“It won’t take long for me to tell you who I am. Well, you hear this voice right now well that’s pretty much all I am.”
O B S E S S I O N. It starts slowly. It slips under your skin when you are lost in your own world. It makes you observant. It makes you silent. It makes you a predator. It makes you dangerous. Because when you are obsessed with someone then you know everything about them, you follow them to the ends of the earth, you observe things no one else would give a second glance and you don’t know how to stop. You start spiralling down an unknown path when it is not reciprocated and then you find reasons why.
I never thought I could ever be as infatuated with someone as I was with him. I was sitting in a room full of people and somehow he still had the power to easily make me feel that I was alone with him. Physically and emotionally bared and it thrilled me more than it scared me. His voice acting, moving like a soft caress over my body as if they were having a conversation of their own, taking residence under my skin and coming alive when I sleep alone every night.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow edge. The veins were straining against his skin with every pressure he applied while manipulating the number figures on the board. The man was sexy without an effort and it was hard to keep your eyes off him. He demanded the attention of every person sitting in the room. No one dared defied him because he has a temper. A temper like a beast which makes me wonder if he is like that in bed too. Is he as passionate about discipline when he is not in a classroom too?
He was a work of art in my eyes. I would change nothing about him. If perfection was ever created it was inspired by him. I have observed him like a fanatical person from the very first day of my calculus class. He was unlike any other man I’ve ever seen. The high school boys who were mostly ignorant and arrogant were not even close compared to this charismatic man.
But that’s not the first time I saw him. I saw him walking down a road where I never thought I would see him. It might be a coincidence because I never saw him again there in that place. He walked past me without giving me even a first glance. I was not looking for his attention but I craved it like every girl in this class.
His hair was jet black and profuse. His want of running his fingers through his hair every minute was something he did when he was stressed or thinking about something that sparked his interest. My fingers trembled to slide the few traitor strands that fell over his forehead behind his ear. He was a walking temptation. His red lips were moving and I was paying so much attention to them that I could almost lip-read him.
He is all I see, think and dream about. His sapphire eyes delved across the room settling on the most beautiful girl of the class for a minute. This was not the first time his eyes searched for someone in particular and today is the three month anniversary of when this all started. I know because I’ve been noticing him for a very long time. I see every little thing he thinks goes unnoticed by the rest of the class but they are not fixated on him like me. It’s an honour to have his focus centred on you. It feels surreal, powerful and dangerous.
I slightly turned my head to see her, the reason for my jealousy and many other girls obviously but for different reasons. Addison Eleven, her name was enough to bring all the boys in our school to their knees and all the girls up in flames. She was an exotic beauty with a voice filled with honey. You can hate her as much as you want but there is nothing imperfect about that girl.
With deep brown eyes and skin as soft as honey, she looked like an angel with a body of a devil. Her thick black locks gave her a unique style that made her look like a goddess. I noticed a coy smile on her full lips and it took everything in me to not call her out about it. She was staring right back at him. I dug the nib of my pen into my skin to distribute the pain that was quickly spreading over my heart. The smile was simply breathtaking and it did have the desired effect on him too. But it was more than that. It was a smile sworn of secrecy and so private as if they know something we all don’t.
I looked down at my palm which was now sporting a dark blue ink spot and the skin around it had become red with the pressure. I pushed the pen away before I did any more damage to myself.
They looked like they just shared an inside joke which annoyed me more than anything in this world. She was a nice girl according to everyone but to me, she was my first nemesis. I hated feeling this way. It was not her fault that she enchanted the person I was obsessed with. But I couldn’t let this feeling go either. That’s my problem, I don’t know how to let go and it consumes me.
She is stunning, lush, independent, popular and thus rightfully earned the title of the golden girl of the school. No one gave it to her but no one in this school would ever say no to her. She gets what she wants by just saying it to the right person and her wish is granted just like that. That’s the charm of Addison Eleven.
I was everything but her. I wore clothes double my size most of the time, my hair was always tied in a tight bun and I was anything but beautiful. I might be beneath the layers but doesn’t true beauty come from within and as my mother used to say I’m empty inside and that reflects on my face. Nothing will attract people to me because there is nothing attractive about me. And I know that very well. But they do say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. It is just that I never had a person in my life long enough to simply look at me.
My mother was very beautiful. She was a classic redhead beauty, with gorgeous green eyes and luscious red hair. Everyone told me I looked just like her. I used to be proud of that before everything changed. Sometimes, I think that maybe I am just like my mother and that’s the thing I fear the most. So, I did everything to become the complete opposite of her. If I don’t look like her, then I will not act like her too but the more I tried the more I realized that if I ran away from the things she finds solace in then I am running away from my peace too. So, I made a compromise, I took her positive attributes and clung to them with my life.
No matter what happened she’ll always be my mother and I need some part of her close to me to remind me that before it all went to hell, it was a beautiful paradise.
The bell rings above my head and I try to linger around my desk delaying for a moment. It’s a trick many girls try to catch a moment alone with him and I’m one of them. No one is as consistent as me though. From the corner of my eye, I saw him give Addison another subtle look as she walked past his desk which made her lips curl in a secretive smile. She grazed the side of his wooden desk with her fingers as she walked past it like she was ghosting a finger down his forearm. I collected my bag and moved towards the front door stopping at the foot of his desk, calming my inner temptress long enough to greet him.
“Good day, Mr. Maddox”
With an innocent nod and a quick thank you in my direction he dismissed me as if I didn’t exist, which was what I wanted. I hated that he couldn’t care less about me but that’s the game I’m playing with myself, constantly torturing myself. I want him to notice me enough to want me but not have me.
How sick is that?
It’s one thing to have a crush on your teacher and a totally different thing to act on it. Totally dangerous and scandalous when the teacher is nine years older than you. I guess he’s willing to burn if he’s playing this game with Addison. A little attention is what I crave and more than that is something I could never handle.
Destruction was my middle name and I knew I had destroyed many things in my life. The last thing I want is for him to get caught up in the fire whose flames will consume him until there is nothing left.
I was the president of the Math Club and Arts Club. Art is my passion and Math is what made me look passionate to Mr. Maddox. Moreover, it made me appear like the perfect student I wanted to be, not that anyone ever noticed. I didn’t have friends unlike Addison, I had acquaintances who were mostly members of the clubs and I was happy with that. The less these people know about me, the better are the chances of me surviving high school without another freak show that happened two years ago.
I never have lunch in recess and it has become a habit now. I painted during that free time. My art is restricted to school only so I take full advantage of it. Being the head of the club helps me with full-time access to the art room. This is another thing I inherited from my mother and tried my hardest to stay away but failed.
My paintings were a part of my life. If something gets stuck in my mind I keep drawing it until it goes away. From my mother to my other mother, it speaks for itself. Stroking the brush over my mother’s hair reminded me of the time I used to comb her hair and braid it. I was a mother to my mother. A connection no one understands except her and me. Or maybe she didn’t either because I don’t know her anymore and she is too sick to recognize me anymore.
They call her a beautiful tragedy. A woman who loved so much that in the end she became sick of a broken heart and there is nothing in this world that could make her whole again.
She was a wonderful woman until the circumstances made her someone completely unrecognizable. Now, I could only stare at my paintings to reminisce days that were blissful and filled with happiness. It’s hard to deal with hatred from that one person who was supposed to love you without conditions.
Because it leaves behind open fresh scars that never truly heal. And every time you let someone in, you are afraid that they will only run salt all over your wounds. One of the reasons why I don’t show people my vulnerabilities. I want to leave before I’m left.
A U T H O R ′ S N O T E
So, I’ve been meaning to edit this book for a long time now. I started editing it a few months back but all I did was check it for grammatical errors and that’s not editing. So I took down the book and worked on the plot. It’s not much considering the setting of the book but I hope I get it to a level where I don’t feel ashamed to call it my work.
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Thank you for giving this book another chance and to the new readers welcome to the madness.