Fractured Fire and Ice

Sick Thoughts

She was mine.

The only question was how long I could wait to make that fact a reality.

I stood there, my eyes narrowing as I considered the possibilities. My hand still hovered over my phone, her name glowing back at me, daring me to take the next step. But the rational part of me—the one that had kept me in check for so long—whispered caution.

But it was fading. Fading fast.

I could almost picture it: Lily, her resolve crumbling under the weight of my presence, those wide, uncertain eyes fixed on me as she finally understood what I had always known. She was mine, and there was no escaping it. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down my spine, a sick sense of satisfaction that twisted in my chest.

How long had it been since I felt this? This *need* to possess, to consume someone so completely that their very existence revolved around me?

Too long.

The darker part of me—the one I had spent years keeping under control—stirred, clawing its way to the surface with every passing second. It whispered sweet promises of domination, of watching her bend to my will, of taking every ounce of her freedom and shaping it into something that only I could control.

*She’ll never see it coming.*

And why would she? She was so innocent, so *naive*. Lily had no idea that her life had already been altered the moment she stepped into my office. She thought this was just a job, that she was merely an intern in my company. But I had plans—plans that extended far beyond the professional.

My mind began to work, crafting the intricate web that I would spin around her. Each step carefully planned, each moment orchestrated to ensure that by the time she realized what was happening, it would be too late. There would be no escape.

She would be entangled in me, utterly dependent on my whims, on my moods, on my needs.

But I couldn’t rush it. Not yet. As much as I craved the satisfaction of seeing her break, there was something to be said about the anticipation. The waiting—the gradual unraveling of her defenses—would make the moment even sweeter.

I could already imagine it: Lily, slowly succumbing to the inevitable, her body trembling with fear and confusion, her breath quickening as she tried to make sense of the emotions I would elicit in her. The look on her face when she realized that, despite the fear, there was something in her that wanted this—wanted *me*.

My pulse quickened at the thought.

I could wait for that. I could savor the process.

The first step was simple enough. Draw her closer. Pull her into my orbit, and make her believe that she was the one with the power. Let her feel comfortable, like she could trust me. Once she was lulled into a false sense of security, that’s when I would strike. That’s when I would take everything.

I sat back down at my desk, my fingers tracing the edge of the phone, her name still displayed on the screen. It would be easy to call her back, to summon her with some fabricated excuse just to see her one more time.

But no. I had to play this right.

There would be no calling her. Not yet.

Instead, I would watch. I would observe her every move, take in every detail, every nervous glance, every word she spoke. I would know her better than she knew herself, and when the time came to pull the strings, I would know exactly how to make her dance.

Lily Carson wouldn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late.

A twisted smile curved my lips as I finally set the phone down. This wasn’t just about want. It was about control. It was about *possession*. And once I started down this path, there would be no turning back.

Not for me.

And certainly not for her.