Obsessive Control ( Under publishing contract )

Nobody 1%

"My passion for you is a delicious pain, an obsession I don't want to escape."

I started following her, trying to find out who she was. Since I often give lectures at this university, I realized, seeing her burst into the classroom, that this girl had taken a law course as an elective. A backup plan for her career as an artist is a good idea.

Good for her, and for me. Each class is a new opportunity to understand her better.

From time to time, I saw her in the hallways without getting too close, though sometimes I bumped into her to get her attention. She didn't seem interested in me. I tried to speak to her, but whenever she stood in front of me, I froze, unable to move or speak. I'm much taller than her, towering over her, yet her round face and bright, wide eyes fascinated me to the point of helplessness. Whenever I had free time, I went to her campus, if only to catch a glimpse of her.

She wasn't even in the department where I taught. As a result, I had to go to a different building to admire the little puppy that occupied my thoughts. I must make her mine.

Our eyes met on numerous occasions, but she almost always looked away immediately. Did I scare her? A new feeling stirred inside me. Usually, when I fixate on a target, I get bored quickly. Unsatisfied, I couldn't feel that rush of ecstasy anymore. I had to rediscover that feeling I had lost; otherwise, I was nothing but an empty shell.

I must learn more about this divine creature. Her name—what is her name? With such a sweet face, her name must match her fine, delicate features. Continuing to discreetly follow her across the courtyard, I avoided the gazes of overly curious students. Some girls even dared to approach me during my pursuit, but I evaded them, offering only an annoyed smile in response. I don't have time for this nonsense!

I saw her sitting outside near a tree, a book in her hand. The very one I had recommended for the next class. How beautiful she is... Maybe I should try talking to her again?

Sometimes, I followed this girl, so intriguing to me, all the way to the art studio. That's where she let herself go, where she became herself in front of her canvas. My God, she's beautiful!

I know that at 10:15, she has a three-hour gap before her next class. And I know she always spends that time in the school's art studio.

Leaving my office, I headed, as usual, to the art room to watch her paint. I stopped, hiding near the door, and saw the canvas she had been working on for several days, nearly complete. On a nearby chair lay a bag, with a vibrating phone on top of it. The room was empty today. Where had she gone? Were these her things, carelessly placed?

Checking to make sure no one was coming, I entered and closed the door behind me. The sound of it would warn me if anyone came in.

I looked more closely at her painting. I didn't particularly care for art, but it was clear she had a gift. My gaze shifted from the painting to the phone sitting on her bag. It lit up, revealing a wallpaper: her, with a boy whose cheek she was kissing. Who was he? Was he her boyfriend?

I picked up the phone and slid the screen upward. It unlocked. A smile crossed my face. She's far too naïve.

Browsing through her messages, I found she spoke with very few men, just one with whom she exchanged emojis and pictures of her paintings. Replacing the phone, I opened her bag, glancing again at the door. There wasn't much of interest inside, just a chaotic mess. I grabbed a set of keys with color-coded labels: yellow for the "front door," red for the "bedroom door," blue for the "wooden door," green for the "main entrance."