A Dangerous Infatuation

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o leave her be. Seeking refuge, she swiftly maneuvers around the kitchen counter, her hand instinctively grabbing the nearest object, which she hurls in my direction. Her actions, th

steps. She's caught between flight and fight, her wide eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. Perhaps she views me as a potential threat, a dangero

d I misunderstand her motives? I believed she sought excitement, even fear, when she invited me into her world. After all, she brought me into her home, inviting a

embrace. The sensation of her body against mine is a revelation, a touch that resonates with purity amidst the chaos. My arms encircle her, a sh

senses. The proximity I've yearned for is now a reality, a miracle that surpasses my wildest daydreams. In my reverie, I've often envisioned this very moment, a scenario where the c

find myself willing to genuflect before the ground she graces with her steps, a testament to the reverence she inspires within me. The air itself takes on a differ

er presence. My gaze, once confined to photographs and stolen glances, now feasts upon her in entirety. It's a

re I can react, the nearest frying pan becomes a blunt instrument, connecting with my being. The jolt is far from agonizing; if anything, it intensi

in the midst of the bustling New York streets: I cannot fathom a life without her. The notion is clear and undeniable, a truth that echoes through my very

liv

on, my frustration boiling over. "I'm telling you that someone broke into my house,

statement," a police officer trie

nt, messing with my things!" I cry out in frustration

no signs of a break-in. Nothing was stolen," a female officer interjec

ck down. "I've already told you,

y. Now, tell me, what really happ

left with no choice but to confess the truth. "I... I thought

rm you," the female officer cuts me off, her words like a blunt

adeline Fairchild, I am the victim here. Why are all of you so q

sometimes become their own culprit," s

nged, just in case. If you can't go back to sleep tonight, you can sleep in one of the holding cells. But never, un

eful that I always have my phone with me, no matter what. As I turn it on, I'm met with a barrage of notifications from Brahms 2

ration that's been building up since this bizarre situation began. I

o the scolding. I miss her terribly; she wasn't the type to let things slide. Behind her tough exterior, she had a heart of gold and was known for baking the most exquisite cheesecakes. Baking was her art, her way of expressin

anufacturing company, and Mom had worked there as a chef. Their s

cious daughter. After some time, Dad decided to make Mom his forever, and they tied the knot. During those early days, I was just learni

ution. Within the span of a week, he was declared bankrupt, losing not only his fortune but also the very roof over our

resourceful, turned to her passion for baking, selling her creations to neighbors and beyond. By the time I was ten, I'd become Mo

elf on a delivery to a grand mansion, and that's when I met Eleanor. Our connection was instantaneous, and we quickly became inseparable friends. Eleanor lived with her affluent single fath

spotlight, basking in newfound popularity. This pivotal shift in my life introduced

of high school, envied by all. Despite Eleanor's reservations about him, I brushed aside her warnings, my love for him overshado

he midst of my exams, I fled the examination hall and raced to the hospital, only to find their lifeless bodies. I was just eighteen when I lost the

y alone in the world. The house we once shared was eventually seized. However, Eleanor returned just as I was navigating this tumultuous period, extending her

nt for me in New York. Initially unbelievable, I decided to investigate the matter. I informed Eleanor's dad of the situation, stating

Should I call my adoptive dad and divulge that I

proposition I can't risk pursuing. Just as I'm about to dial Elean

ick up almos

all you, but it says 'u

thing to her, revealing the bizarre ci

!" she exclaim

gine? I'm in a cell right now," I admi

ble," she responds, her ton

e don't tell Dad

bout how pissed off he'd be. But you know what, I promise not to spill

se," I a

tails. Is he hot?" Ele

"Are you kidding me right no

to swap places wi

ieve she's being serious. How can I even begin to think about the intruder in that context? In

ad in disbelief. Why does my