The Strands of His Obsession

 Nathan never saw himself as a monster.


He was an artist. A collector. A connoisseur of beauty.


And nothing in this world was more beautiful than hair.


###


The police never saw the pattern. The victims were different ages, different backgrounds, different lifestyles. No forced entries, no clear evidence left behind. The only thing that connected them was something no detective ever thought to consider—what was missing.


Their hair.


Nathan was meticulous. He spent weeks watching his chosen ones, admiring them from a distance. It wasn’t just about length or color—it was about the way it moved, the way it shimmered in the light, the way it framed their faces like delicate silk.


He would sit in cafes, on park benches, or in libraries, watching them run fingers through their locks, unaware of the worshipping eyes upon them.


And when he couldn’t resist any longer, he took them.


###


Maria was perfect.


A cascade of dark, glossy waves flowed down her back, untouched by dye or damage. He had followed her for weeks, learning her schedule, memorizing the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was lost in thought.


He wanted that moment frozen in time.


So one night, when Maria walked home alone from her late shift at the bookstore, Nathan made his move.


A cloth over her mouth. A soft struggle. Then darkness.


###


Maria woke to the feeling of fingers combing through her hair.


Panic surged through her as she realized she couldn’t move. Her wrists and ankles were bound, her mouth gagged. She tried to scream, but it came out as a muffled whimper.


“Shhh.”


The voice was calm, soothing, as if he were speaking to a frightened pet.


Nathan sat beside her, the dim light casting shadows over his face. He wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t the kind of man you’d fear on the street. And somehow, that made it worse.


He twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers, eyes filled with reverence.


“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “This isn’t about hurting you. It’s about preserving something… perfect.”


Maria thrashed, tears streaming down her face, but the bonds held firm.


Nathan sighed, almost sadly. “Don’t cry. You should feel honored.”


He reached for the silver scissors resting beside him, their blades gleaming in the dim light. With delicate precision, he gathered her thick hair in his hands.


“Such a shame,” he murmured. “Hair like this should never go to waste.”


The first *snip* echoed through the room.


Maria’s muffled screams filled the air as long, dark strands tumbled to the floor.


Nathan smiled, collecting each lock with care, placing them into the silk-lined case beside him.


Another masterpiece added to his collection.

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