An Unhealthy Obsession

Rule Seven

-------

(Y/N)'s Complete Guide to Achieving Success

Rule Seven of Ten:

'Indulgence isn't always a bad thing.'

-------

You were looking through the last catalogue you had brought home, and you still hadn't managed to find exactly what you were looking for.

Each ones pages seemed fruitless, the glossy paper doing not good at displaying the exact object you were after.

Or if you were to say it properly, objects.

You had a large shiny catalogue balanced on one knee, journal on the other, and you were constantly flickering from one to the other to search for exactly what you were looking for down the last detail.

Sat on your bed, pyjamas on, the moon already high in the sky, you scoured over the stack of information in front of you. Flicking from page to page, book to book, to see if they were offering the 'oh so simple' device you were after.

And that was a walkie talkie.

If you had told your classmates at school that you were spending your saved money on a such a contraption, you would have gotten no less than a chorus of laughter and some strange glances.

Of course it is not what every seventeen year old girl is after.

Most people on the street would assume you wanted clothes, make up, records, cassettes or even things like cigarettes or alcohol.

Not a walkie talkie, out of all things available on the planet.

Society, and the prison of a school you attend, saw that as something for...some professions, little kids, or the weirdo spotty guys who wear worn t-shirts with nerdy jokes and have their whole lives consumed by history knowledge. Or even army officers, or pilots.

Not you.

Not when you were living in a flat in a city, the phone only a couple long strides out of your room and down the hall.

But you had much bigger plans for the device you were about the purchase.

In your own way it would be just as fun as listening to a record or watching a film.

In it's own way it would resemble a movie, a song.

In it's own way it would lead you that little bit closer to your dreams.

To him.

You held up the catalogue to the dim light coming from your bedside light, the pages shimmering.

There it was.

Page sixty three.

Three down from the top on the right.

You nodded to yourself while reading, it finally looked like you had found a good catch.

Three mile radius.

Battery powered.

Fairly cheap.

If you could even dare call it that.

But it was compared to some, those you had just moved on to the next page without reading the rest of the description, you didn't have a lot to give away.

You had never had a lot to begin with.

The money you were going to use rested in an old jam jar under you bed, the lid dusty and stale form years of you not touching it.