Cruel Obsession

"Trust me, Alex, you're misusing your ability writing for these internet blogs," Lily, my closest friend said, as she took a sip of her coffee at our beloved Capitol Hill café.

I gave her a sarcastic smirk, scribbling some ideas on my pad. "Hey, those blogs put food on my table, Lil. And it's not like I'm penning articles for The Washington Post or anything."

Lily snickered. "You should be. You're a talented writer, my friend Alex. You deserve more than some mediocre, low-paying job writing about the latest fashion trends."

A feeling of gratitude filled my chest as I smiled. Lily had always been my rock, motivating me to pursue my passions, even if they seem improbable.

As a Seattle based contract writer, adaptability has become my second nature. I penned articles pretty much about anything and everything, from latest tech trends to culinary critiques. It might not have been flashy, but it afforded me the means to support myself while pursuing my passion for storytelling.

I looked out towards the window, watching as the rain drops, casting a melancholic spell all around the city. I love days like this the most – peaceful and cozy, rainy days that make me yearn for the comfort of a good book and a warm cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, I have to resist the urge for a relaxing time today as I have a deadline to meet. I had a deadline to meet, and still have thousands of words awaiting completion.

I looked back at Lily, who was checking through her phone. "Hey, I really should be leaving. I've got a lot of work to tackle today."

Lily nodded, keeping her phone away. "Yeah, I will be working shift at the coffee shop later this afternoon"

We hugged tightly as I hung my bag over my shoulder. "Thanks for the coffee and the encouragement Lil. Just what I needed."

Lily's face lit up. "Anytime, Alex. Now go tackle that writing project and make magic!"

I laughed, feeling a jolt of motivation and grit. Meeting that deadline became my top priority no matter the obstacle.

As I was stepping out of the café, I was greeted by the cool rain splashing against my face and clearing my mind. I breathed in deeply, feeling the city's lively atmosphere. Seattle was a haven for creatives, where artists, musicians and writers just like me could thrive.

As I returned to my apartment, a compact studio situated in an offbeat building in the city's center. I cherish this place – the squeaky floors, banister, and the stunning view of the city skyline from my window.

As I sat at my desk, I felt a sense of serenity settle over me. This was my sanctuary. Comforted by my books, notes, and my trusty laptop.

As I got into a writing flow, I was lost in the story as the words were flowing effortlessly. Before I knew it, Hours slipped away barely noticing, as I was deeply engrossed in my work.

As sunset began to approach, casting a warm glowy light over the city, finally I took a breather as I stood up, stretching my arms lazily and strolled over to the window.

Gazing out at the city, I felt a sense of fulfillment and pride. I had not only nailed my deadline but had also produced some of my most outstanding work.

I was surprised as I turned back to my desk. A mysterious package had been delivered, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. No return address, no indication of its sender leaving me wondering.

As I picked up the package, I felt a thrill run down my skin. It was surprisingly heavier than I imagined.

I felt a sense of unease as I turned the package over. Who sent this? And what is this person's intention?

I was lost in thought as I stood there, contemplating, the package suddenly dropped from my hands as it fell to the floor with a loud crash.

I froze as my heart skipped a bit. I stared at the package. The wrap had torn apart revealing a small leather-bound brown book.

I felt a sense of curiosity and fear as I reached to pick the book. What is in it and who has chosen to share this with me?

A small note slipped out, hitting the ground as I opened the book. My heart pounding as I read the message scribbled on it:

"Rendezvous at the old clock tower this midnight. Come solo."

As I gazed at the words, I felt a chill run down my spine. I couldn't put the feeling off. Who had written this? And what is this person's intention?

I could hear the clock clicking louder as I stood there in terror, marking the hours until midnight.

And I knew it was inevitable for me to go.

Listening to the sweet solemn sound of the rain against my window pane, I have been awake and almost seemed like the usual Seattle

Unfortunately, my free time was limited due to my deadline I had to meet. I still needed to write a thousand more words. which for sake of argument would require me to write about a thousand words more.

morning with gloomy clouds, drizzling, and perfect time for spending with the book I so cherish.

As I made my way to the kitchen, making a pot of coffee as I scrolled through my emails. More bills to pay, more deadlines to meet. The usual adulthood responsibilities stared back at me.

As I filled my cup with steaming hot coffee, I looked out the window. The rain-drenched streets were eerily quiet and empty, except for a few brave individuals rushing to work.

I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched commuters head to their 9-5 jobs which means they get steady paychecks and benefits. And I was a freelancer struggling to make ends meet.

Despite the uncertainty, I wouldn't exchange what I have for the world as the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. I loved the freedom it brings, setting my own schedule, and witnessing my words come to life in print.

With my coffee in hand, I settled in my chair, staring blankly at my laptop screen. The cursor flashed, reminding me to start writing.

As I started to write, the words started to emerge slowly at first, but gained speed as hours passed by. The rain drummed against the window, a soothing background noise that helped me focus.

As the hours went by, I took brief moments to relax and have a snack, or to simply stand by the window. It was a peaceful but lonely existence and I've grown to appreciate it.

I decided to take a longer break as lunch time arrived, strolling to the nearby café to pick up a sandwich. The rain had paused and the sun was breaking through the clouds.

As I was walking I felt proud because I had come this far by myself, and I wanted to come further.

But as I waited in line at the cafe I could not get rid of that feeling of uncertainty. What if I didn't make it? What if I fail?

I let the thought go and stuck to the actual situation, ordering my sandwich and sitting down at the tiny table by the window.

As I was eating, I started to glance at my phone through social media, and there it was, another blogger's post that announced her book deal with a major publisher.

I got a small sense of envy to go with admiration. She had done it, she had made it.

I sighed and dropped my phone from my face. I didn't think I'd be that successful yet.

But as I made my way back to my apartment I really did feel motivated. I will do this. I will succeed.

And when I got back to my desk I began to write again with a new found passion, the words moving smoothly on the paper.

Over the hours, with the sun beginning to set, a golden light blasted over the city, I saved my work and felt accomplished.

But when I got up to stretch a bit I noticed something odd. A package had been delivered at my doorstep.

I felt my spine froze as I picked it up. It was the same wrapping material as the last package - brown paper and twine.

I looked it over in my hands and felt a bit of fear. What 'd be inside of it?

And then I saw it. A little note on the package which says one thing:

"You're getting close to the truth."

As I was looking at the note, there was a chill in my spine, what truth was it? And who was behind it?

I froze in fear as I stood there, the doorbell rang.

I hesitated a moment as to who it could possibly be, then heard a low, soft and creepy voice.

"Alex, we need to talk.."

I froze to my feet, my heart pumping, wondering who this guy was, and what would he want from me?

I let out a large breath, trying to calm myself down and opened the door.

That 's when I noticed him, a man of tall and massive build, with striking blue eyes and sharply defined features, dressed in a suit well tailored, his dark hair a perfect cut.

"Alex, " he said, low and immaculately speaking, "can I come in?

I nodded, still somewhat unsettled as he led me into the house.

"Who are you? " I asked, trying to keep my voice in check.

" My name is Julian Saint Clair, " he replied, turning his eyes again, always to mine, "And I think we have a mutual acquaintance. "

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Who's that?

Someone who's been following you, Alex, someone who's very interested in your work Julian smiled, his eyes quivering at the corners.

I sensed myself getting a shiver up my spine as Julian's gaze seemed to be bent over me. Who was this person and what were they thinking of me for?

As I stood there in my tedium, Julian glanced around my apartment, taking note of the cluttered bookshelves and the worn furniture.

"You've got a beautiful home, Alex," he said sadly, with an earnest sincerity. "I can understand why you're devoted to your writing.

I got a kick to defend myself, but Julian's smile won me over.

"And I am not here to make you miserable, Alex, " he said, his eyes fixed on mine. "I am here to give you an opportunity.

I raised an eyebrow, curious. "What sort of opportunity?"

Julian smiled again, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"How about just saying it's the chance to take your writing to the next level," he argued slowly and persuasively. "Are you interested?"

I was shaking and not sure what to say, there was a part of me that yelled at me to say no and tell Julian to leave and never come back, and another part that just wanted to be successful and take credit for me, tempted me to say yes.

Julian's eyes were stuck on mine as I stood there weighing my options. I could guess he knew exactly what was running through my mind as he was carefully waiting for me to make a decision.

Later on, as I was about to speak, my phone rang again, shrill and insistent.

I was perplexed as I stared at Julian, wondering what to do.

"Answer your call", he said, in a low and commanding tone.

I sucked in a little fear as I pressed the button on my phone.

And then I saw the caller's identity. It was an unknown number with one message

"Do not trust him."

I felt cold as I gazed up at Julian with his eyes widening in amusement.

"You care to tell me who that was?" he asked in a low and persuasive tone.

I held back my words as I'm not certain of my response. The phone rings on continually.

Later on, As I was just about to pick up the call, Julian turned his eyes towards me and said, "Don't answer now Alex. It's not safe.

I was so scared as to what he meant by those words, and who was that at the other end of the phone?

I paused as I was uncertain of what to do next. Julian's eyes locked into mine.

And just as I was about to make a decision, the phone stopped ringing. And the room went silent.

The whole room went light as Julian and I stood there in silence. I suddenly had a feeling that I was in a game and Julian was holding the cards.

And just as I was about feeling suffocated, Julian broke a smile in amusement.

"I think we've had enough conversation, Alex, don't you think?" He said, with a low and husky voice.

I felt a sense of relief as I nodded in affirmation.

"Perfect!" Julian said, as his eyes stayed glued to mine. I'll contact you soon as we still have a lot more to talk about.

He turned around, leaving my apartment. There I was, still shaking and confused.

I stood there still, trying to process all that just happened.

I could not help the feeling that my whole life was about to change in ways I could not comprehend.