Obsession || h.s [completed]

19 | control

Sociopath

[soh-see-oh-path]

A person with a psychopathic personality whose behavior is antisocial, often criminal, and who lacks a sense of moral responsibility or social concience. Said persons can often mimick human emotions and are very good manipulators.

---

*two weeks later*

I had thrown myself back into my old obsession, using it as a distraction--or maybe even a comfort--from the fear of the murders going on in the town.

Four more had died. They had put in a cerfew as a protective measure, but that didn't stop me from staying with Harry every night. In his arms was the only place I felt safe.

I had forgotten about Hannah and her stupid accusations when I had asked Harry about the padlocked door.

"It's where I keep my hunting gear. It's not safe to keep that lying around." He had said simply.

Somehow it made me feel even more secure, knowing that if there was an intruder, Harry could protect me with his attic full of hunting rifles.

"Mason?" My dad knocks on my door, pulling me out of my deep thought.

"Come in." I say before turning my attention back to the papers and newspaper clippings in front of me, spread across my bed as well as some taped to the wall. My computer browser open to the latest murder case.

"What's all this?" My dad asks as he steps into the room and picks up one of the pages.

He reads a few lines before puting it back on the matress, eyeing the cluster of others on the wall with similar stories and highlight marks. "Mason, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be doing this." My dad says carefully.

"I'm just trying to figure it all out. There's no link between victims. No regulated pattern--except--"

"Mason, doesn't this seem a bit obsessive?"

"I can't just sit here and wait for the next murder like everyone else, praying that it's not me or someone I care about." I sigh. "This is the only way to keep me from going crazy."

He nods as if he understands but I'm unsure if he really does. "Dinner is ready if you want to come down and eat something."

I nod, too lost in my own thoughts to hear him walk back downstairs.

Within the hour, my head is swarming with psychological terms and diagnostics. I pull together what I know and analyze everything. I look up disorders, phobias, psychopathic personalies--everything.

Before I know it, it's midnight and I'm still in the same spot on my bed. And I never went down for dinner.

I roll my shoulders which ache from leaning over the papers on my duvet.

I'm too preoccupied to hear my window slide open and closed again. I don't realize that there's someone in my room until hands rest on my shoulders, making me nearly jump out of my skin.

A laugh comes from behind me. "Sorry, baby, did I scare you?"

"No, shit." I laugh sarcastically and lean my head against his abdomen, glancing up at his face.

Harry's fingers massage the tension out of my shoulders as he smiles. "What are you doing? I got worried when you didn't come. What could possibly be more important than me?" He laughs.

I turn my attention back to my research. "Sorry i must have lost track of time. I've been digging through everything I can find on these recent murders."