Obsession
Title: Obsession
Author: Brassenaurian
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 682
Author’s Notes: This was written for silverontherose's October Obsession Challenge. The grammar is absolutely terrible in some places, and it almost irks me to leave it like that. However, it is done on purpose, and I believe it actually makes things sound better this way. Or rather, it sounds more like I had intended it to sound.
He’s been obsessed with me for years now. I don’t think either of us knows exactly when His feelings changed from casual interest to full out obsession, but it was a long time ago. Now, we’re engaged in a private battle that, in a way, has already claimed both of our lives.
When I was a child, I thought He couldn’t take anything more from me than my virginity and maybe my life. I thought He couldn’t take my dignity, my honor or my family. Ah, such naivety.
With a simple movement of His hand, a click of metal and the sight of a cocked gun, He gave me an ultimatum: My dignity, or someone else’s life.
With a smirk and a few choice words, He reminded me that I’d thrown my honor out the window already. No honorable warrior would have lived so long by the policy that the ends justify the means.
It took Him a little longer to rob me of my family, but eventually He took them as well. Even the strongest of men have a breaking point, and my brother is no exception.
I used to say it was my father who taught me how to fight.
But it wasn’t.
I didn’t know a thing about what fighting truly meant until I fought Him.
I used to say it was my mother that taught me to be strong and to never give up.
But I was wrong.
I gave up so easily until He forced me not to.
I used to say it was my brother who taught me how to improvise and roll with life’s punches.
But that wasn’t true.
He showed me what life could really throw my way, and how to compensate.
In a way, He worked like an artist would work on a sculpture; carefully stripping away everything that He didn’t need or want. Carefully molding the piece and shaping it according to His desires.
Why would he ever spend so much time on one girl? Why, when he already had a family and a life, would he become so enamored with a mere child that he would throw away everything in order to pursue her? Why would he not lose interest, even after she had moved on and tried to forget about all the things he had done? After she had tried to forgive him? After she had grown up? What ever made him so...obsessed?
Ever since it started, He’s told me that I was His property, and that I would serve no master but Him. I used to tell myself that I was rebelling against Him, that I was fighting Him, that I would serve no master at all. In reality, I was doing what He wanted, what He expected. He followed me, and I ran. He reared up and I took the challenge. He threatened and I countered. Every single thing that I did, He had already counted on.
Even now, I’m not sure which one of us is in control. I’m sitting here on the rooftop in the cool of the evening, looking out over the city which is my temporary refuge, and all I can think of is Him. How do I defeat Him? Is it even possible? What’s He doing now? All of these questions, and no answers in sight.
I can tell that He is not the only one who is obsessed. Slowly, over the years, my life has come to revolve around one thing, one person: Him. I can’t rest until I defeat Him, and He won’t rest until He defeats me. We’re both as tangled up in this web as the other. A web of our own making.
Downstairs in my suitcase there is a revolver. Once it was the mark of His obsession with a girl he could never truly have; for a wall of age and His own twisted thoughts kept Him from His goal. Now, it is the mark of my obsession with a man who I can never truly defeat; for there is too much of Him inside myself.
Author: Brassenaurian
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 682
Author’s Notes: This was written for silverontherose's October Obsession Challenge. The grammar is absolutely terrible in some places, and it almost irks me to leave it like that. However, it is done on purpose, and I believe it actually makes things sound better this way. Or rather, it sounds more like I had intended it to sound.
He’s been obsessed with me for years now. I don’t think either of us knows exactly when His feelings changed from casual interest to full out obsession, but it was a long time ago. Now, we’re engaged in a private battle that, in a way, has already claimed both of our lives.
When I was a child, I thought He couldn’t take anything more from me than my virginity and maybe my life. I thought He couldn’t take my dignity, my honor or my family. Ah, such naivety.
With a simple movement of His hand, a click of metal and the sight of a cocked gun, He gave me an ultimatum: My dignity, or someone else’s life.
With a smirk and a few choice words, He reminded me that I’d thrown my honor out the window already. No honorable warrior would have lived so long by the policy that the ends justify the means.
It took Him a little longer to rob me of my family, but eventually He took them as well. Even the strongest of men have a breaking point, and my brother is no exception.
I used to say it was my father who taught me how to fight.
But it wasn’t.
I didn’t know a thing about what fighting truly meant until I fought Him.
I used to say it was my mother that taught me to be strong and to never give up.
But I was wrong.
I gave up so easily until He forced me not to.
I used to say it was my brother who taught me how to improvise and roll with life’s punches.
But that wasn’t true.
He showed me what life could really throw my way, and how to compensate.
In a way, He worked like an artist would work on a sculpture; carefully stripping away everything that He didn’t need or want. Carefully molding the piece and shaping it according to His desires.
Why would he ever spend so much time on one girl? Why, when he already had a family and a life, would he become so enamored with a mere child that he would throw away everything in order to pursue her? Why would he not lose interest, even after she had moved on and tried to forget about all the things he had done? After she had tried to forgive him? After she had grown up? What ever made him so...obsessed?
Ever since it started, He’s told me that I was His property, and that I would serve no master but Him. I used to tell myself that I was rebelling against Him, that I was fighting Him, that I would serve no master at all. In reality, I was doing what He wanted, what He expected. He followed me, and I ran. He reared up and I took the challenge. He threatened and I countered. Every single thing that I did, He had already counted on.
Even now, I’m not sure which one of us is in control. I’m sitting here on the rooftop in the cool of the evening, looking out over the city which is my temporary refuge, and all I can think of is Him. How do I defeat Him? Is it even possible? What’s He doing now? All of these questions, and no answers in sight.
I can tell that He is not the only one who is obsessed. Slowly, over the years, my life has come to revolve around one thing, one person: Him. I can’t rest until I defeat Him, and He won’t rest until He defeats me. We’re both as tangled up in this web as the other. A web of our own making.
Downstairs in my suitcase there is a revolver. Once it was the mark of His obsession with a girl he could never truly have; for a wall of age and His own twisted thoughts kept Him from His goal. Now, it is the mark of my obsession with a man who I can never truly defeat; for there is too much of Him inside myself.