Olivia: The bustling streets of New York City, a new chapter in my life as a college law student. It was supposed to be a fresh start. Damien: (In the shadows, hidden) A fresh start, indeed. Little did she know, I was already watching, waiting. Olivia: (Checking her phone, puzzled) Odd, I keep getting messages from this Instagram account, Brahms 2023. Who could this be? Damien: (Fingers dancing on the keyboard) Brahms 2023, my alter ego. A name she once knew but now can't quite remember. Olivia: (Growing uneasy) These messages... they're getting too personal, too invasive. Who is this person? Damien: (Smirking) Olivia, it's me, Damien. Lost in her past, but never forgotten. I'm obsessed, and I won't stop until she's mine. Olivia: (Voice trembling) I never asked for this, never wanted your twisted form of love. You're pushing me to the edge of sanity, Damien.
Chapter 1 A New Beginning
**Olivia**
"I can't believe it!" I exclaim to myself as I stand in front of my apartment building in the bustling streets of New York. Is this really what my parents left for me? The entrance alone looks stunning, a bit old but charming nonetheless. I park my car in the designated spot and walk with my luggage towards the apartment door. It's on the ground level, and I notice that the door is quite distinct from the others, painted in sleek black.
As I'm about to insert my key into the lock, my phone suddenly starts buzzing uncontrollably. I eventually pick up while trying to force the key into the door. "Hey Oli. Have you finally arrived?" Eleanor's voice comes from the other end. "Yeah, but the door wouldn't budge," I reply, frustrated. Just then, the apartment door swings open. "Finally, I'm about to get in," I say with relief. "Wait, why is it so dark in here?" I remark as I roll my suitcase into the apartment.
"Can you switch to FaceTime? Let me see," Eleanor pleads, and I quickly switch to video call mode. "Wait, don't tell me the guy lying next to you is Conor, your ex?" I question. "Exactly. He's asleep, actually," she confesses. "Elea, how many times do I have to tell you to stop going back to your exes?" I scold her, my hand searching for the light switch. "Hush. I mean, Conor is handsome and, well, good in... you know what," she defends herself.
"Oh, damn it, I can't find the light switch," I mutter. My fingers finally locate the switch, and I turn on the light. My jaw drops at what I see, and Eleanor notices my expression, urging, "Girl, show me the apartment!" I switch from the front camera to the back camera, and she gasps as she sees as well.
I can't believe my eyes as I step into this space; it feels like I've entered a penthouse, not just an ordinary apartment. The interior is not only vast but also exquisitely furnished. I can't help but wonder if this is really what my parents left for me. Could it be true?
"Oliver, are you sure you entered the correct house?" Eleanor's voice snaps me back to reality. "I don't think this is my home. There's even a mini chandelier in the ceiling," I remark, still in disbelief.
"Go check the rooms," she suggests. I follow her orders and explore the first room. "I think this is the master bedroom," I say as I step inside. The room is spacious and inviting, with a mini-TV connected to a CCTV camera showing the outside view. The bathroom is luxurious, complete with a bathtub and a shower. The bed in the room is king-sized and looks like it could comfortably fit at least two big people, though I'm not particularly big myself, so I can't be sure.
"Damn, girl, you are so lucky. I had no idea your family was this wealthy," Eleanor exclaims. "Stop messing around. I really think this is the wrong home," I respond, still trying to make sense of it all.
I proceed to check the second bedroom, and it's just as impressive, complete with its own bathroom. "The second bedroom is for me," Eleanor jokes playfully.
"Hang on, let me call my dad's lawyer," I lie and quickly end the call. I really don't want to deal with that grumpy old lawyer, but I can't help but wonder how this magnificent apartment could rightfully be mine.
As I return to the sitting room, I freeze in place, my heart pounding, as I spot Nathaniel Westwood holding a plastic cactus toy that he himself gave me when we were together. What on earth is this jerk doing here? "Nathaniel, what are you doing here meddling with my stuff?" I ask, walking up to him, trying to keep my composure despite the shock.
"How did you even find me?" I continue, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and anxiety. "Olivia, I heard you were here, so I came to check on you," he lies with an insincere smile. "How did you get my detailed location? Get out!" I demand, not hesitating to show my firm stance.
He lets go of the toy and attempts to hold my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. "What the heck!" I react, pushing him away forcefully. "I missed you so much, Olivia. I really miss everything about you, so please come back and let's start dating again," he pleads, as if his mere words could erase all the pain he caused.
I can't contain my anger any longer. I snap, feeling a surge of indignation that propels me to respond. "How dare you come in here and ask me to be your girlfriend again? Are you stupid, or are you becoming stupid?" I fume, my rage taking over.
With all the hurt and frustration that I had suppressed since our breakup, I raise my hand and deliver a hard slap across his face.
With a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration, I firmly prevent him from taking another step closer. "Listen, you insensitive and deceitful individual," I begin, my voice unwavering. "It's only been a week since our breakup, and it seems you conveniently forgot, or perhaps you were too busy pursuing your superficial relationships to even notice my absence. Do you honestly believe I have the time or inclination to waste on someone like you? Don't mistake my silence for stupidity."
"In the beginning, we may have seemed like the perfect couple, the envy of our high school peers. You, with your wealth and physical beauty, and me, caught up in the excitement of young love. But that was nothing more than a fleeting teenage fantasy," I continue, holding back tears. "Regrettably, you've grown into a repugnant and manipulative person, treating me as if I'm some prize to be won or commodity to be purchased."
"I refuse to tolerate this any longer. Before my patience wears thin, I demand that you leave and never show your face again. Your monstrous behavior has shattered any illusions I once had about you," I declare, my voice rising in intensity. "You are nothing more than a toxic presence in my life, and I am done with you. Now, leave and spare me from further exposure to your toxicity."
He stands there, seemingly stunned, as my words sink in. I don't give him a chance to respond. With a surge of strength, I push him out of the apartment and swiftly slam the door behind him. But before he can fully process what's happening, I take the plastic cactus toy that he had the audacity to bring and slap it across his face as a symbolic gesture of my final goodbye.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I gather my emotions and find comfort in the fact that I've finally stood up for myself. I won't allow him to control me any longer.