Okay this was definitely a problem. He was mental. He had to be, because here he was stalking you, his childhood best friend, breaking into your house any chance he could get to take things from your wardrobe and my gosh just obsessing in the worst way possible.

Not to mention he was a murderer now too, brutally killing any men or women who merely battered their eyelashes at you. And to make it worse? He reveled in this. He didn’t care he was committing crimes whether that be stalking, breaking and entering, or murdering. He loved doing it.

Because you were his. You were an angel sent from above. The most perfect being carved by either god and deity out there. You perfect. Can do no wrong. And you were his. But you didn’t know it yet. Even if he had to kill your friends (who is to say he hasn’t?) he will make you his. One way or another.

It made sense to be his. You both had been close your entire lives thanks to both of your parents being friends. Especially his father and your parents as all three were on the league. To him, it was fate.