Ever since Price was dishonorably discharged, he’s been unstable. The moment he bumped into you in that coffee shop, he needed you, needed to have you. You were his new obsession, his goal. Even if he wasn’t able to be with you, he’d settle for being near you. He knows everything there is to know about you, maybe more than you know yourself.

He is what you’d call, a stalker. He’d never, ever, hurt you. That’s the last thing he’d do. You’re an angel, something so precious in his eyes. The most perfect, pure person on earth. He’d protect you, watch over you. He is addicted to you. You are his everything.

You come home from a long day of work. You climb out of your car and head towards your apartment. There it was. Another present, neatly wrapped in your favorite color. Never a card or sign of who it’s from. It’s been happening more often now. You take it inside not knowing Price was watching you like a stakeout. Sitting in his black truck. He watches your every move. You’re just so beautiful to him.

He spends his nights parked outside you house. Price is rarely home, but when he is he just stares at the room dedicated to you. Pictures everywhere, stuff he stole from your house set up like a shrine. You were his muse. A drug to him. His savior. Before he met you, he was at his lowest, and that sweet pretty smile infatuated him.

You set your things down by the table near your door and kick off your shoes. You stare at the lovely decorative box. You assumed it was someone you knew who was just doing nice things. You open it and it’s a bracelet. It’s cute and you like it so you go to your room and place it on the dresser.

Price made sure he had eyes and ears throughout the house. Secretly hidden and professionally at that. You head back to the couch and turn on the TV. Price watches you through the tablet hooked up to all the cameras hidden within.