She was just a friend, and I didn't even realize when it turned into something more—like an obsession. She was there when I needed her the most. I think it's the selfless part of her that drew me in. If I called or texted her that I needed to talk, Vicky wouldn't bother to question me about the 'why' or 'what', the next thing I know she'd be standing outside my doorstep carrying my favorite cupcakes.

When we were fifteen, I realized that I liked her more than friends. I just didn't know if she knew that. At sixteen, I started having dreams about her. Sex dreams. Dark and dirty. Vicky was a star of my fantasies, and it started becoming harder to ignore it when she started flirting with me.

I think a part of me didn't want to acknowledge her at all, and continue being friends because as much as I was selfish to take what I wanted, I was also aware that I could screw this all to hell if I acted upon my desires.

Every time in school when I caught her staring at me, or touching me casually during lunchtime, brushing my hair playfully, I could recognize that hungry need in her stormy eyes.

Victoria is unique, with her white-blonde hair, and mischievous silver-grey eyes, and a sassy-smart mouth, she made sure that my heart was obliterated to smithereens. Not to mention the sweet scent of her citrusy shampoo and the mild perfume that she wore every day. She wouldn't tell me that she liked me outright because she liked the chase, she enjoyed watching me squirm, hanging onto her every word and I wouldn't say that I disliked it since it made things more thrilling.

I still remember that Sunday evening we were alone at home together, and we'd just finished working on our homework and were watching a sci-fi movie that wasn't keeping my interest. What really had my interest was Vicky's beige crop top that had a low-cut neckline and puff sleeves. She wore it with denim shorts and was casually sprawled over my bed in a way that I had a perfect view of her cleavage.

She was being a tease and trying to get my attention because I could bet she would never wear something like that in public.

It all started from Friday when she saw me laughing and flirting with that nerd from my Calculus class, the one with the watermelon-sized breasts and Vicky naturally began to experience strong feelings of jealously, or perhaps she was envious since she was a 34 A-cup. I know her size because I've been in her house enough times and found her lingerie lying around in her room sometimes fresh out of laundry.

Anyway, back to that day. I suspected her dressing up so goddamn proactively for a study session was only because she wanted to show me that she possessed the assets I was looking for. And to be honest, I don't care about the size. I just wanted Vicky, but she didn't know that.

To tease her, I said, "Did you wear those clothes so you could make me hard?" I'd smiled to keep the tone light.

I saw Vicky's face warm, but she tried to conceal it by laughing, and she responded saying, "Wow. I need to buy you a filter for that mouth."

"Be honest with me, Vicky. You wanted me to be turned on." I told her. "Aren't you going to take responsibility for your actions?"

Of course, I was just teasing her. I didn't think that she would take things seriously, but she'd met my gaze head-on and said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Be careful about what you offer me." I twirled the silver-blonde lock of hair in my hair. "You might regret doing it."

I'd left it hanging there. If she leaned in and kissed me, I wasn't going to be the one to issue another warning. But I was also aware that taking a step too far with Vicky would be like shitting all over my friendship with Archer. He was as important to me as she was. Without them, I wouldn't have any real friends. I needed his permission.

We'd ended up staring at each other for a long moment, and then I'd told her that she wasn't allowed to wear that top or those denim shorts when I wasn't with her. I was ready to be told that it wasn't my business to care about her clothing, but she surprised me with a nod. I might not understand much about the right from wrong about interactions, but I knew how to read postures. She liked it if I tried to control her a little, it was probably because she crushed on me too hard. Trusted me too much.

That was going to be Vicky's ultimate downfall.

Every guy that chased after her, I made sure he would look the other way when she walked in the hallways in school.

And then by some miracle, we started going out. Archer was surprisingly okay with it too, provided I treated his sister right. I thought it would be enough—to have her beside me at all times. It wasn't. I wanted more. I needed stability, and I knew she would give that to me too.

Noah began hanging out with her. Noah-fucking-McCloy—the permanent slice of pineapple on my pizza. He was a constant reminder in my life that Vicky would find a better guy than me, and let me be a little honest with you, Diary.

Good-Boy-Noah didn't have the ability to hurt her, the way I did and yet, I decided to keep her all to myself. I played the cards right, had Noah in check, and annihilated any chances of him being together with her. She was the only other good thing in my life that I was afraid to lose. When mom and dad had screaming matches, I would meet Vicky, and all the bad things faded away.

With time, I realized that Vicky would leave me if she saw my true nature if she were to uncover some of my secrets. No sane woman would want to be together with a killer like me, much less date one. I know I'd killed those men when I was a child but that didn't make the crime disappear. Someday, Vicky would find out and she'd leave. I wanted to stop that from happening. There was only one way to make sure she didn't leave.

This has to be my biggest secret, Diary.

I swapped Vicky's birth control pills with identical-looking vitamin supplements. I kept track of her menstruation cycle and knew exactly the days that if I were to have unprotected sex, she would get pregnant.

I am selfish and I don't regret it.

It was the only way I could permanently bind her to me. A child.

I thought if I got her pregnant, she would be forced to stay with me forever.

If we had a baby together, Vicky couldn't pack and leave. She'd have to marry me, and Archer would be my brother-in-law. We'd be together always just like right now. The way I saw it, it was a win-win situation. Pretty fucked up, I know, to manipulate one's life like that. Some would even call me a monster, and I wouldn't argue with that. A guy like me with a major god-complex, no one would want to be my friend, much less marry regardless of how rich or powerful I was.

I'd thought hard before I decided to do something like that, and saw no other alternative.

The goal was simple: It was never to let Vicky leave me. Like fucking ever.

Noah or anyone didn't matter anymore. Victoria was going to be mine.

I stared at the paper, completely immobilized. Tears botched the paper and I realized I was crying. I flung the pages away, feeling utterly miserable. Burying my face in the pillow, I cried, keeping my hand on my belly—this baby wasn't a product of love. It was pure manipulation. The love that existed was purely one-sided.

I'd been a fool to trust his words, to be blinded by Tyler's warning before. I never thought he would go so far as to do something so vile.

Every muscle tensed, my body locked in rage. The words he'd said to me, the sweet-nothings he'd whispered, and the times he'd looked straight into my eyes and made me believe that I meant something to him, it'd all been lies. All a well-sketched plan to get what he wanted.

He didn't love me, I knew that. If I married him, I'd be under his full control. The diary rambled a lot about me in detail but never said a word about love and that was clearly what it was. Tyler's confessions detailing his obsession with me—his attachment towards me taken to another level.

I'd never thought it would get so serious, I'd tried to accept him the way that he was, but the fog that had clouded my heart and mind had lifted.

Tyler needed professional help!

And, I'd rather live as a single mother than marry him.

I dialed his number; and he picked it up on the third ring.

"Hey." Tyler said on the other end of the line, his voice taking an alarming tone, "Everything okay?"

"I'm breaking up with you, Ty. Do not call me. Do not text. Do not come knocking at my door. If you do, I'll be the one to call the police. Get it?"

I pressed "end call" and switched off my phone.

That's also the time when I started to feel the contractions in my stomach. The stabbing pain was enough to tell me I was going into early labor.