Blue Mansion : Deadly & Obsessive

Prologue

Come to the penthouse. I've got something to show you. [10:53PM]

The message came, but I'd only read it later after I was done with my shift. My job as a librarian, sometimes requires me to work in oddly hours. It used to terrify me, working in the night shift, with a library that no one visits after the sun has set.

But two years later, I've grown pretty accustomed to the dreary feeling of silence.

Nothing to fear, Rue. It's just books and you, I told myself as I crossed the room and switched off all electricity in the room. I pushed open the door, and locked it before shoving the keys into the key box which only facilitators have access to in the morning for opening.

Damyan's message sends a shrill of giddiness in me that's difficult to put into words.

He was the first man I'd ever gotten intimate with, and the first of my everything. Though, he could be grumpy and ill-temper, but he would never direct those towards me.

I hopped down the street, couple blocks after the library building. The place Damyan rents wasn't too far from the university, and it's my personal favourite spot. Ever since he'd allowed me to furnished the place as I see fit, it was the only place I'd hung out.

Even when he wasn't around.

I had the extra keys with me as I pressed on the elevator, and waiting for it. It came within minutes, as expected from a high-end student dormitory. Especially since he'd rented the penthouse floor.

I had the luxury of using the special elevator that only goes up to his floor.

Damyan had a gathering with his batchmates, something that I'm used to. And though he'd decline the invitation just to spend time with me in the library, till I was done with my night shift – I didn't want to restrained him from enjoying his youthful days.

I got into the elevator and pressed the keycard into the reader before leaning onto the wall and wait for it to ascend. With the soft jazzy music accompanying the silent ride.

Like the name suggests, Damyan wasn't local. He was Russian. And an exchanged student in his final years. Truthfully, getting acquainted with Damyan was nothing but coincidence, since we studied different courses.

But he insisted it was fate that had us intertwined.

Who would have believed that a man like him, would believe in fate? I surely didn't.

On the outside, Damyan had the looks of a fierce panther. Always dressed in block suites of dress-shirt and pants. His hair combed sleekly and a scowl adorned on his face.

I would have thought the look would have people running from him. Instead, it seemed to attract women like bees with honey.

I was one of them. I fancied his look, he was...astonishingly beautiful. But out of my league. So, I settled as an admirer from the sidelines. It didn't bother me that he didn't noticed people.

He was too wrapped around his own world. And no women or men could seem to attract his attention.

Until we'd met. At the school bar. I guess my world turned into nothing but a swirl of unpredicted memories. We hooked up right away, which I didn't regret.

And we got along just fine after he'd confessed.

I smiled at the memories. I miss him, I told myself.

The elevator dings and I hopped out of it. I unlocked the door, not so surprised to see the lights in his living space turned off. And across it, the kitchen was how I'd remembered it to be from the morning.

"Damyan!" I called out, flinging my bag onto the kitchen counter before I hastily hopping to the hallway where the rooms were. I strode towards his bedroom, eagerly to find him lay on his bed, probably with his shirt undone and drowsy from the drinks he'd had with his batchmates.

Without a knock, I'd pushed open the door, grinning foolishly before my eyes widened at the sight before me.

A man's bare back was on display as he thrusts his hips with each grunt released. His hair is ruffled, a mess from his usual neatly combed hair. And underneath him, was . She moans, matching his every thrusts.

Her legs wrapped around his wrist, bringing him closer as he groans deeply, muttering incoherently.

My eyes watered at the sight, and my body was stilled. Like a stack of weight had been poured over me. I chocked silently on my own breathing, as tears begam to stream down my cheeks.

My vision was especially pinned on a particular tattoo on his arm. The one where he and I had one tone, to commemorate our relationship. He'd promised he'll never had it removed.

I was it, for him. He made me vowed the same.

But I was too stupid, too naïve to believe that a man of his calibre would ever settle with a girl like me.

When he fell onto her, with her dainty long nails wrapped him in an embrace, I knew I had to leave.

The sound of crashing was loud and clear at my ears. Nothing was broken. Just my heart.

So I ran. I took my bag and slammed the door behind me.

In the elevator, with my trembling fingers, I'd sent him a message. It would be the last thing I'll say to him. The last time he'd see this number.

Dear Damyan, I get it. I've seen enough. Thank you for showing me, instead of telling me. It's clear that we aren't meant to be. And so, let me disclose this before you do. I'm breaking up with you.

There's no need to look for me, or feel sorry. I've seen enough. And I know what you're capable. We aren't meant to be. Yet, I'd like to thank you for all the memories we've made.

With this, this is final, and my goodbye to you.

⌜ To be continued... ⌟

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