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Obsessive Messages by M.L. Philpitt

 

 

 

 

 

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π‘π‘Žπ‘‘π‘Žπ‘™π‘–π‘’,   

π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’β€™π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘Ž π‘—π‘œπ‘. 𝐴 𝑓𝑒𝑀 π‘šπ‘’π‘ π‘ π‘Žπ‘”π‘’π‘ , π‘Ž π‘›π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘π‘‘π‘–π‘šπ‘’ 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑑, π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’β€™π‘™π‘™ 𝑓𝑙𝑦 π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘ π‘œπ‘’π‘‘ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘Žπ‘”π‘’ π‘‘π‘œπ‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘–π‘›π‘‘π‘œ β„Žπ‘–π‘  π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘šπ‘ . 𝐻𝑒’𝑙𝑙 π‘ π‘Žπ‘£π‘’ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘šπ‘› β„Žπ‘–π‘šπ‘ π‘’π‘™π‘“ 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘π‘’π‘ π‘ . π‘Œπ‘œπ‘’ 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 πΌβ€™π‘š π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘π‘Žπ‘‘ 𝑔𝑒𝑦, 𝑏𝑒𝑑 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’β€™π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘Žπ‘π‘‘π‘’π‘Žπ‘™π‘™π‘¦ π‘™π‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘–π‘›π‘” π‘šπ‘’ π‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘ π‘‘π‘œ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘£π‘–π‘™π‘™π‘Žπ‘–π‘› π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘–π‘  π‘ π‘‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘¦.   

𝐿𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 π΅π‘–π‘Ÿπ‘‘, 𝐼 π‘€π‘Žπ‘  π‘›π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘ π‘’π‘π‘π‘œπ‘ π‘’π‘‘ π‘‘π‘œ π‘‘π‘œπ‘’π‘β„Ž. 𝐼 π‘€π‘Žπ‘  π‘›π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘ π‘’π‘π‘π‘œπ‘ π‘’π‘‘ π‘‘π‘œ π‘€π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ β„Žπ‘œπ‘€ 𝐼 π‘‘π‘œ. 𝐼’𝑣𝑒 π‘‘π‘’π‘šπ‘π‘‘π‘’π‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘–π‘›π‘‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’, 𝑏𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑑’𝑠 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘€β„Žπ‘œβ€™π‘  π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘”π‘”π‘’π‘‘ π‘šπ‘’ π‘‘π‘œπ‘€π‘›. π»π‘œπ‘€ π‘π‘Žπ‘› 𝐼 𝑒𝑠𝑒 π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘‘π‘–π‘ π‘π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘€β„Žπ‘’π‘› πΌβ€™π‘š π‘π‘’π‘π‘œπ‘šπ‘–π‘›π‘” π‘ π‘œ π‘œπ‘π‘ π‘’π‘ π‘ π‘’π‘‘ π‘€π‘–π‘‘β„Ž π‘¦π‘œπ‘’?    

π‘Šπ‘’β€™π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘›π‘œπ‘‘ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 π‘Žπ‘‘ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑑 π‘π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘ π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘”π‘Žπ‘šπ‘’ 𝑦𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑒𝑑 π‘€β„Žπ‘’π‘› 𝑀𝑒 π‘šπ‘Žπ‘˜π‘’ 𝑖𝑑 π‘‘π‘œ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘“π‘–π‘›π‘–π‘ β„Ž 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒, π‘¦π‘œπ‘’β€™π‘™π‘™ π‘™π‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘› π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘β„Ž π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙 β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘π‘’ π‘šπ‘’.    

π‘ˆπ‘›π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘’π‘›π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘™π‘¦ π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’, 𝐼’𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 πΌβ€™π‘š π‘›π‘œπ‘‘ π‘‘π‘œπ‘›π‘’ π‘€π‘–π‘‘β„Ž π‘¦π‘œπ‘’.   

𝑂𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘ , 

π‘‡π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘›   

𝑂𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 π‘€π‘’π‘ π‘ π‘Žπ‘”π‘’π‘  𝑖𝑠 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘ π‘’π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘‘ π‘π‘œπ‘œπ‘˜ 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ πΆπ‘Žπ‘π‘‘π‘–π‘£π‘’ π‘Šπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘‘π‘–π‘›π‘”π‘  π‘ π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘’π‘ , π‘€β„Žπ‘–π‘β„Ž π‘šπ‘’π‘ π‘‘ 𝑏𝑒 π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘ 𝑖𝑛 π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ. 𝑂𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 π‘€π‘’π‘ π‘ π‘Žπ‘”π‘’π‘  𝑖𝑠 π‘Ž π‘”π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘¦ π‘ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘™π‘˜π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘šπ‘Žπ‘›π‘π‘’ π‘€π‘–π‘‘β„Ž π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘›π‘‘ π‘ π‘œπ‘šπ‘’ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘  π‘šπ‘Žπ‘¦ 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘”π‘”π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘›π‘”. π‘‡π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘”π‘”π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘€π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘›π‘–π‘›π‘”π‘  𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑑𝑒 π‘ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘™π‘˜π‘–π‘›π‘”, π‘‘π‘’π‘π‘–π‘œπ‘’π‘  π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘ π‘’π‘›π‘‘, π‘›π‘œπ‘›-π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘ π‘’π‘›π‘ π‘’π‘Žπ‘™ 𝑠𝑒π‘₯π‘’π‘Žπ‘™ π‘’π‘›π‘π‘œπ‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘ , 𝑒π‘₯𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑 𝑠𝑒π‘₯π‘’π‘Žπ‘™ π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘›π‘‘, π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘”π‘Žπ‘ π‘š π‘‘π‘’π‘›π‘–π‘Žπ‘™, π‘šπ‘Žπ‘›π‘–π‘π‘’π‘™π‘Žπ‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘›, π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘“π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘›π‘π‘’ π‘‘π‘œ π‘ π‘™π‘Žπ‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦, π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘“π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘›π‘π‘’ π‘‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ, π‘ π‘€π‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘–π‘›π‘”, π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘π‘’, π‘Žπ‘π‘’π‘ π‘’, π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘β„Žπ‘¦π‘ π‘–π‘π‘Žπ‘™ π‘£π‘–π‘œπ‘™π‘’π‘›π‘π‘’. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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#OMRD-8

March 2nd_ 8th + Release Day

Release Day (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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#OMRD-9

β€œHello?” I call out.

No answer. Which, why would they talk and make themselves known?

If someone’s even here.

No, someone is definitely here. With their arrival, they’ve changed the air. Electrified it with their presence, and my house was warning me the entire time.

Since I despise morning wake-ups by the sun, I invested in blackout curtains, and now, having them shut means not even the moonlight shines in, giving me zero light. I’m blind in the darkness, requiring me to switch on a light.

This could be to my benefit since he won’t see me reaching for my lamp.

I inch to the right, stretching my arm out for the hanging string, hoping I don’t swing it to hit against the lamp post. When my fingers make purchase and tug on the chain, I huff in relief.  

Nothing happens. No light basks the room.

What the fuck?

I tug again, this time rougher.

β€œLittle Bird, that was cute.”

Oh my God.

My body dies, freezes, stops workingβ€”all of the above. It’s the only explanation for the voice in my room. I’m dead, and it’s all in my head. But then warm breath coasts along my bare neck, reminding me that I’m in panties and a tank, no bra, and completely exposed to whoever this creep is.  

None of this is in my head. There’s someone actually here. I straighten from my attempt to switch on the lamp, feeling the smooth chill of leather, I think, brushing my arms.

β€œThe lamp. I unplugged it.”

β€œWh-what do you want?” I’m thankful he’sβ€”the voice is way too deep to be a female’sβ€”behind me and can’t see the blatant fear from my expression. The way my eyes shut tightly and re-open, praying he’ll be gone by the time they open. Or the way my throat moves painfully over the large lump lodged in there. Or even how my hands curl at my sides.

β€œWhat do I want?” Amusement coats his words.

β€œThat’s what I asked.” I bite my tongue, hoping he doesn’t take my comment as rude. My appreciation for crime shows and documentaries suddenly becomes extremely useful.

Lesson one: Never piss off the bad guy. It doesn’t end well.

β€œI’m here for you, of course.” His breath ghosts over the back of my neck, followed by his touch. His finger strokes the skin there, lifting my hair out of its way, and coming around to my neck bone. I twist my head, aiming to look at him, but he steps behind me once again.

He’s not wearing a face covering, or else he’d wouldn’t be scared to stand in front of me, knowing my eyes will eventually be able to see through the darkness, allowing me the ability to pick apart his features. I scroll through anyone I know, specifically recalling any male staff I’ve heard at Alex’s house, but no one’s voice sounds like this one. It reminds me of that chocolate syrup for ice cream, the one that hardens nearly instantly. Rough and hard but velvety and smooth beneath the surface.

β€œAfter all, I never introduced myself.”

β€œYou wrote the message,” I deduce, the words coming out strained. Who else would happen to write me a creepy note and then also enter my room in the middle of the night? I’d have to have really shitty luck for that to have been two different people.

β€œI did.” He chuckles, and it’s pleasant. Not like a serial killer’s laugh. I want to allow it to ease me, but logic has me continuing to play with the edges of my shirt as anxiety works its way through my body.

β€œAre you here to hurt me?”

β€œThat depends.”

Oh, God. No please. I roll my lips together, forcing air through my quivering body. β€œOn?”

β€œOn how well you behave, Little Bird.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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#OMRD-10

Read The First Chapter HERE!

 

 

 

 

 

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#OMRD-13

M.L. PhilpittM.L. Philpitt is Canadian-born and raised, and enjoys representing Canada within her novels. As a Ravenclaw, she loves education, having undergraduate degrees in English Literature and Sociology, a certificate in Autism and Behavioural Sciences, and a MA in Counselling Psychology.

She writes in various romance new adult genres including paranormal, fantasy, dark romance, and contemporary. She has lots of crazy trapped in her head for readers to enjoy.

When M.L. Philpitt isn’t making up stories, she’s devouring those imagined by other authors. Her love of reading began when she was a young child and only grew with age. She enjoys many genres, as reflected in her writing preferences.

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