Chapter 34
Obsession
| once had this nt, you know? It was this tiny thing, nestled in a little pot on my windowsill. | thought | was doing it a favor by
showering it with water every single day. Like, who wouldn''t want a daily dose of hydration, right? Little did | know, | was
drowning the poor thing in my overzealous attempt to be a ster nt parent.
Every morning, without fail, I''d grab that watering can and unleash a torrent of liquid affection upon my leafypanion. |
thought | was being the best nt mom ever. | mean, what nt doesn’t want to be surrounded by water? It’s like their thing,
isn’t it?
But you know what happened? Despite my unwavering dedication, that little. green buddy of mine started looking... well, not so
lively. Its leaves began to droop, and the vibrant green hue turned into a sad shade of brown. It was like a slow—motion botanical
disaster right there on my windowsill.
One day, as | gazed at the wilted state of my once-thriving friend, it hit me like a ton of bricks maybe, just maybe, I’d been a tad
too enthusiastic with the watering routine. You''d think I’d learn from the first few signs of distress, but nope. | kept pouring on the
H20, convinced it was the elixir of life for my little leafy buddy.
It''s funny, you know? How we sometimes think we’re doing the right thing, pouring all our efforts into something, only to realize
we might be suffocating it instead. | guess | had this grand vision of my nt thriving under my care, standing tall and proud.
Instead, it was gasping for air in soil that had be a watery bog.
Now, | can almost hear you thinking, “Why didn’t you just Google it?” And yeah, you''re right. | could have, but there’s this
stubborn streak in me that insists | know what''s best. Google? Pfft. Who needs it when you''ve got sheer determination to drown
outmon sense?
So, there | was, facing the harsh reality that my nt-parenting skills were, well,cking. But you know what’s even more
comical? In my quest to be the best nt parent ever, | ended up being the reason for its demise. Irony, right?
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Obsession
| remember standing there, pot in hand, soil soaked beyond recognition, and leaves that looked more like they belonged in a
compost heap than on a thriving nt. It was a moment of reflection, a botanical reckoning, if you will. | had to
ept it my once-greenpanion was now a casualty of my overenthusiastic approach to nurturing.
In the silence of that nt funeral, a realization dawned on me.
Maybe, just maybe, less is more.
Fast forward to the present, and here | am, navigating the curious waters of Ettie’s intentions. It’s like she’s armed with a
watering can of goodwill, pouring it over me with the conviction that she knows what''s best. The irony isn’t lost on me from the
over—nurturing nt parent to being on the receiving end of Ettie’s overbearing protectiveness.
Ettie, in her own way, thinks she’s doing what’s good for me. Just like | believed drowning my nt in daily showers of affection
was the key to botanical bliss. The intentions are golden, right? But the execution, oh boy, that’s where things get a bit tangled.
Ettie’s be a sort of guardian, a protector with an unyielding belief that her ways are the path to salvation. It''s oddly familiar —
the misguided sense of knowing what''s best for someone else. In her eyes, she’s watering my metaphorical leaves, ensuring |
thrive under her watchful gaze.
The thing is, just like my poor nt, I’m feeling a bit suffocated. Ettie’s care, while well-intentioned, has this weight to it. It’s as if
every gesture is an attempt to shield me from the perils of the world, to cocoon me in safety. And while safety is nice, there’s a
thin line between protection and suffocation.
We''ve had our moments, Ettie and |. Conversations where | try to express that her version of protection feels more like
confinement. She doesn’t see it that way, of course. To her, the world is a perilous jungle, and she’s the fierce hunter ready to
fend off any threat.
I''ve tried to make her understand that sometimes, | need space. Like my poor nt needed room to breathe between watering
sessions, | need moments where |
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14:59 Fri, 8 Mar DG.
Obsession
can navigate life without feeling like every step is monitored. It’s a tricky conversation, though, because it’s hard to articte the
need for independence without sounding ungrateful.
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There’s this dichotomy, you see. On one hand, | appreciate the concern, the genuine desire to shield me from harm. On the
other, | find myself yearning for the freedom to make my own choices, to navigate the metaphorical soil of life without fearing I''ll
drown in someone else''s well-intentioned care.
In those moments of attempted conversation, I’ve glimpsed the frustration in Ettie’s eyes. It’s like she can’t fathom why I''d want
anything other than her vignt protection. And there’s the rub — the gap between what she thinks is best for me. and what | feel |
need.
I''m sitting here, huddled in the corner of this makeshift hut, feeling like amb caught in the den of a wolf. Elijah’s dried blood
stains the
floor, a harsh reminder of the madness that unfolded not too long ago. And as Ettie casually walks around, like nothing is wrong,
I''m left here, grappling with a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty.
The air is thick with tension, and every creak of the wooden walls sends shivers down my spine. | can’t shake the feeling that I’m
at the mercy of forces beyond my control, and it''s suffocating. Ettie moves with an eerie calmness, as if the brutal act of
moments ago was just a blip in the timeline of her existence.
The floor beneath me feels cold, almost unforgiving. | shift my gaze from the bloodstains to Ettie, who’s now rummaging through
a bag with a casual demeanor. It’s disconcerting, the way she seamlessly transitions from hunter to caretaker. A paradoxical
dance that leaves me on the edge, wondering which side of her I’m truly facing.
| consider making a run for it, a desperate bid for escape from this unsettling scene. But where would | go? The forest outside is
abyrinth of dangers, and the howls of unseen creatures serve as a constant reminder that survival isn’t guaranteed beyond
these walls.
Ettie nces in my direction, her eyes momentarily meeting mine. There’s a flicker of something in her gaze — a recognition, a
shared secret, or perhaps just a brief acknowledgment of the chaos that binds us together. My heart races, unsure
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Obsession
of what that nce signifies.
Does she see me as an aplice, a witness, or something else entirely?
Ettie approaches, a nonchnt smile on her face.
“Everything okay?”
Ettle asks, as if we''re discussing the weather. | manage a nod, my voice caught In my throat. Her hand reaches out, a gesture
that could either beforting or threatening. | flinch, unable to decipher the intentions behind the simple act.
As she continues her chores, | can’t help but wonder — am | truly safe here? Is this hut a sanctuary, shielding me from the horrors
lurking outside, or have | exchanged one perilous situation for another?
The echoes of Elijah’sst moments linger in the air, a haunting symphony that ys on repeat in my mind.
| try to focus on the mundane — the rustle of Ettie’s movements, the creaking of the wooden floorboards, anything to distract me
from the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. Yet, with each passing moment, the feeling intensifies, like a storm
gathering strength on the horizon.
Ettie nces at me again, this time with a hint of concern.
“You sure you''re okay?”
She asks. Her words pierce through the fog of my thoughts, and | force a weak
smile.
“Yeah, just processing everything.”
I reply, a feeble attempt to conveyposure.
Fingers fumbling at the crinkled map tucked inside my pocket. It feels like a lifeline, a fragile plece of paper that might hold the
key to my escape. Ettle is humming a tune,pletely absorbed in whatever she’s doing on the other side of
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14:59 Fri, 8 Mar G
Obsession”
the hut.
My heart races as | try to unfold the map without making a sound.
The paper protests with each cautious move, whispering a tale of my ndestine ns. | steal a nce towards Ettie, making
sure she’s still
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preupied. Her attention seems fixed on something in the corner, oblivious to the fumbling of a desperate soul.
The map unfolds reluctantly, revealing intricate lines and markings that might as well be abyrinth of possibilities. | trace the
paths with my eyes, searching for the route that leads far away from this madness. Every second counts, and | can’t afford to
make a wrong move.
My fingers brush against the map, and | squint at the names of ces I’ve never been. A forest of uncertainty lies beyond those
marked boundaries, but it''s a gamble I’m willing to take. | can’t stay here, tethered to a person who blurs the line between
protector and predator.
The crinkling sound of the map echoes in the confined space. My eyes dart towards Ettie, but she remains engrossed in her own
world.
| look down at the map, my fingers trembling. The words seem to dance, a cryptic code that promises freedom. | trace a path
with my index finger, plotting my escape like a fugitive on the run. Ettie hums, a melody that shes with the turmoil in my mind.
The realization hits me — | can’t let Ettie see the map. It’s my ticket out of this nightmare, a small piece of hope that | can’t afford
to lose.
| remember the times when Ettie and | shared dreams of a future, ns that never included the harsh realities of the mating run.
We were naive, blinded by the camaraderie of friendship. Now, the lines between friend and foe blur in this unforgiving
landscape.
Adialogue ys in my mind the words Ettie spoke, the twisted logic she tried to force upon me. “iming for safety,” she said,
as if it could erase the stains of
violence from her hands. | can’t trust her, not now.
15:00 Fr. 8 Mar DB.
Obsession
The Ettie | knew would never have resorted to such extremes.
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| close my eyes for a moment, hoping to shut out the memories of the chaos, to escape into the simplicity of a time when
normalcy was just a part of everyday life.
| want things to go back to the way they were, to theughter shared with Ettie around a crackling fire, to the warmth of
friendship that now seems like a distant echo. But deep down, | know that normal is a luxury | can no longer afford.
The ache for normalcy intensifies as | recall the times we shared thezy afternoons by the river, the hushed conversations
beneath a starlit sky. | want to believe that those moments weren''t swallowed by the darkness that now lurks. within Ettie. | want
to believe that normal still exists somewhere beyond the tangled branches of the forest.
But reality is unforgiving, and the echoes of Ettie’s actions resound in my mind.
“| just want things to go back to normal.”
The words hang in the air, a fragile wish that I know will remain unanswered. As the shadows lengthen, | feel a sense of
resignation settling within me.
As the memories of Ettie’s twisted actions rey in my mind, | can’t shake the feeling that I’m trapped in a cycle of horror, my
choice to register for the mating run bing a haunting decision.Material ? N?velDrama.Org.
The regret gnaws at my conscience, a relentless reminder that the pursuit ofpanionship may have led me straight into the
clutches of something far more
sinister.