Chapter 17:

Obsession

Cecelia stayed by me until my head calmed down. Thinking on those memories caused my head to ache, but I now knew them. I had selective amnesia mixed with some dissociative amnesia. That blow to my head, seeing her kill those men, and then losing the only friend I felt good around was a heavy hit to my memory of that time.

It explained a lot of why my sense of time and memories just all seemed to blend together. Cecelia explained to me how she cherished those days together with me. It was brief, but to her it meant the world. I felt bad for not being as aware back then, and even worse for forgetting.

"Don't worry," Cecelia brushed the hair from my eyes, "It was better that way...You were hurt because of me. Dragging you into that world...I couldn't do that to you."

"But-" I tried to speak up, but she simply held a finger to my lips.

"Shush, let me talk," Raising an eyebrow at me, she looked amused, "Things weren't...great. My family are trained from birth to be the best. To see to that...my father was abusive."

I listened with a heavy heart as she told me about how she was trained every day in the art of combat, business, etiquette, and other things those of high society needed to know. If she failed, her father would beat her. He was abusive even to her mother.

He had plans to use them all. He wasn't part of the family, but had married in. He grew controlling. Those were his men that day. She had been running away, hiding. They found her, and when they saw me, they tried to take me out of the picture. Use me against her.

They threatened to kill me if she didn't listen.

"That's when I snapped," She smiled, laughing as if it was the best moment in her life, "Honestly, they really underestimated me...and now they're dead. Laying hands on you. Threatening you. That man wouldn't get away with it."

The look in her eyes told me all I needed to know. A fervor in them that told me she was excited at the prospect of killing those men. Killing her father.

"Oh, how he begged," She smiled sadistically, "His blood trailed the halls of our home. He had raised me a killer, thinking he could control me. He begged until the very end."

It was the first time I ever saw her take pleasure in killing someone. It was both terrifying and arousing.

"At this point...why do I even question what's wrong with me? I'm in love with a yandere," Reaching out, I grabbed her hand and smiled.

"I'm glad he's not around to harm you or your family anymore," And I was, the fact he had been around for so long, and harmed her in anyway made me angry.

Her eyes took me in, a wry smile on her face.

"Yes, so am I," She stated calmly, but grew somber as she continued, "That life...wasn't for you. I'm sorry I didn't do more. You lived a poor life, and I could have done something. I-"

"Cecelia," I shushed her, "Don't do that. Blaming yourself...even if you could, you had reasons, I'm sure."

"...How are you like this?" She looked at me quizzically, "You know I'll never let you go, right?"

"...And?" I chuckled, shaking my head, "I'm like this because...I have to be. I blame myself every day for my past. The things people did to me. I blame myself. I know I do wrong, and make mistakes, but I know I can't be held responsible for everything, and neither can you."

"Well, those people won't be harming you anymore," She held my hand firmly, her hand on my cheek petting me protectively. The deadliness in her eyes, and the coldness of her tone sent shivers through my body.

"Fuck...that's hot," My breathing quickened as I tried to compose myself.

"I simply watched," She told me, her tone relaxing slightly, "Made things a bit easier, but...I thought you'd be happier. Instead, all of them...they hurt you. I had to hurt them. You're delicate. They didn't handle you with the proper care."

Shifting around on the bed I laid in; I gripped the covers to ground myself. What she was saying was definitely scary, or at least it should be. I only felt myself even more attracted to her. Though, I wasn't sure how I felt about being called delicate.

"I mean...she's not wrong," I was a very sensitive person, withdrawing into my mind at the slightest inconvenience.

She watched me all this time, and everything just made sense. From her knowing all my tics and stims to the things that overstimulate me. From materials and textures, to foods and smells. She knew it all.

"I thought many times to reveal myself," She looked upon me fondly, "However, instead I contented myself with pictures of you and objects you misplaced or lost."

"Right...lost," I made air quotes, teasing her around the word.

"Ahem, well...yes, technically..." Clearing her throat, she blushed, unapologetic in her blatant theft, "Still, it was only ever things you'd never miss."

"Ha, fair enough," Looking off into the room, I truly began to cement myself in this reality.

"However, when that...thing, did something so cruel, I had enough," Her demeanor became tense, deadly as she referred to my most recent ex, "I decided it was time. I would make you mine. No more would you be hurt. No more would you live the life you've lived. I could no longer just watch."

Her arms enveloped me, pulling me close. I took in her soft, subtle smell. It was relaxing, arousing. Her hands ran along my body, holding me to her.

"You're mine now, and I'll never let anyone, or anything, harm you again," Her words held weight, a finality to them, "To be honest, I was afraid you'd resent me. Fear kept me from you, but I no longer could let that stop me. I will never let you go again."

Wrapping my arm over hers, I was content and happy in this moment. Looking up at her, I smiled lovingly, "Please...never do."

Lust took over us both in that moment. She pulled my face up to hers, kissing me deeply and passionately. Her hands more aggressive than ever before. They tore at my clothes, made me shiver in ecstasy. Our bodies entwined together, panting, sweating.

She claimed me, truly, and I was thoroughly hers. A passion. An obsession. Her husband.

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