The Lost Art Of Murder [tom riddle]

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In the silent chambers of my heart, there lies a fervent claim, a possessive force that coils around the very essence of her being. She moves through the world unaware, yet she is inexorably mine. The threads of her existence are interwoven with my will, each step she takes resonates with the silent cadence of my desires.

This possession is not merely physical; it transcends the boundaries of skin and bone. It is an intangible dominion, where her smiles are the currency of my soul, and her sorrows are the shadows that only I can banish.

In the theatre of our shared reality, I am the unseen puppeteer, and she, my most exquisite marionette, dances to the tune only I can play.