Lethal Obsession

3.

You know my name, not my story. You've heard what I've done, but not what I've been through."

- Jonathan Anthony Burkett

Each of us has heaven and hell in him.

- Oscar Wilde

Chapter 3

The whole day the only thing I could think of was his massage. The fact that he made me feel the same way like he was just standing in front of me was so astonishing. His ability to seem dominant and dangerous, even with so few words said, was unreal. However, I was annoyed by his belief that he could do whatever he wanted and that everyone should and would obey his order because his message was exactly that - order.

I wondered what was I supposed to do. I wanted to come to know him better, but everything felt like it was happening too soon. I saw him for the first time in my life last Saturday. The day after, I met him again, and now, he wanted me to hang out with him. I was always careful when I chose people to spend my time with. Despite that, I was on my way to a place I knew nothing about with a guy that had the power to make me submit to his every demand.

What's the worst that could happen?

I spent the whole afternoon in debate whether I should go out with him or not. However, as the date deadline approached, all the worries were put to rest, I was too excited to see him again.

After I finally made my decision, a new problem emerged. I had no idea what to wear. He never revealed the location of the place we would go to, nor did he said If there was a dress code. I almost screamed out of frustration.

I opened my wardrobe trying to find something adequate. Nearly an hour later, I was seated on the floor in front of my closet, eating chips and crying because I still wasn't able to decide what I wanted to put on. I was aware that he would come to pick me up pretty soon, but the frustrating fact that I had nothing to wear got to me.

How can he put a girl in this situation?

I wonder if It was a good idea to send him a message, asking him to help me, nevertheless, I quickly dismissed it. Something told me that I wouldn't receive feedback.

I went that far that I started looking for outfits online, without realizing that I didn't have most of those things they had on.

Right when I was on the verge of breaking down, I heard a quiet click coming from my phone, signifying that I received a message. Mateo wanted me to send him my address. I wasn't sure how I hadn't thought of that before, even though I had been pretty occupied with trying to give myself a panic attack.

Earlier thoughts started popping in my head yet again. It was one thing to give him my number, but should I tell him where I lived? I've always been good at reading people, but with this man, I had no idea what to expect. He definitely didn't seem like the best person in the world, but should I judge someone just because of his appearance? It was against my principles, I couldn't condemn a person without knowing his story.

While I was having my philanthropic discurs, Mateo sent me yet another message.

Tara, don't make me repeat myself. Send me the address of your apartment.

That was exactly what I needed to abide by his demands. Although I indeed didn't know his story, our past encounters were clear indicators that he wasn't the person to be messed with. I quickly responded, sending him my address, and went back to business.

His messages affected me in such a therapeutic way it made all my earlier insecurities seem like they weren't there in the first place. The moment I turned my gaze back to the wardrobe, I found the perfect combination. I settled with black, leather pants with a white shirt tucked into them and, also white ankle boots. In addition, I chose my leather jacket even though I suspected that I would die of hypothermia, considering that it was very cold outside, but I didn't really care, I had this need for us to have matching outfits.