Short Stories Untold

Monomaniac

monomania definition:
/mɒnə(ʊ)ˈmeɪnɪə/
exaggerated or obsessive enthusiasm for or preoccupation with one thing.

Trigger warning: This story contains self-harm. Do not attempt. Some parts may also be disturbing.

I peeked through the back door of the class, there was no one except for her. She was somehow sitting alone at her desk, writing something in her notebook. Her seat is really close to the window, thus the figure of hers was brightened by the sunlight travelling through the window, making her more dazzling than usual. The way she kept sliding her reddish-blonde hair back from falling to the front signalling she was bothered by it. Pulling out a white scrunchie from her pencil case, she tied her hair up in a ponytail, exposing a few dots of mole on her fair bare nape. Oh, I wish I could have that scrunchie with the scent of hers, I thought to myself. Probably realizing it was already late in the evening, she suddenly stood up, packed her things and shoved them into her bag. She hurriedly exited through the front door as she started running to the school gate with her bag on her shoulders.

This was my first time getting near her class this year as we were both still freshmen. Until now, I only got to sit next to her table during breaks and watched her during P.E. and followed her to her house only a couple of times when people weren't watching.

After making sure no one was nearby the class, I tiptoed into the classroom and headed towards her desk, stroking every side of it. Ahh, the place where she studies. I glanced beneath the desk, it was stuffed with books. As I expected, she really is beautiful inside and out. That's why people call her 'beauty with brains'.

I took one and started sniffing every page that was still attached to her scent. After putting it back, I looked down, there were a few strands of her beautiful hair on the floor. I ducked under the table and started collecting them as I shoved them into my pocket. I wonder if there's still enough space to put in my collection of hers at home. I muttered.

It's been 3 years since I've been into her. We went to the same middle school and until now, I made sure I enrolled in the same high school as her. Moments of flashback started playing in my memory box when I first met my beloved Beth, Bethany Jones. She helped me so much with my exams during a tutoring program in middle school. With gentle care, she taught me everything. Her soothing voice when she taught me, her warm breath on my cheeks when she was close to me, the chuckling when she heard my jokes and the scent of her perfume that still lingered in my nostrils. I've once touched her hand on purpose, her white glowy skin is so smooth, it's like touching a baby's butt. I could still remember every little detail we'd done together.

Why haven't confessed to her, you ask? I'm a person who can't deal with anxiety or any pressure, so every time she was near my radar, I started to suck on my inhaler and ran away, only watching her from afar. But fear no more. Finally, after all these years, I've been planning to confess to her tomorrow after school. Despite my looks, I'm sure she would accept me for having a kind heart, not for the looks. She is the kindest person I've ever met.

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As soon as I got home from school, I went into my room and pulled out a container that contained some of her belongings that I collected secretly. The water bottle she crumpled that was still stained with her lipstick on the lid, the green hairband from last month which had a few strands of her hair still tangled, hmmm.. Still smells like lavender, along with some things like her fingernails, her toothbrush I stole from summer camp, her chewed pen still covered with the scent of her saliva and her pink white napkin stained with her charming snot. I picked up the hair strands from my pocket one by one and shoved them into a small ziplock bag as I labelled it as 'The strands of Bethany's beautiful hair. Details: she studied so hard till they fell out'.