Oliver Kirkland, 2p! of Arthur Kirkland, was obsessed, a fact he knew quite well, and enjoyed every second of it. Now it was not your average obsession, the kind most people had with a particulary good tv show or an amazing book series. No, his obsession lays with a person, a girl known as ____ to be precise.
He could have been considered her stalker, but as far as his twisted romantic mind was concerned, it was research on the woman he loved. He remembered reading in a book once, for books used to be his only way to escape the hell of his life, that everyone had that one special person made just for them. Well, Oliver was quite sure that person was her, his other half, the icing to his cupcake, his love.
Oh, how he yearned to hold her in his arms, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear after making love. However, only one thing stood in his way: Arthur Kirkland, his 1p! and ____'s current boyfriend. What she saw in his dull, bland 1p!, Oliver didn't know, not that it really mattered; he would be gone soon, anyway. The 2p! slipped the sharpened knife in his pocket, a maniacal grin twisting his handsome features.
Just you wait, little ___, soon you would belong to Oliver Kirkland.
Before now, you thought your month couldn't get any weirder, or creepier for that matter. For the past month, you recieved letters of love from a person who signed his name as Your Secret Admirer. Pretty vauge.
However, you never thought the letters would turn into something like this. Your eyes widened with horror as you looked upon the dead, bloody body of your beloved boyfriend, Arthur.
You fell to your knees, letting out a choked sob. He had been stabbed multiple times, leaving nothing to look at but a bloody mass.
Next to his body was a letter, written in cursive writing:
I have taken care of the obstacle. Now we can be together. Meet me at the old cabin in the woods.
Your secret admirer
The old cabin in the woods.
So he knew about that. The old cabin was this cabin that's been in the woods near your town for as long as you could remember and, when gossip was scarce, was mentioned in whispers about the disappearance of people by those who believed the cabin was haunted. You never believed such rumors, not that that stopped the cabin from freaking you out when you were younger.
It was there that you first met Arthur. When you gained enough courage to visit the cabin there, you found him looking around there to see if any of his "magical friends" were lurking about. It was when he asked if you wanted to meet his "flying mint bunny" that you questioned his sanity. Still, he looked so lonely you decided to be his friend.
For this admirer to choose to meet where you first saw Arthur.....Was he trying to rub salt on the wound? Your hands trembling in anger now, you slammed the note on the floor and stood up, dashing out the door.
Anyone in their right mind would have thought twice about meeting up with their boyfriend's killer, but you certainly weren't in your right mind; anger clouded your better judgment. You ran through the woods, tree branches scratching your arms and face, though you ignored the pain, determined to keep going. When you arrived, you screeched to a halt, your eyes widening as you took in the scene.
The old cabin was engulfed in orange and red flames, the flames dancing, as though celebrating the destruction of the cabin. Tears streaked down your face, lit by the bright flames. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a firm chest. "'Ello, poppet."
You snapped your head up to see who it was, gasping when you saw his face "A-Arthur?!" But, as you looked closer, you realized it was someone else; while quite similar, this guy had strawberry blond locks and the most piercing blue eyes you've ever seen.
Your question didn't seem to face the Brit. "I'm Oliver. Oliver Kirkland." He looked at the roaring fire, grinning. "This is where you met Arthur, correct? Now that he's dead and this place is gone, it's like you never met him!" He giggled.
So he was the admirer. There was some sort of irony about this, but you were too angry to consider it. "Why?" You hissed. "Why would you do this? Kill Arthur? Burn down the old cabin? What could you possibly have to gain?!"
He tightened his grip, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "You. You are my love." And before you could question it, he grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes widening, you tried to force him away, not that it did anything; his grip was like iron. He nibbled on your bottom lip, asking for entrance, though you refused to give it to him. Annoyed by this, the strawberry blond roughly squeezed one of your breasts.
You squeaked and he took full advantage of that, shooting his tounge into your mouth, eagerly exploring your cavern. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the faint taste of cupcakes. He pulled away slowly, using one hand to keep a firm grip on your waist and the other to hold your shoulder. His bright blue eyes pierced your, eyes that might have looked innocent to others, but you knew better; these were the eyes of a murderer, an insane obsession gone too far.
"You're my other half." He purred, lightly planting a kiss on your neck. "You belong to me poppet, and only me." Yes, Oliver Kirkland was a man obsessed, a fact he knew quite well.
And God, how he loved every second of it.