Obsidian Hearts: I

Three: Wrong On All Scales

Pronunciation of Clotilde/ kluh. teel. duh

— Sable Rae

I could differentiate between right and wrong.

People have moral values; that is, they accept standards according to which their conduct is judged as either right or wrong, good or evil.

It varies to some extent from individual to individual. Some norms, such as not to kill, not to steal, and to honor one's parents, are widespread and perhaps universal, but value judgments concerning human behavior are passed in all cultures.

Now there are certain things that you know you'll be looked down upon for. Specifically— I wasn't supposed to be okay with knowing that I have a stalker.

I wasn't supposed to be okay with being stalked and I certainly wasn't supposed to feel excitement from it.

I started noticing two months ago, it was a few days after my birthday. I get hot very easily during the night so I'll always leave a small crack in the window. I didn't think anything of it because my room is far up from the ground so there was no way someone could be getting in.

I guess I was mistaken.

He'd leave this tobacco and whiskey smell behind that I've become quite accustomed to. He'd never touch me or say anything; he'd just stare. I could feel his eyes on me. Always.

I had no idea who he was or what he looked like, honestly I liked the mystery behind it all.

I never made it aware that I knew he was here in fear that he'd stop coming. As crazy as it might sound, I actually enjoy his presence. I mean at first it was frightening, but I guess that sheltered part of me wanted to venture into unknown territory, even if that did persist in letting a potential murderer into my life.

My mother would be ashamed.

Tonight my mystery man actually touched me. His rough thumb cascaded over my lips and I couldn't help but part them. He'd pulled away all too soon just as the butterflies in my tummy started to swarm.

The dip in my bed evened out as he got up. I heard the footfalls of his boots against the floor and I peaked to be met with his back. He was staring at my awards collection.

I took the time to look at him, my fingers bunched into my covers tightly. I wanted to scream 'look at me' but then what? What would happen after that?

I don't think I'm ready to find out.

For now I'll admire what I don't know. I'll stick to letting him sneak in through my window, watching me every night until he gets tired. Eventually— hopefully he'll leave. I say hopefully because if he doesn't I'll just fall deeper into whatever hole there is being dug out by this weird situation we have going on.

It's wrong on all scales.

I was holding my breath. Time was ticking and he stayed longer tonight than he'd done any other. It was almost 4:40 and I had to be up at five. No sleep on a Monday morning, what a horrible way to start off the week.

He stayed a few minutes longer before turning to leave. I closed my eyes so as to not get caught— listening to him retreat from my room. The soft click of my window followed behind and just to be sure I waited a few seconds more before opening my eyes again. I sat up, throwing my legs off the edge of the bed. Taking quiet steps towards the window I looked out at our backyard. There was no way he was climbing up here without some assistance...