Obsession

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Trigger warning:
Stalking, murder, mutilation, obsessive behaviors, overall dark themes

Natasha knew she was screwed from the first second she layed eyes on her.

Long silky hair that glowed red in the sunlight, bright green eyes that danced and sparkled, and a body that made her mouth go dry and her brain shut down.

" Hey, I'm Wanda. I'm a little new here, do you have any advice for surviving the collage life?" Her eyes were warm and inviting. Her smile made the Russian's heart flutter, and her skin was soft and smooth as they shook hands.

They had talked.

They had laughed.

Natasha had given her a somewhat useful tour without tripping over her own feet.

In the beginning it was just your average schoolgirl crush.

Innocent and aw worthy.

But it soon evolved.

Natasha found herself watching the brunette from afar. Listening into converstations she had. Swiping pencils and pens from her desk when she was'nt looking.

She would replay every encounter they had in her mind over and over until it became unbareable.

She knew it was getting problematic when she found herself following the girl home one night.

She had her hood up and her head down. Boots claping quietly againt cement as she watched her from afar. Set aglow like an angel in the lamplight.

Her body moving on it's own.

Her mind clouded yet perfectly sharp.

She didnt feel like a person, but a spectator. Like someone watching a movie. Her eyes a camera, filming and filing away every step the Sokovian took.

Eventually they had reached a brick house. Not fancy but not shabby.

It was when the brunnete opened the door and slipped inside that Natasha had finally realized what she had done.

She ran home as fast as she could that night.

Winding down backstreets and narrow allyways until she got to a street she recognized.

She closed and locked her door behind her, letting herself slide down until she was sitting on cold tile.

She dropped her keys and put her head in her hands.

One thought disturbing and pushing through.

I wonder what her house is like on the inside.

Wanda slipped quietly into her house, closing and locking the door behind her. She let herself slide down until she met itchy carpet.

She slid her backpack off her shoulders, grinning to herself as she unzips it.

She had always had an affinity for photography, taking pictures of landscapes and sunsets. But these days her pictures have been a little different.

A little less tastefull.

She took a small pouch from her backpack and smirked to herself as she unzipped it.

Pictures spilled out, old polaroid style squares.

And they held images that numbed her mind.

Her sweet, precious Natasha didn't always remember to close her blinds, or even lock her windows for that matter. It took no effort at all to scale the lattice and swing them open.

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