Stealing Her

Chapter One - Before

For the record, I do realize that I must be completely insane.

Who in their right mind would do what I'm going to do? I'm definitely insane, but is it truly wrong? She obviously wants this. Strike that. That sounds REALLY rape-y. I'd hate for that to be quoted out of context, but really. Exactly how many stories has Jamie Hendricks written about this particular little fantasy of hers?

Is it so wrong to give her what she obviously desires? Should this carefully thought out plan go south, or should I be caught, I hope that this journal will be given to Jamie, so that she can truly understand that the only reason I acted on these desires was because it's what I honestly believed she desired as well.

Jamie, my love, I wish you only the best and hope that this experience, after the initial shock and obvious horror of it is not traumatic to you. You deserve only the best. That being said, I want you to know how much thought went into this (failed if you are reading this) abduction.

I have been planning tonight for months, but I have been watching you for years. I know – that sounds extremely creepy and I fully recognize that. I'm not trying to say that what I've done (and am going to do) isn't wrong. It is. My main reason for telling you this isn't to scare you, but to make sure you know everything. You deserve that much.

This wasn't an impulsive decision, and my first thought wasn't to rip you away from everything you know. It was innocent. One chance meeting, and then another, that resulted in a curiosity. Once I noticed you, I couldn't STOP noticing you. Suddenly I saw you everywhere. At the grocery store. On the street. At the movies.

I had this overwhelming curiosity when it came to you and I couldn't help listening in when we crossed paths. I started learning little snippets about your life. You'd call one of your friends out when they gossiped about someone they didn't know personally. That taught me that you tried to see the best in people. You didn't make snap decisions and didn't base your opinion on what you heard from others. You weren't like most girls your age. Once, your mom told you not to give up on your father, that he loved you despite how he acted. From that I gathered that you didn't have a good relationship with your father (and that your parents might be divorced) and that it was bad enough that you (someone who saw the best in everyone) were ready to give up on him. Sometimes you hummed along with the music you listened to, always the same tune. It seemed to be something you focused on. A repetitive, slow, sad tune. I could see that it calmed you. Maybe you had anxiety? Order and repetition soothed and calmed you. You also refused to make eye contact when your emotions were high. You were disconnected. That told me the most. You were scared of your own emotions. You didn't want to appear weak even though you appeared on the brink of breaking. You hid your thoughts and feelings from those around you and that made me even more curious.

I think when it really turned into an unhealthy attraction to you was when I happened to see you at a Starbucks one evening. You had your back to a corner, your laptop perched on your legs and your coffee in front of you on the table. You were writing.

Something I find absolutely fascinating is the way your emotions are completely displayed on your face as you write. You don't realize you do it, or you obviously wouldn't write your stories in public. Your cheeks were flushed and your mouth just the slightest bit parted. You'd type for a minute or so, stop and read over what you wrote, and make adjustments. Sometimes you'd stop breathing all together as you read over a passage.

I couldn't help watching your face (as terrified as I was that you'd look up and catch me staring). The curiosity was killing me. I finally decided to grab another coffee and try to catch a glimpse of your screen. You visibly tensed and tilted your screen away when I sat in one of the arm chairs next to you.