Haunting-Adeline

Addie’s great-grandmother could’ve just been seeing what she wanted
to see, and he really did kill her.
Or maybe her husband caught her having an affair and flew into a fit of
rage.
Both possibili es are equally likely, just as it’s likely that whatever shit
her stalker got mixed up in could’ve bi en him in the ass. And bite they did
—right where it would’ve hurt him most.
His obsession.
A er I poked through the diary, I became curious and looked deeper into
her great-grandmother’s story. The pull of history repea ng itself was too
intriguing.
The crime scene was trampled over, and the detec ves handling the
case were complete imbeciles.
ADDIE: Not yet. But I’m going to find it. And I’ll be proven right.
All stalkers are just fucking psychotic freaks.
I purse my lips, a smile threatening to take over. I’ll let her stew on her
response for a few minutes. Let her think she pissed me off or hurt me.
Whatever she’s convinced herself my reac on would be.
She thinks she knows me already, but my li le mouse couldn’t be further
from the truth.
I stalk her because I’m fucking addicted. I’m fascinated with every move
she makes, every word that comes from her pre y pink mouth. And now
I’m addicted to her scent, her taste, and the way she sounds when she’s
scared for her life—just as much as I’m addicted to the way she sounds
when she’s begging for more.
It’s not something I can explain. When I saw her, I fucking nearly fell to
my knees with need, and I will have her.
But not because I’m psycho c and delusional. I’m not going to make a
goddamn shrine of her and convince myself that we were des ned to be
together by the gods or whatever weird shit people believe in these days.
I’ll have her because she’s the first thing that made me feel something
good in so long, and I’ve become obsessed with keeping it.
I don’t have very many something goods in my life, and I don’t care if it
makes me selfish for wan ng to hold on to it.
The only way I’ll be able to truly keep her is if she sees me at my worst.