Call It An Obsession ⊷ Brendon Urie || Book 1

Epilogue

I grasped the small journal in my hand, flipping it back and forth. It was all I had left to remember him by, other than my sick memories that haunted me throughout every hour of the day.

Everything I had cherished was gone. My father had died when I was a baby, my brother had left and never returned, and my mother was killed by a psychotic teacher. I had no one. Nothing.

Not even my innocence.

But this little book, it made me understand. It made me understand what was wrong with him, why he kept switching emotions, actions, personalities.

There was something wrong with him.

When I had first found the book, I was confused. Why would he have left it in my house? Maybe he knew. Maybe he had some idea that I was going to try to rebel against him. I didn't know the answer, but what I knew for sure was that he had wanted me to find it.

Inside, it was like a journal, a diary, on fragmented terms, but definitely so much more.

He had every single thought that ever graced his brain written down in this book. This thick, leather bound, barely held together little book.

He had everything in here. Everything he'd ever done to the ones who's caught his eye. Back before Sarah. A time before Sarah which I hadn't even known had existed. There was Caitlyn, Lindsey, Angelica, Francesca, Jaclyn. He had obsessions with all of these women.

He wrote every detail of their bodies, not just sexually, but emotionally. The way they moved, acted, talked, thought. The way that they needed to be with him. The way that he loved them. The way that he was sure that they were his.

He wrote back and forth about these weird moments when he would black out, and suddenly, each girl would change. They would become untrusting, scared, violent, emotional, or worst of all... dead. All of them, now, including Sarah. All of them, except me.

He had multiple pictures of these women, some degrading, some not. He had diagrams of their homes, their blood types, strands of their hair, their skin, strange facts about them that only someone like him would know. Someone obsessed.

Now, I'm not saying that it isn't extremely creepy and overdone, but I'm also saying that he wasn't psychotic or sick, he was just mentally ill.

When I got to my chapter, I had to take a break. I couldn't bare to open it just yet, in that moment. I was already in tears, and sick to my stomach from every chapter before now. From what had happened to these innocent, undeserving girls.

But my curiosity got the best of me, and ruined me completely in the long run.

He had near to thousands of facts about me scrawled across each page. Multiple locks of my hair, copies of my birth records, samples of my blood. A description of every way my body moved and reacted to everything that he was. Pictures of myself that I hadn't even known existed. He wrote down his detailed plans to have me all to himself. He had passports and airplane tickets for the two of us, and layouts for the murder of everyone who stood in our way.

I ended up sick, puking for four hours that night due to everything I had witnessed.

Now I keep the book safely clutched to my chest, as I make my long journey down to somewhere far away.

I was leaving, trying to put the past behind me. I didn't know for sure where I was headed to, but I knew that I wasn't staying. I needed to start fresh.

I just wished it would have never ended up this way.

I mean, I still felt bad for having to kill the poor guy. Brendon. All he wanted was my love, although I didn't have much love for him anymore.

And what was his love anyways? It wasn't even love, truly. If there were any word I could truly use to describe what he had for me, and all the other girl, I guess I'd just call it an obsession.