Obsession

Chapter 1

It had never occurred to me that so many forbidden and unimaginable desires lurked beyond the veil of existence. For years, I had suffered in ignorance of this revelation, allowing my forgotten appetites to rot away within the depths of my blood. Although blind within the darkness, these cravings desperately longed to be observed. But now they stirred. Now they danced gracefully on the surface of my sanity, having floated up from depths unexplored.

You can be assured that the words I speak about the unpredictable brutality of my nature are sincere. I also wish you to understand that I do not consider myself to be mad.

The following recollection may inspire you to open your eyes to the secrets I am now accustomed to. You may even share the same notions and illicit urges as I do. We are all creatures of flesh, you see.

'Open your eyes.'

I use these words with a sense of irony, as it was only yesterday that I removed my own eyes with a broken piece of glass. It hurt like hell. But pain is merely a sensation, and there are worse things to endure than that. What's important to note is that any sane person would have done the same thing as me under the right circumstances. You will likely gather from my story that I am probably not that much different from you and that we may share a few things in common.

Growing up, I was privy to a relatively normal lifestyle. As a child, nothing about my upbringing was notably different to most, and I was raised in a fairly decent neighbourhood. A mixture of young families and pensioners filled my estate's mid-terrace and semi-detached houses. It was a rather dull place to live. I found it challenging to make friends and always preferred my own company to that of others. My parents tended to leave me to my own devices. They were quite satisfied that I would rather stay home reading books and playing video games instead of running around outdoors in the fresh air. At school, my classmates disregarded me, which suited me fine as I didn't have much to say to anyone. The mundane life I had become accustomed to continued through adolescence until my parents finally decided to move into retirement care. They couldn't wait till I was old enough to take over the family home. It was almost as though they were glad to be rid of me. As if I was some kind of burden to them. With my parents gone and with bills mounting up below the letterbox, I began searching for employment and managed to find a suitable role working behind a computer screen. After a while, I faded into the background of life's canvas, and nothing ever seemed to happen out of the ordinary. Until last year, that is.

A young couple moved in next door; a tall blonde woman and a short but rather stocky-looking man who looked much too old for his partner. She was miles out of his league, young, pretty and someone who carried a certain air of grace with her. On the other hand, he had the appearance of an untamed pit-bull terrier. Intimidating and aloof, he would race around in his fancy car and designer tracksuits as though he owned the place. I fancied that she was attracted more to his wallet than anything else he had to offer.

Within a few months of their arrival, several complaints were reported to the police about the frequent heated and drunken rows that would exhale from that house at night like a disgusting smell. However, their arguments never bothered me, and I soon became transfixed with their regular altercations. I would skulk in the silence of my bedroom every Friday night for the evening's entertainment to commence. It usually commenced with the husband storming home from the pub close to midnight with a cold fish supper for his beloved wife. She would pretend to be asleep at first, but she couldn't keep that charade up for very long. He would soon grow bored and slam the bedroom door closed before stomping down the stairs. And I would wait patiently because I knew that hubby would burst back in through that door only moments later. That's when the real fun would begin.

I always had to cover my mouth to conceal my rising laughter when she finally reacted to his taunts. She would stand up for herself occasionally, but he was much too powerful for her. Sometimes I would hear him angrily force-feeding her that cold fish supper as she pleaded with him to stop. The sounds of flesh being slapped and the crunch of fists on the wall would typically mark the crescendo of the evening. And I would lurk on the other side of that wall, biting my fist in absolute elation as I overheard the violence unfolding.

From what I could gather, the husband was convinced his wife was sleeping with everyone on the street whilst he was out at the pub. I would cackle in elation at this; clearly, he didn't know the neighbourhood very well. The only exciting thing to happen in recent years was the old guy across the road shouting at some local kids that had kicked a ball into his beloved garden. And even that was grounds for the police to be notified. Everyone seemed blissfully unaware of reality's surreptitious songs, which now offered me my regular weekly fix.

Sure, I had watched my fair share of horror movies and crime documentaries, but this was very different. This was happening right next door, and I would ache in anticipation every day and night until the weekend finally arrived. But eventually, like so many other glorious things in our lives we take for granted, it all came to an end.

One Friday evening, my neighbours were fighting again whilst I loitered in my usual position with my ear pushed tightly against the wall. But as I sat there completely naked and concupiscent, I soon realised that things were getting unusually fiery on this particular occasion. Their shouting was growing louder and angrier by the second. The rising intensity of this new level of aggression matched my emerging arousal, and I shook with delight at the beautiful sounds of this somewhat volatile interaction. Their argument eventually transferred out of the bedroom, and I could hear the wife screaming that she was leaving her husband. He bellowed furiously in response and raced down the stairs after her. A flurry of heavy slaps and angry undecipherable shouts echoed through the wall as they brawled on the stairs. I shrieked in absolute euphoria at this. Finally, the front door slammed open, and I raced over to the window, absolutely thrilled at the delights I would soon be able to witness.

Upon sneaking my head between the curtains, I saw that almost every other neighbour was following suit. Curious eyes peered out of high windows at the rain-filled streets below. The volatile nature of the couple's relationship spared no detail for their audience as that house spat them out onto the road like guts from a rotten stomach. They wrestled in the garden, bellowing obscenities at each other as onlookers watched from the safety of their own darkened bedrooms. Usually, the husband's physicality would overpower his wife, but he was in a particularly drunken state that evening.

Consequently, she held her own and fought with venomous aggression to knock him to the floor as everyone watched silently. Like any other person would have done, I attempted to pleasure myself at the spectacle, but much to my annoyance, the police soon arrived on the scene to spoil the fun. Sighing in frustration at the closure of the evening's entertainment, I eventually retired to my bed and was soon fast asleep.