Just dinner, tonight. That’s it. I’d been chasing Chelsea for years it seemed, I’d always had an attraction towards her. Maybe that’s how it all starts, attractions turn into obsessions, obsessions turn into love. ​ In my case I’d known everything about Chelsea, hell even how many guys she slept with. My point being our relationship was close, we grew up together, we hung out constantly, everyone wanted us to be in a relationship but her, and it killed me. I’d always break my own heart the same way, I would hangout with her and be in my happiest moments before my own thoughts finally hit me, it wasn’t voices. No, I’m not crazy, it was my own judgement, my own heart begging not to be hurt once more. Of course I’d try to strive away, get away from the thoughts of the perfect relationship, after all the only way to break an obsession is to avoid it, but I’d be wrapped around her finger once more after she’d ask me what was wrong, or call my phone, or give any sign she actually cared. I wanted her more than anyone else, I was tired of feeling alone, feeling empty, feeling like I have no sense of direction, I needed to rid this obsession. So there I was, a week before our senior year ended, asking her on a date. Okay. She said it without hesitation, I laughed, I expected her to join me, I expected her to tear my walls down once more, tell me it was a joke, tell me I was a loser, but she didn’t. She stood at locker with a confused look on her face. That’s when the reality of the situation hit me. Before I knew it I was parked outside of her house, my mind ran wild at the thoughts of what we’d do. To put it bluntly Chelsea had a reputation to be a whore, and I was willing to put it to the test. We both knew we had no intentions on going to dinner, about 20 minutes in she implied we pull over, and that's what I did. In those few moments of her on top of me I realized I had everything I ever wanted, but then I realized, she’d leave me, like the rest. Anger filled me and without hesitation I took my pocket knife and drilled it in her back, she didn’t scream, didn’t beg, she just stared endlessly into my eyes as blood oozed out of her, it was like her silence said a million things at once. Not soon after I buried her, hell I don’t even know where. I suppose that’s for the best. You see, I’m not writing this to gloat, or get pity for my own doings. I’m writing this to ensure the town of Oak ridge there is no murderer lurking about, It’s just a boy, getting over his obsession, the hard way.

Story is told by SMILEY_ATTACK




Sick, twisted, and pshycological. All i want in a story. Great job!


I feel for the boy....

S L. K

i ****'n luv'd it... & the greatest thing iz ... (i get it)!¡!! & applaud ur actiOnz?-clap, clap, clap...




ooooh weeee


The best, most psychological story I heard yet, its sick, its twisted, its everything I wanted in a story.