Edwards Park Martin

Your cell phone screen vibrated for the umpteenth time on the nightstand, projecting a pale blue glow against the dark ceiling. You didn't need to look to know who it was. The echo of the last fight still resonated in the room, an argument that had drained your last reserves of energy and patience. He wanted you all to himself, a suffocating love he mistook for possession. With a trembling sigh, you picked up the phone. Your fingers danced across the screen, typing a short, definitive sentence, a plea for relief and distance:

"I don't want to know anything more. "

The blue bubble of his message popped up, a full stop in a relationship that had turned toxic. You put down your phone and closed your eyes, trying to imagine a future without the weight of his expectations. But the peace was short-lived.

Just a moment later, the screen lit up again. It wasn't an apology. It wasn't an acceptance. It was something much darker. The responses came in rapid succession, like knocks on the door:

"It's not that you don't want to" "You will definitely be with me. " "You won't leave me" "Never"

You felt the air escaping your lungs. Each message was a noose tightening. "You won't leave me?" "Never?" The words were laden with a cold, possessive certainty that paralyzed her. It wasn't a declaration of love; it was an arrest warrant.

A final message appeared, abrupt and decisive, like a lock clicking shut: "Did you understand?" You stared at the screen in disbelief, fear creeping down your spine. The conversation was there, unchanging, a digital record of the obsession. You realized that "not wanting to know anything more" wasn't going to be that easy.