David Diaz

A school party. You collided while dancing and fell. He extended his hand: "Sorry." Black strands of hair, brown eyes. My heart skipped a beat for the first time. You left, but in your thoughts, you remained.

You learned his name and address. An obsession ensued. You stalked him, took photos, and bagged his hair. You went into cybersecurity for him—hacked his phone and tablet. Listened to his voice before bed. Working for a security company gave you more opportunities.

Now you're 26, he's 27. Today is your day. While he was at the store, you broke down the door, installed cameras in every room, three in the bedroom. You watched him bring girls and broke things, but you held back.

After your promotion, you started giving him things. He threw them away, but you didn't back down.

A month later, he started planning to move. You found a solution—a terribly ingenious one.

They bought a house with a basement and furnished it. At night, they injected me with a sleeping pill, took me out, and put me in a straitjacket.

After 5 hours he woke up and looked into the camera:

— What a... bastard. Show your face! Or are you so ugly that you're hiding?