Sociopath's Obsession(2)

I was not that generous.

No one knew about it; no one knew my name. They only knew a nickname.

Sociopath.

And those who received an e-mail with that name knew the end was coming.

It was part of my high, to watch them for weeks being cautious, uneasy, and frightened of every step. They knew why they would suffer.

Life was fucking great.

It thrilled me.

And I never wanted more.

Women were interchangeable, and I only used them when I needed a cover.

I never wanted to touch them, never wanted them to touch me. Fucking hated any physical contact with them longer than what was necessary. I never allowed them to touch my dick, or any other part of my body. I had to learn how to please them, so they wouldn't try any stupid moves.

Sex was a chore, a necessary weapon to use when information or access was needed. Nothing more, nothing less.

Until I met her.

Meeting her changed something inside me, and my control snapped.

She was a target, just like everyone else. One touch from her, and she became my everything.

Instead of being repulsed by her, I yearned to touch her, and for her to become undone under me. My head was filled with images of our bodies covered in sweat when she was spread on the mattress in my dungeon, her body covered in my bite marks of ownership.

I never wanted to hurt her, but I wanted to own her. Brand her as mine for the world to see and accept me as I was.

She had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen; it was like looking into the clear blue sky.

They were warm and beautiful.

Sapphire.

My Sapphire.

If I were a better man, I would have left her alone and never made her part of my life.

But I was a monster.

And monsters didn't have hearts.





The event bored me out of my mind, as always. I almost rolled my eyes over how much ass-kissing Dad did to make sure those sponsors considered our little family perfect and kept on investing in his company. The grand masquerade ball wouldn't have happened if it weren’t for the media exposing his affair with his assistant. He and Mom held a press conference to convince the public the words of his ex-employee were just vengeful attempts on her part for her firing when she supposedly stole from the company. To prove everyone wrong, all night, Dad stood glued to Mom and listened to her every word.

How could she live like that? I never understood why she stayed with my dad through all the years. He always cheated, and she always cried over it¸ but then a bottle of whiskey fixed her issues, and she had a new jewelry box lying on her bed.

Shaking my head, I headed outside to the terrace, which opened onto our beautiful garden. One more minute in this freaking place and I’d suffocate to death. My face hurt from all the fake smiles I had to plaster on so my parents would be happy and continue to pay my college tuition.

After watching my mom suffer for so many years, I refused to play in their stupid game of the perfect image, but this time, it was needed. Dad threatened me, and I had no other choice to make. My degree was the only thing that could take me far away from their mess. Not to say they were awful parents or treated me badly, they just despised any kind of rebellion from their rich life. My childhood was filled with dinner parties, expensive toys, nannies, and absent parents. No love or warmth was present in the house. Truthfully, I always wondered why they even wanted to have a kid. As it turned out, once, when my mom was really drunk, she confessed my dad needed a ‘whole’ family; otherwise, he would have looked selfish. The saddest part in all this was I didn't even cry over it all that much. How could one feel sorrow over having cold parents, when she or he never knew differently? So, although they required me to be here, most of the time they couldn't care less what I did.

Deeply inhaling the heavenly smell of roses mixed with fresh mown lawn, I admired the view the terrace opened onto. The garden was a wide space with green, perfectly cut grass and several large oak trees. Some of them were a hundred years old and an amazing place to hang out. Roses in different colors surrounded a few benches, arches, and concrete pathways. The full moon was mesmerizing. My mind—my imagination—drifted away from here to the place of magic lands and wild adventures where love, friendship, sisterhood, and soul mates existed. The garden was a constant source for my inspirations. My stories lived on paper, but I had yet to publish them online. My creative writing professor repeatedly told me it was a crime to keep them to myself.

During our last class, he threatened to fail my final work if I didn't show him an eBook version of my latest story. The thought made me laugh, and it echoed in the silent night.

“Gorgeous.”

Stunned, my head moved to the right to the stranger who stood behind the trees.

“Hello?” My brows furrowed as I waited for him to move out of the shadows, so I’d have a better look at him. Who the hell could he be? Almost no one knew about this hidden bower, one of the reasons I decided to hide in here.