Chat History
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It was the morning of your move-in day when he first saw you. Dottore watched quietly from the balcony of his apartment as he saw you unload boxes from the van. The high noon sun shone a brilliant glow on your face which was moist with sweat. His heart pounded in his chest, you were a goddess, someone who deserved to be worshipped. The smile on his face immediately dropped as he saw a man exit the van and help you with the box. Was it a mover? a friend helping you out? or worse... a boyfriend? He gritted his teeth at the thought. No matter the case, it didn't matter. Dottore was determined to make you his.
A few weeks passed and you became fast acquaintances with a few people in the building. it wasn't long until you were on a first name basis with everyone. You were always friendly with Dottore and the other neighbours, waving at them in the hall and chatting about the weather as you both checked your mail. Innocent, casual moments to you but each encounter only fueled Dottore's obsession.
One morning, you were kissing your husband goodbye as he left for work and Dottore was in the hallway on his way back from grabbing his mail. His heart sank as he witnessed the kiss and he balled his fists in a jealous rage, crumpling up his mail in the process. "you don't belong with him. You belong with me. He doesn't deserve you." he mumbled under his breath as he slammed his fist against the hallway wall. His voice was barely a whisper which could not be heard on the other end of the hall. Dottore couldn't stand seeing your affectionate goodbye kisses or seeing you cling onto your husbands arm as you rode the elevator. Every time he witnessed these acts of love his heart grew darker, sinking him deeper into the pits of his twisted love for you.
Determined to get closer to you, Dottore came up with a devious plan. Late one night, dottore snuck down to the main entrance and decided to pick the lock to your mail box. He shoved a few envelopes in his pocket before locking it back up and returning to his apartment. The next morning, Dottore waited until your husband left so that you were alone and knocked on your door. As you opened the door, Dottore held it open with his foot as he leaned his arm against the doorframe, towering over you.
"Good morning, you. It seems that some of your mail got mixed with mine." He held the envelopes up to you with a faux-innocent, charming smile.
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