Dark Devotion

*Not a fanfic*
*Also on Wattpad*
*Andy Biersack is on the cover because he's casted as James Black.*
This is a dark story of obsession and murder. (& a lot of drama)
Rebecca has been married for four years, and her marriage is at it's worse. She fears her marriage will soon fall to ruin, she's stuck between bitterness and depression. Then a tall, blue-eyed, mysterious stranger moves into her neighborhood, his darkness captures her immediately.
From the very first second James laid eyes upon Rebecca, he knew he had to have her. She's stuck in an unhappy place, and he's just the person to set her free.
But in the end, what will James have done to achieve his beloved Rebecca? Does she really know James the way she thinks she does? Or is he something she never expected? Will this not so innocent affair end with deadly consequences?
Getting James into her bed wasn't hard, it's getting rid of him that's the hard part.

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11. Chapter Eleven

(Present day)

 

 

My curiosity for James was ever growing. Sometimes I wonder what I would do to find out more about him. Yet, at the same time, I can't gain enough distance from him. It's insanity how I feel drawn to him in a way, but I'm also compelled to run as far and as fast as I can from him.

Sometimes his words echo in my head, when I'm alone, in the dark. 

*~*~*~*

Ten minutes after John left for work the phone rings, I answer it on the third ring.

"Hello."

Nothing. I pause, listening to the utter silence.

"Um, hello?"

Only silence, so I hang up.

I make it halfway back to the living room when the phone rings again, I walk over to it by the second ring, but I hesitate to pick it up until the fourth ring.

"Who is this?" I ask somewhat meekly.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you," A gravelly, distorted voice says.

I hang up quickly. The phone begins to ring again, I let it ring several times. My hand quakes as I reach for the phone again, I almost pull my hand back. But I can't decide whether it's better to answer it or let it ring. I pick it up quickly, "What do you want?" I say loudly.

"I want to see you dead."

The line goes dead, and I drop the phone. I swear my heart stops for a moment, I realize I'm holding my breath and I release it. I sit on the couch, chills sweep over my entire body as I let myself sink back into the couch. I stare forward blankly, not wanting to move, not sure that my legs wouldn't buckle underneath me.

Who is doing this, and why?

*~*~*~*

I decide it's best not to tell anyone about the phone calls, but I've become more cautious and even borderline paranoid. I feel as if I have to keep an eye on my surrounding at all time. I can't really trust anyone, but it feels like an awful burden to carry this dark secret around with me. Just another secret really, one of many now. I  used to hate keeping secrets, now it feels as if it's all I do.

I walk across the street to my car, groceries in hand. Just when I reach my car, Marcy Covack, one of our other neighbors, calls out my name and starts to walk towards me. She's quite a nosey thing really, I suppose, being in her early sixties, she hasn't got anything better to do.

Her once raven black hair looked a dull shade of black and blue mixed together. Her hair looks especially blue in certain spots when sunlight hits it.

She ends up killing fifteen minutes talking to me, about all the usual gossip I've been handed by at least ten people in the last week. Please stop talking, is all I can think as my arm starts to go numb underneath the bag of groceries.

I tune her out at certain times as she rambles on about Barb's new curtains, and how they don't match that hideous sofa of her's. I don't understand why these people believe I would be interested in hearing about any of the things they tell me. I barely know Barb anyway, but she seems nice enough. What business is it of their's how she decorates her home?

Frankly, I'm disgusted with the whole conversation. I start to let my mind drift on how to get away from Marcy and all her gossip. I keep quiet and let her continue her spew of gossip, my thoughts stay elsewhere, only hearing half of what she says.

I really don't want to be rude, but is that what my neighbors think life is about? Who got new shoes, who's cheating on who? What's good or bad when it comes to other people's looks or taste in clothing, or their furniture. Everyone's dirty little secrets and how quickly can it be spread to everyone in town. How much of everyone else's dirty laundry can we expose for everyone to see?

To me, that's honestly pathetic, haven't you got anything in your life? Is this seriously all you can do, talk about others?

Then I hear something that grabs my attention.

"What did you say?" 

"Oh, you know who I'm talking about. Your neighbor across the street, that tall mysterious one. He's got quite a past I've heard." 

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