Page 1 of Framed Obsession

Prologue

Dutch Melrose -Match Made In Hell

The moment I saw her, I knew I had to make her mine. It was as if time itself were frozen. Everything else faded to black, and the outside world had gone quiet. I think some sort of unknown force had led me to this place in particular. The fact that I was even contemplating not following through with this outlandish plan has me so fucking glad that I did.

I’ve seen many professionals, if you could even call them that, to help with my—what do they call them… mental disorders? I think I’m fine. Perfect? Fuck no. But fine? You could say that. Sure, I can be an asshole. Selfish, greedy, persistent. But I’m just someone who knows what they want, and doesn't give a fuck about what I have to do to get it.

Psychopathic, that’s what they tell me. Someone with a personality construct characterized by a persistent lack of empathy or remorse. Someone manipulative and impulsive. At least that's what the internet and the psychiatrists say. If someone is a psychopath, do they know they are? Does watching her every move ever since I laid eyes on her make me psychopathic? What about the plan I’ve been constructing to make her feel my presence? To have her be mine forever?

Seems relatively normal to me. If you see something you like, why not go and get it? I mean, stalking in this day and age is more normalized. More subtle. Most hide behind a phone or computer screen, missing the adventure and thrill. It lacks creativity. Most never make a move to get what they want. Just letting time escape them, sitting in wishes and what-ifs.

Me? I started by hacking into everything she owns. Watching her from afar until I learned her routine. Quickly, it became a physical hunt. Stalking her in the flesh is an exhilarating addiction. A screen doesn't do her justice, anyway. She is too fucking beautiful not to watch in person.

I wish I had found her sooner. Fuck fate for making me wait this long.

Parker Raines Therapy Center—the place that changed my life forever. Not because therapy helped me; I’ve only managed one session so far, one painfully excruciating session, but because I laid eyes on her. Unfortunately, it wasn't with the angel that enamored me, but with someone I knew I was going to see again, and not under the circumstances she may have expected. Not that I give a flying fuck.

My eyes are set on one girl, and she is already mine.

Chapter 1

The Flower

Moving the five-step ladder out of the way, I glance at the newly installed camera in the corner of my living room. My dad came over, insisting he help install a few cameras for extra security measures in the apartment where my best friend and I live. I had a feeling that Z and my father conspired against me.

Personally, I hate them. Haven't they seen those disturbing videos online of people having their cameras hacked? I don't want to wake up at 2:00 a.m. with someone speaking into it, saying creepy things, let alone spying on me.

I get chills just thinking about it. My TikTok doomscrolling mentality definitely gave me a new perspective, and it makes me uneasy having them in our apartment. I know, it’s a me issue, but still.

The wave of a big hand blocks my line of sight. Pulling me away from my endless trail of self-sabotage. “Wipe that look off. It's for your own good. I promise,” my father says reassuringly. My face shifts from a disgusted look to an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I know you're just trying to help. I'm able to turn these off and on, right?” I ask with a questioning look. I appreciate their concern, but it makes me feel like I’m not capable of handling myself. As if I need a babysitter.

There have been a few occasions where I’ve been put in an unsafe situation alone. Shortly after I got this new job at Parker Raines Therapy Center, unusual things started happening to me. Objects seem to be consistently out of place, just enough to make me think I'm going insane. Maybe I am. Maybe this is my mind giving up on me finally, or maybe I’m just paranoid.

One time when I was walking to my car after work, and found my driver's seat door wide open. I knew I hadn't left it that way because I always double-check and set my car alarm.

I immediately phoned my dad, and he rushed over to make sure everything was safe. It was, thankfully. We had scanned the car to see if anything had been stolen, and oddly, nothing was. It’s like my quiet, slow life picked up and said au revoir.

Ever since, I’ve had this chilly feeling that I'm being watched, and it has been getting progressively worse. Maybe psychosis is trickling into my life for some unknown reason, causing me to hallucinate.

Being a little paranoid is okay, Dahlia; it keeps us safe.

When I’m alone, movements seem to catch in the corner of my eye, but when I turn, nothing is there. Like a shadow is following me. Sometimes I joke around and say it's a ghost to keep my anxiety at bay. Would I rather have a ghost haunt me than have a man make me feel unsafe? Yep, I’d rather choose the ghost.

It’s like that saying. “Would you rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear?” And every time, we women pick the bear. Men are scary. Not that bears aren’t, but I’m sure you catch my drift.

“Dahlia, did you catch all that? Remember this is the button you need to press in case of an emergency.” My dad pulls me out of my coursing thoughts again, pointing to a giant red button at the bottom of the page on my phone. I give a gentle smile and nod.

He explains all the ins and outs of the software, what type of cameras they are, and all the technology mumbo-jumbo that goes with it. Will I remember any of this? Probably not, but that's what dads are for anyway. He is always just a phone call away. He gets really excited about this kind of stuff anyway, so I’m sure he’d love to conjure excuses just to talk about it.

My father will take any chance he gets to be there for me. I’m grateful, don't get me wrong, but it can be a little exhausting at times. He consistently calls and checks in ever since I moved out.

It took me months of pleading and being a golden child to convince him that I would be fine moving in with Zoe when we were in college. Talk about a helicopter parent. I give him grace, though. Being a single parent who has to be both mom and dad to a girl is tough. Faced with the chaos of hormones, my father's only strategy is to toss me in a castle tower and lock me away forever.

I’m 30 years old; I’ve experienced a lifetime of events. Some good and some bad. I’ve honestly seen and dealt with some shit that people shouldn't have to go through at such a young age. But every event shapes who you are, and I’m proud of the person I am becoming, even if she is a little flawed.

The apartment Z and I found is in the city. I wanted a place where there is a lot of street and foot traffic. The more people around, the less chance of anything bad happening, right? At least that was part of my convincing. Not only to my father but also to myself.