? That has nothing to do with you!" I yell too. "Did you like it?" Her eyes swell up with tears. "I fucking loved it." I grit. "She actually asked for my consent, she didn't tie me up in the middle of night and forced herself on me. She didn't make me do crazy things for her. She wasn't you!" I feel my eyes burn.

"You think you're grown, Isaac?"

I hated it when she called me by my fathers name. She always does, and whenever she did, something horrible would follow. "Mom, listen." I sniffle. "I'm your son... you want me to have what I want, you love me, right?" My voice came out restrained. My walls were caving in. "Get on the bed," She looked at me with hardened eyes that resemble mine.

"I don't want it." I whisper, my heart thundering.

But it was too late, she'd already turned the lights off and I caught a glimpse of purple nightie flying across the room.

My mom is one of a kind.

I don't like being touched, but if it's by her I would die just for a brush. Maybe that's why I crave her so much, she makes me feel valued.

But that will never be enough to cloud my judgement. I fucking loathe Zhaian Chén.

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100% not edited, I didn't even read over it. Please don't mind any spelling mistakes or anything similar.

Have a lovely day. I hope it's not nighttime in your country☺️