His Psychotic Obsession

Chapter one

Death-The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism. 

Elara 

If I told you my work life didn't take up 90% of my life. I'd be lying. Working a 28-hour shift was not only physically exhausting but also takes a toll on your mental health.

Walking out of the OR, taking the scrub off of my head, the all-what familiar feeling of relief racks my body. Don't get me wrong, I love saving lives. It's the whole reason I became a surgeon. But being on your feet for almost 30 hours was tiring.

I tiredly walk through the now almost empty halls. I glance up at the clock that hangs neatly on the wall.

2:33 am.

I huff and continue my walk through the hospital, making my way to the changing room, while smiling tiredly in return to my coworker's greetings.

Walking into the changing room, I walk to my locker and yank it open, already beginning to take off my scrubs.

I grab my black skirt, blouse, and converse from earlier and throw them aside on the bench behind me.

I pull my pants off first, then my shirt, and replace them with my other clothes.

I grab my bag and stuff my scrubs into it so I can wash them when I get home.

Finally, I pull on and tie my converse, then begin to make my way out of the changing room and into the hall.

"Bye Elara! Have a good night!" Clara, the receptionist says, smiling warmly at me.

"Thank you, you too," I reply, returning her smile.

I smile in relief as I step outside, breathing in the cold, fall air.

That feeling doesn't last long when I realize I have to walk across the street into the parking garage.

I groan and pick up my feet, starting the all too familiar walk to my car.

I hum to keep myself distracted from the darkness and eerily feeling of the silence.

My humming stops as I reach the ally to my right. The sounds of voices fill my ears. Two voices.

Now normally I'm not a nosy person, I swear. But for some reason, my feet seemed to carry me closer.

The voices got louder as I crept closer. The sound of sobbing and pleading reached my ears. My eyes widened and without a second thought, I pulled my pepper spray out of my bag, clutching it in my hand as I leaned on the wall, peaking my head around the corner to see the people.

A 6ft muscular man stood peering down over another man on his knees. Blood spewing out of the man's nose on his knees made my eyes widen.

"I'm gonna ask you this one more time Ricardo. Where are the figli?" The man looking down at the man on the ground asked, his deep voice sending chills down my spine.

"I'm not telling you shit!" The man on the ground yelled, then spit at the other man's shoes.

The man tsked. "You really shouldn't have done that. I'll get my answers one way or another. You are nothing but another dead weight on my shoulders waiting to be thrown off." A deep rumble vibrated through his chest as he chuckled.

Since it was dark, I couldn't see the features of either man's faces. But I felt the fear radiating off of Ricardo, as the man called him.

"No! wait! wait! I can get you money! Please!" The man sobbed.

"you've wasted my patience, Ricardo. Send your wife my regards will ya?"

Before I could even blink, a pop bounced off the walls of the ally.

A gasp slipped through my lips, and I backed up as the man's lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.

I hadn't realized how loud my gasp was.

Because the man who just shot Ricardo, snapped his head up, and fiery blue eyes met my hazel ones.

With no hesitation, I ran. As fast as my feet could carry me, the cold wind nipping at my face only motivated me to run faster.

I could distantly hear the sound of running steps behind me.

A glance behind me was enough to have me shit myself.

The man was chasing after me, with the gun still clenched firmly in his hand.

Frustrating tears strolled down my face as I rounded the parking lot. My car came into view, and I quickly pulled the keys out of my pocket, unlocking it.

I yanked my car door open and practically jumped into my car, locking all the doors.

With shaky hands I jam my keys into the ignition and turn, starting my car. I look out my windshield, my heart leaped in my throat as I struggled to gather air into my lungs.

The man stands there, not 10 feet away from me, gun still in his hand. Now that I can fully see him, I scan his features. He looks young. Early twenties if I had to guess. Raven air, blue eyes, sharp jawline, perfect nose, plump lips, lean figure.

Our eyes connect, and a fiery emotion I can't figure out runs in his eyes.

My lips part, and the hand on my keys freezes. Time stops.

He studies me, the hand on his gun slowly relaxing.

For a moment I forgot I just witnessed him murder someone. And that I was running for my life, afraid of being next.

Fear and Anger crash into me. I pull the shift into drive and step on the gas, nearly missing the man.

I look in my rearview, to see him still standing there, but this time--he's smirking.

Fear grips my chest as I turn onto the road, heading for the highway.

Whoever he was. I doubt I'll ever see him again. I'll be okay.

I hope.