TRIGGER WARNINGS (PLEASE READ): This story and series as a whole features explicit stalking and non-consent. Please do not read if you are at all sensitive to those topics.

IMPORTANT NOTES: It goes without saying that while it's fun to read and write stories like these, the actions of the male main character are reprehensible and in real life, he should go straight to jail. He is a sadistic psycho, and is both possessive and obsessive to an extremely unhealthy and damaging degree.

This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

(All parts to this story can be found here when they are published!💜)

There’s a single white rose on my nightstand.

I didn’t put that there, nor do I know anyone who could. My sister doesn’t have a key to my house, and I certainly don’t have a romantic partner. But even if it was someone in my life, why the fuck would they place it on my nightstand while I’m asleep?

Is it a prank? I have no idea, and when I pick up the rose with shaking hands, dread pools in my stomach. I study it, rolling it between my fingers from where I sit on my bed. The worst part is that I’m completely naked, so whoever put this here saw me naked.

And when I put the flower back down where I found it, I admit to myself what I wish I’d never have to.

Someone broke into my fucking house.

I spend the entire morning scouring the entire house. Every closet, every corner, and every room. Nothing is missing, and that is terrifying, because it only confirms what I suspected when I found the flower.

Whoever broke into my house wasn’t a robber or a murderer. They came for me. And I’m dreading to find out why.

I can’t even call the police to tell them. I have no cameras, and other than the flower, there’s zero evidence of a break-in. Whatever evidence might’ve been there has certainly been erased when I flipped my house upside down.

Whoever gave me this lovely gift didn’t include any identifying information, let alone information about what they want with me.

But if they want to hurt me, wouldn’t they have done it already? Since they, presumably, saw my naked, sleeping form, wouldn’t they have hurt me then and there?

And if they still do want to hurt me, despite ignoring that opportunity, why?

I spend hours looking at security cameras online, even forgetting to eat lunch, and I then head out to buy a couple.

It feels surreal. The kid helping me with finding security cameras to catch my stalker can’t be more than eighteen years old, yet he’s eagerly listing off benefits of certain brands to me like I’m just an ordinary person being cautious.

“Why do you want cameras in your house anyway?” he asks casually, and my eyes snap to his. I try my best to school my features into neutrality, like I’m totally not in danger, but he catches it. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, sorry. I’m just, uh,” I hesitate. “A bit paranoid, I suppose.” Maybe I am just paranoid, but if some stranger saw me naked then I want to know who that is.

“Ah,” he smiles. “Good to be paranoid these days, I suppose. You can never be too safe!” Isn’t that the truth?

I offer a weak smile, and he continues to give me the basics of another brand. When I inform him I want cameras for every room in my house, he eyes me suspiciously again, like he doesn’t quite believe that I’m just paranoid. Luckily, he doesn’t push the subject, and I breathe a small sigh of relief when he sets up an appointment for some guys to help set up my new security system tomorrow morning.

I don’t know why, but I expect another little gift when I get home later that day, but I don’t find anything. If anything, the fact that my suspicions don’t get confirmed by another flower just makes me antsy.

If it was a one-time thing then I’ve just wasted thousands of dollars on this, but that’s of little comfort when I lay in my bed, unable to sleep.

I was telling myself, earlier today, that I had to sleep, that I couldn’t just stay up all night. But now, even as I’m exhausted, I just can’t find it in me to close my eyes. What if I get another visit tonight?

If I do, at least I’ll be dressed. I don’t think I can ever sleep naked again, so I’ve pulled on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts.

But I know that won’t keep me safe if they come for me again. And that’s why I can’t sleep. All the unanswered questions play on repeat in my head, but most of all…

What if they do more than just give me flowers?

When I wake up the next morning, I gasp and sit up immediately.

I can’t fucking believe it. I fell asleep. I get out of bed immediately to look for evidence of an intruder.

Nothing.

No flower, no footprints, no disturbance of any kind. I let out a loud groan of frustration just as my doorbell rings. The sound startles me, but when I yank the door open, I internally facepalm at how I forgot that the security guys were coming over today.

I gasp. “Sorry!” I yell out as I run to pull on a pair of sweats.

I hear a couple of the guys snicker. “No worries, ma’am!” one of them calls after me, and I just know this event will be retold to all his friends.

The new security system is extensive and complicated, and it takes the guys a couple hours to fully install it. All the while, I remain evasive whenever they question me about why I want the cameras.

I refuse to go into detail about why, giving a vague, “I’m just paranoid,” but I can tell they’re not satisfied.

Whatever.

When they leave, I spend some time playing around with the new security system.

There’s cameras in every room, giving a good view of most of the important details, such as my bed, windows, doorways, and the driveway. If someone manages to evade this system, then I’m likely dealing with a superhuman, and it’s beyond my control at that point.

With that thought in mind, I settle down on the couch with a plate of dinner and a good show.

I fall asleep a few hours later, feeling a little more secure.

It’s been a week since I received my flower. The morning after I installed my security system, I expected my newfound security to be dashed by another break-in, but there was no sign of any intruders.

I even combed through the entire night’s worth of camera footage, but other than finding that, yes, I do indeed snore (sorry, Evan, I believe you now), I found no disturbance of any kind.

And there hasn’t been an incident since then. I’ve reached the point where I’ve even begun gaslighting myself into believing the rose never existed. That can’t be true, given how its wilting petals are in my bedside drawer, but part of me is starting to think I’m imagining all this.

I had called in sick the first three days after my break-in, but I’ve started going back to work again. Every time I get back home, I expect another break-in, but there’s been nothing.

It’s disappointing, in a way, to not only have my fears go unconfirmed, but to be questioning my own sanity. If this is all in my head, what does that say about me?

When I run my trail this morning, I feel a little lighter. Sure, the rose is absolutely terrifying, and the fact that I haven’t been able to identify my intruder is even more so. But I’m allowing myself to not think on it, at least for now. Maybe they got spooked off by my cameras, or maybe they got bored.

What if they just had the wrong house?

Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but point is, I feel safe, at least somewhat, for the first time since I woke up that morning.

When I get home, I don’t even bother checking my house or my cameras like I normally do. I strip off my equipment and make my way upstairs to shower, placing my phone on the little table I have just outside the bathroom.

I take my time showering, allowing the water to lull me into a sense of calm. It’s refreshing, not worrying, and I even manage to rub one out, that’s how relaxed I am.

I dry myself off, then head out again to grab my phone.

But then, my heart stops. My knees buckle, and I have to grip the doorframe with a shaky hand to stay upright.

Because my phone is no longer alone on the table.

Right next to it, is another single white rose.

“Holy shit,” I mutter. “Holy fucking shit.” I hurry to put on a bathrobe, not bothering to do my haircare routine, and rush to my bedroom and lock the door. I know there might be an intruder in my house at this very moment, but I’m not going to find out myself.

Instead, I pull out my laptop and hurry to check all the cameras. Everything looks fine, and when I check the timeline from the hallway outside my bathroom, I find nothing.

No, I realize. I watch myself enter the bathroom after my run, then there’s a cut five minutes later. In one frame, there’s no flower, and in the next, there it is, laying serenely on my table.

Dread pools in my stomach. Whoever broke into my house just now not only gave me another flower, but also managed to somehow manipulate the camera footage.

And I realize, that aside from hacking into it remotely, there was only one way to manipulate the footage. The only way they could’ve done this is by using the very laptop I have on my lap, here in my bedroom.

I practically throw it off me onto the bed and rush out my bedroom door. I run back into my bathroom and lock the door behind me, making sure to grab my phone as I do.

I hurry to dial 9-1-1, nervously tapping my foot until someone picks up.

“9-1-1, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

“There’s someone in my house,” I rush out. The dispatcher asks for my address and then asks some routine questions, all while I’m fighting back tears and anxiously waiting for police to arrive.

They get here within twenty minutes, and I finally gather the courage to exit my bathroom. I don’t even care about the fact I’m just in a robe as they sit me down on the couch and begin questioning me.

“Do you know who broke into your house today?”

“No, I…I was showering, and when I left the bathroom, I found this white rose laying outside.” I go to show them, and they put it in a plastic bag. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“How do you know the rose wasn’t there already?”

My eyes snap to the officer’s. His stupid face looks incredibly bored, like he doesn’t care that someone broke into my house, but I remain calm as I say, “I did not put that there.”

“Well, do you have a boyfriend who could’ve put it there while you were out?”

“No!” I exclaim. “And even if I did, I’d know if he’s the type of guy to leave behind creepy little gifts.”

The officer sighs, and I barely keep from narrowing my eyes on him. “Well, there’s just not a lot to go on. A rose and some odd camera footage.” He starts to get up, putting away his little notepad as he does. “Let us know if something happens again, but until then, we can’t do anything.”

He doesn’t even apologize or give me a goodbye as he leads his fellow officers out of my house, leaving me in a ball of anxiety in my living room.

The next day, I head to my sister Sophie’s house.

“Thanks for letting me stop by,” I tell her when she leads me into her living room. Sophie’s husband, Robert, gives me a curt nod when I settle on the couch.

“You ladies need anything to drink?” he asks.

“Some wine, please,” Sophie tells him, giving me a coy little smile when Robert goes to grab a few glasses. “I trained him well,” she whispers to me under her breath, and I let out a genuine laugh.

Despite the terrifying situation I find myself in, my sister never fails to make me laugh. She’s older than me by a few years, though not many, and we’ve been best friends more or less our entire lives.

Which is why I’m here to unload all my issues onto her shoulders. It might be selfish, but I need to tell someone other than an uncaring police officer, if only to make sure I’m not losing my mind.

She gives Robert a kiss when he leaves, giving us privacy, then turns back to face me. “So, what’s going on? Why the visit on such short notice?”

“What, I can’t visit my sister unannounced anymore?” I try to joke, but the tremble in my voice betrays me.

Sophie’s hands clasp around mine. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes soften, telling me without words to start talking.

“I think…I might have a stalker.”

She gasps, like I’ve just announced someone’s death. “What?” she demands.

“I’m not sure,” I rush to clarify, though at this point, I am very fucking certain. “But someone’s been leaving me flowers.” I tell the entire week-long story, barely taking any breaths between sentences, and when I finish, silence fills the room.

“You’re staying with us,” Sophie declares after a pause.

“No!” I can’t drag them into this. It’s one thing to tell her about my stalker, but if I stay here when they decide to come after me, then they’d be right in the crossfire. “I can’t.”

“Oh no you fucking don’t,” she continues. “This is serious, Elsie. A stalker? Hello?”

She’s right, but she’s missing my point. “Sophie, I can’t drag you into this. Please don’t make me do that.”

“You wouldn’t! Robert is built like a truck, have you seen him?” I have, and he’s massive. “He’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“I’m sure he would, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’d be putting you two in danger.” I take a breath. “What if they bring a gun? What will you do then?”

“What will you do then? Would you rather be alone when that happens, or be with us? With Robert?”

I sigh. “I love you, Sophie, but please don’t make me put you in danger. I promise if it escalates, I’ll stay here. Okay?”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, instead studying my face, like she’s looking for any lies in my features. Her lips thin right before she says, “Fine. But from now on, you’re going to call me every day and give me updates. Got it?”

My sister is nothing if not protective. “I will. I promise.”

We say our goodbyes, and I reiterate my promise to her with a hug. She’s terrified for me, and I honestly regret telling her at all, but I know that for my own safety, it’s better that she knows now than after I get chopped to bits.

Hopefully it won’t come to that, though.

When I get home, I give Sophie a quick call like promised, right before I get ready for bed.

Sleeping in my bed feels terrifying now, and so I prop a chair against the door as an extra security measure.

Knowing my luck, though, my intruder is already hiding somewhere in my room.

I somehow managed to fall asleep, but the next day, I wake up to yet another flower on my nightstand.

I twirl it between my fingers as I study my bedroom. The chair is still propped onto the door and hasn’t moved as far as I tell. All my closets are clear, the windows are shut, and the camera footage is clean, aside from an awkward cut when the flower appears.

Is it bad that I feel a little used to the flowers by now? Probably, but that doesn’t change that I’m terrified.

I spend most of the day outside, first at work and then working out for several hours. I’m spent by the time I get back home that evening, and I desperately need a shower, but I decide to leave all my doors open when I do.

I don’t even close the shower curtain, all in an effort to see if someone breaks in.

No one does, but as I put on my bathrobe, I pull out my laptop, just to do a sweep of the cameras. And when I get to the one for my driveway, I stop breathing, as I see a man standing at the edge of it, watching my front door.

I close my laptop immediately, rushing to the window by my front door.

My heart stops when I catch sight of him. He’s dressed head to toe in black, his face covered by a mask, and his posture is all too casual.

And he’s fucking huge too. His arms are so big I’m sure he could snap me in two like a twig.

But…is this him? The one who has been leaving me flowers? The one who broke into my house while I was showering?

If it’s not him, then he’s still absolutely terrifying, standing there with his hands in his pockets, staring right at me. I go to pull out my phone, just so I can have 9-1-1 on the ready, but then he pulls out his own phone too.

A moment later, a text appears on my screen.

Unknown number: Anyone you call for help will end up dead. This is your one and only warning.

When I look back up, he’s moved a few feet closer. I let out a small sob of pure terror, and his eyes crinkle, like he’s fucking smiling at me.

I write a text back with shaking hands.

Elsie: What do you want with me?

I stare at him with rapt attention, waiting for him to answer my question. He doesn’t even read the text. He’s just staring at me.

Then, from his back pocket, he pulls out a white rose, placing it in the middle of my driveway. He then walks away, and I get an answer to my earlier question.

It is him.

That night, I don’t sleep at all. And when I get up the following morning, there’s no evidence of my stalker having been in my house.

I think I’m losing my mind. The fact that I’ve confirmed he’s an actual person, and that he could kill me with his bare hands, has made my situation all the more serious.

I also see several missed calls from Sophie, as I didn’t call her last night, and when I call her back, she immediately picks up.

“Oh my god, what the hell, Elsie?” she demands, and I wince.

“I’m sorry, I completely forgot. I’m okay, I promise.” I’m lying through my fucking teeth.

“Are you? Has nothing happened?”

My stalker’s threat from last night plays on repeat in my head. I regret telling her at all, at this point. I’m stuck between lying to her and saying I’m fine, or involving her in this to a greater degree, and potentially putting her in danger.

“I’m fine.” I can’t stand lying to Sophie, but I’d rather die with a knife through my abdomen than put my sister in danger.

We finish up our conversation, and I head to work, feeling more scared than I ever have before.

I scrutinize every man I pass, trying to match them up to my stalker, but none look like him.

I manage to catch some sleep, counting the 24 hours without an incident as a victory, but when I wake up the next morning, I find a new gift on my nightstand.

Not only is there a flower, but there’s a polaroid picture, too. It’s a picture of me, asleep in my bed. My stalker took a picture of my sleeping body, then left it as a gift for me.

When I read the note on the back, I lay my head down and let a few, silent tears roll down my cheeks.

You look so pretty when you sleep, Elsie. See you soon.

Fuck, I love the sound of Elsie’s tears. She sounds so broken and knowing that I broke her gives me such pleasure.

I wish I could see it in person but watching her through her own security system will have to do. I was amused when she had that installed, as even though I’d already been watching her through my own cameras for months, the shiny new cameras offered much better angles and quality.

Thanks for that, Elsie. There’s truly nothing like watching you come through the cameras you think make you safe.

A small sob escapes Elsie’s plush lips, and the sound travels straight to my aching cock. It’s not like I haven’t seen her cry before, whether that be when her dog died or when she’s reading a particularly sad book, but there’s something about me causing her tears that just makes them that much sweeter.

Don’t worry, baby.

Soon, the only tears she will shed will be because of the way I scare her. Hurt her. Fuck her.

She’ll learn to love it, too, I’m sure. And if she doesn’t, that’s too bad, because I’m not leaving her be.

I’m a patient man, but I’ve been waiting long enough. The time I left her that first white rose was not the first time I’d been in her house, but knowing how scared she’d be when she woke up made it that much harder to leave without taking her then and there.

And every time since then, I’ve been unable to give her my gifts, watch her through her cameras, or stand in her driveway without my cock growing so thick that it hurts.

If anything, she should be thankful that I’m giving her time to get used to the way I am. I’m not ashamed of being obsessive, certainly not when it’s not even my fault.

I didn’t choose Elsie. She chose me. When I first saw her, I knew I’d never be the same. Not with the way her long legs carried her on her run, or the way the swell of her breasts nearly overflowed over her tight sports bra.

That very same night, I broke into her house for the first time, and I just stared at her beautiful, naked form as she slept soundly, unaware of the monster in her room.

I’ve done the same most nights since. Some of it is to give me time to plan out what I want to do with her, but most of it is because a part of me enjoys torturing myself by keeping myself away from her naked body.

The way her pale thighs straddle her covers, like she will with my head soon enough, or the way her breasts rise and fall when she breathes…Watching her all this time is going to make the moment I take her just that much sweeter.

She’ll fight me, I’m sure. She’ll scream at me, scratch me, maybe even bite me if I’m lucky, but I can take it.

God knows I will do way worse to her.

And she will learn to love it, to love me, whether she likes it or not.

After fucking my fist to the sight of her beautiful sobs, I close the laptop and go grab my next gift.

She’ll hate it, but I’m not giving her this for her sake. Everything I do to her serves one singular purpose.

To make her mine.

Thank you so much for reading!💜 This is my first story like this, and I plan on making this a longer series. Feedback and general thoughts are greatly appreciated, especially for a story such as this one! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter, and will enjoy the chapters to come💜