The Obsessed
A Horror Story
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Tanya went to her car. Plugged in the address. Took a call. Sent a text. Drove to the event.
Cameras picked her up at the building. The SMART TV in the lobby watched her. Her SMART watch tracked her.
She worked all day and went home, took care of her son, and went to bed to repeat tomorrow.
Julie went to the office. Cap low. Logged in.
There Tanya was.
Julie tracked her all day: phone, watch, every app.
Julie went home.
Hundreds of pictures of Tanya covered her wall. Emails, texts, social media posts, all sorted and organized. Julie added to it and called it “Tanya and Julie.”
She went on her Instagram.
“I can’t be Tanya, but if I can’t, nobody else can either.”
A week later, Tanya’s phone wouldn’t start. Her card declined. Her TV. Everything.
She got to work, but her ID was invalid. They let her in on pity.
Tanya got calls about her identity all day.
Two weeks to fix it.
Julie took notes on Tanya’s collapse, noticing how she stayed positive.
“I can fix that.”
Julie sent fake emails, texts, and social media to all of Tanya’s friends.
Two days later, she loved watching as Tanya was upset. Alone.
“But I never said that —”
CLICK!
Another friend hung up.
How was everyone against her? Why was this happening? Tanya stopped answering her phone, stopped checking email, and withdrew.
Julie watched Tanya fall apart, and for the first time in months, she felt good about herself. She hacked Tanya’s accounts and sent more messages. She made fake accounts pretending to be Tanya, and used them to harass Tanya’s friends.
The door to the office opened, and Julie shot up.
“Director!”
The man with patches approached. “On behalf of the agency, thank you for what you’re doing for security.” Julie beamed with pride. “These twenty names you added to the watch list, volunteered to monitor, that’s truly unselfish.” He nodded and left.
Two months later, Tanya was consulting private eyes, former ops, disgraced figures.
One man, Vanya, heard her case. He shook his head. “They do in home country too.”
“Do what?”
“For your safety. They watch you,” he winked. “You have agency employee involved.”
“What do I do?”
“Nothing. I do.”
“What about my friends?”
“Easy to leave you. Were they friends?”
Vanya stood by the subway. A man dropped a briefcase by a trash can. Vanya picked it up.
The man in patches didn’t knock this time as he entered Julie’s office.
“Explain!” He threw a folder across her desk: images of her wall, copies of emails, prints of fake accounts.
“She harassed and bullied me, Director!” He scowled. “You’re abusing me!”
“Why her? How much did you cost her?”
“Only a few grand, and she was mean!” The director shook his head. “You’re being abusive!” She cried.
Three armed soldiers entered, taking Julie away.
“You did this to me! You targeted me! All of you in the agency did!”
Her screams faded into the distance.
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I’m published. Please consider buying my book. I wrote it in real time from my phone while I was in Colombia, while my marriage and life were falling apart, and while I was so ill I wasn’t sure I would make it.
Too Soon et pero Too Late: French Grace. American Collapse. Colombian Care.
This piece comes from the prompt by J Wirrowac:
The things people do to stay relevant...I can't seem to wrap my head around that kind of a level of psychosis. The most interesting part for me is for Julie to actually believe what she says in the end. It gives me chills to think about someone who is as delusional to believe that Tanya actually chose her a target and decided to ruin her while deep down her only problem was jealousy, projection and not having a life. Sad that how realistic reading this felt. But very well written. The entire thing felt too lived as if I was there with you and it was actually happenning.
I liked the ending.