Chapter 10 - Leech

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All day I was stuck inside writing my assignment, putting every last fiber of my being into it.

"To describe it as an obsession, where love becomes a devouring force, is merely the tip of the iceberg. It clings to you like a leech, slowly draining every ounce of vitality."

I grabbed a piece of tape and covered the cameras on both my computer and phone, hoping to find some semblance of peace.

"Oh, so now I'm a leech?" the message read, and I instantly recognized the sender.

Me

Always was one

Babe

That's so cute

Me

That you're a leech?

Babe

No, your insults are cute

Me

Ew


My phone began to ring insistently, and with a reluctant sigh, I finally answered it.

"What do you want?" I muttered, a hint of irritation in my voice.

"Just to talk. I love hearing your voice," came the smooth reply on the other end.

"Well, I don't like talking to you," I retorted, my tone edged with frustration.

"I know, I know. But by now, you must be wondering who I am," they said cryptically.

The mention of identity piqued my curiosity, causing my ears to perk up. I shifted in my chair, and the air suddenly charged with anticipation as I eagerly awaited more details.

"I am"

"Do you have any theories?"

"Well a few"

"Share them," he urged.

"One, you're an old man in someone's basement—" I began, but he cut me off with laughter.

"I'm not an old man."

"Two, you're some psycho who just escaped the mental institution," I continued.

He laughed again, seemingly reveling in the intrigue my thoughts provided. Leaning back into my chair, I delved deeper into my contemplation.

He had mentioned seeing me at a New Year's party notorious for an altercation where someone was beaten to a pulp over a minor collision.

"Three, you go here. You must be near me, but I never notice, and I must have at least seen you."

"So close," he acknowledged.

"You're smart enough to cover your tracks and not reveal yourself to me. It feels like I'm staring at you," I concluded, a shiver running down my spine at the unsettling realization.

"Ah, I'm afraid I won't help you with this one, You gonna figure this one out all on your own"

"Why? Why do I have to figure out who you are? Why not just just show yourself?"

"Why, why, why, because I want you to, simple as that"

"Do you think of this like a game?"

"Sort of, I do love games"

"Am I game to you?"

"No, you my darling, my beautiful wife"

"What if I break all the rules?"

"I think you know what I'll do"

"But what if..."

"If what?"

"What if I escape?" I muttered.

"I'll find you. I've perused all your little notebooks, and I've conducted thorough research on you."

"What if I involve the police?"

"I mean, it'll be futile, but feel free to try."

"Why are you doing this? What's your end goal?"

"Your love, my dear," came the chilling reply, the words dripping with an unsettling intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

It felt like he meant he would snatch my heart out of my chest if it meant he could have my love

"And..." I murmured, sinking into my seat. "And what if I never love you?"

A laugh erupted on the phone, a sinister and unsettling sound.

"Ah, my love, the very reason I breathe. I assure you, you will learn," came the ominous reply.

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