"Jealousy Two"
a murder by numbers fanfiction
SchizoAuthoress schizoauthoress@hotmail.com
Why am I so possessive of you? We're supposed to hate each other. You can't stand me. That's why we agreed to do this. . . we'd never be associated with each other.
But I'm watching them, like a fucking Peeping Tom. Watching him.
I never expected to develop a crush on you. Or that this crush would just. . .*last* the way that it has. Usually, I have a kind of appreciation for how beautiful someone is. . .jump into bed with them, then forget it.
So why am I here? Am I getting jealous. . .suspicious. . .resentful? Of who, Justin? No, not of Justin. Of Lisa.
The way he looks at her. . .that's how I want him to look at *me.* He's everything to me.
Everything.
Maybe it's because I never got into your pants. But somehow. . .I think it's more than that.
I told him I was free, but in reality, I'm chained to him. A willing little puppet slave chained to his master. The 'longing' looks he gives me with those puppyish blue eyes. . .the softest, slightest pout of those luscious lips. . .Oh, God. I want him. I want him so bad.
I can't stand to see him with that whore. She's not good enough for him. Hell, I'm not good enough for him. No one is.
No one.
Dammit, Justin, don't drag yourself down in the dirt with her. You are an angel.
You're my angel.
Why am I so possessive of you? We're supposed to hate each other. You can't stand me. That's why we agreed to do this. . . we'd never be associated with each other.
But I'm watching them, like a fucking Peeping Tom. Watching him.
I never expected to develop a crush on you. Or that this crush would just. . .*last* the way that it has. Usually, I have a kind of appreciation for how beautiful someone is. . .jump into bed with them, then forget it.
So why am I here? Am I getting jealous. . .suspicious. . .resentful? Of who, Justin? No, not of Justin. Of Lisa.
The way he looks at her. . .that's how I want him to look at *me.* He's everything to me.
Everything.
Maybe it's because I never got into your pants. But somehow. . .I think it's more than that.
I told him I was free, but in reality, I'm chained to him. A willing little puppet slave chained to his master. The 'longing' looks he gives me with those puppyish blue eyes. . .the softest, slightest pout of those luscious lips. . .Oh, God. I want him. I want him so bad.
I can't stand to see him with that whore. She's not good enough for him. Hell, I'm not good enough for him. No one is.
No one.
Dammit, Justin, don't drag yourself down in the dirt with her. You are an angel.
You're my angel.