Sweet Obsession (In Progress)

Chapter Four: Part Two

A/N:

The picture is of Daemon and Rosaline (from chapter 2 part 2).

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I pulled up in front of the rundown chapel, a frustrated groan escaping me. Even from the safety of my car on the street, I could clearly make out the ' Condemned Building' sign.

Great. Just wonderful, I silently fumed, peeling away from the curb and back onto the main road.

“They wouldn't have been able to help you anyways," someone said from the backseat, causing me to nearly veer off the road. I was alone in this car! At least, I should be.

I peered into my rearview mirror, my whole body trembling in fear as my eyes locked on my assailant. Instantly a wave of comfort washed over me, confusing me.

It was the man in the cloak, and he was still wearing it, but it was pulled back enough that I knew he could see me, and that my eyes were meeting his hidden ones. A new kind of heat coursed through my body, bringing with it a need that I had never known before.

“Watch the road, little bird. I wouldn't want anything to happen to what belongs to me, now would I. Not before I even get a chance to claim it," he chuckled darkly, causing the hair at the nape of my neck to stand on end.

“Get out of my car! I'm calling th police you freak! Why are you-" I screamed as I came to a screeching halt on the side of the road, only  stop when I noticed what he had called me.

“Ah, you've recognized me, I see," he murmured in my ear, warm breath fanning my exposed neck and sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“You're him. You've been in my dreams, my head. You've been watching me, terrorizing me. Why?!" I cried, too afraid to move, and knowing that it would be a fatal mistake.

There was a pause, and then he said, in a low, husky timber, “Because, Rosaline DeBlousi, you are to be my bride, as promised."

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After the unnerving conversation I had in my car with the phantom man, I decided it would be best to go and see a professional psychologist. I had been hoping that I'd be able to drag along Mr. Delusional with me, but when I had turned around he was gone. An impossible feat given that I hadn't heard him open the car door.

So, figuring that I was the one who had officially gone off the deep end, I made a last minute call to my childhood shrink and headed over to see him immediately.

“Hello, Rosaline. It's good to see you again, though I wish it was under different circumstances," Dr. Layton said as he took his seat opposite me, pulling out his pen and a pad of paper.

“Likewise," I replied. Dr. Layton hadn't seen me since I was sixteen. My parents used to send me to him twice a week in hopes of helping me with my night terrors and panicked attacks, but I had stopped coming when I felt that even he was beginning to lose his hope.

“You told me on the phone that you have been having some dreams reccently. I take it these dreams are different from your usually ones," he began, looking through his previous notes as he spoke.

“Yes. They started, and the nightmares stopped. But I only came because they have... progressed into something more." I hesitated to say any more, afraid I'd be locked away in a loony bin.

Dr. Layton's head snapped up, eyes boring into mine with immense curiosity. “Please," he said, voice clinical but carrying a note of excitement, “elaborate." Of course he was enthusiastic. I was probably his first real insane person.

“I have head a voice, at first just a part of the dreams, but now even when I'm awake. And I've seen things. A man in a cloak. He's been following me, watching me. But when I saw him today, he talked to me and then just vanished," I admitted, feeling increasingly vulnerable under the scrutiny of Dr. Layton's calculating gaze.

“I see. Well, often times these things are brought on by stress. I'll give you a worksheet with some things you can try to create a...  mental block, if you will. Come back to see me in a week, and if it doesn't work, I'll run a few tests to get a better appraisal of the situation," he stated, standing and moving to a filing cabinet against the wall. After scouring its contents, he came back over to me, handing me a sheet of paper with 'Relaxation Techniques' in bold print across the top.

“Thanks," I said, feeling slightly cheated with the visit. I highly doubted this would do much of anything, but it was worth a try.

“Sure thing. I'll see you next week," he responded as I made to leave. This day was turning out to be one big disappointment.