Page 43 of Deadly Obsession
JAMES
PRESENT
“More.” Sera.
“I need you to stay still.” Sera.
“Good boy.” Yes, Sera, I am.
I can’t fucking see!
My body isn’t responding and I don’t understand why.
Trying to focus on my vision alone, I will every ounce of my strength to my eyes.
I blink till my world slowly comes back into view.
At first, all I can make out is the dark outline of Sera’s head.
Over me. Blocking out the brilliant Texas sun.
She looks like the Mother Mary wearing a golden halo.
Sera.
The more I blink, the clearer everything becomes, and the more I realize the figure standing over me is not my Harps. It’s a woman, but she’s blond—at least from what I can tell from the strand of hair hanging loosely from her medical mask.
“I think that’s it for now,” the woman says, though her voice seems much more distant than it should be. She pats my chest. “James, you did very well today. ”
I want to respond. To yell: Who the fuck are you? Where is Sera? And where am I?
I want to, but I can’t. The majority of my body is restrained and that includes the rubber bite guard filling my mouth. Feeling a surge of panic and rage, I struggle to gain my freedom.
“It’s okay, James!” I hear that voice again, just before there’s a sharp pinch in my neck. Not long after that, my eyes grow heavy.
“James? Oh, come now, James. We aren’t done yet. I need you,” Sera says so softly.
I bury my face in my hands and rub at my eyes for a few seconds, before sitting up and staring at my palms in confusion. Sera is sitting in front of me, at the foot of our bed, with a bundle of pink cradled in her arms.
“Rose, your daddy is so sleepy. He works so hard to protect us.”
I slowly push up and lean forward, smiling at her words.
Rose is my pride and joy. I love Alexander as much as any father loves his son.
However, without shame, I would openly tell any court in the land that I love my little Rose in a different, magical sort of way. It’s my duty as a father of a princess.
“Nonsense, Harps. Let me hold her,” I say, rising from my chair and beckoning for the product of our undying love.
Sera meets me halfway, transferring the pink bundle from her arms to mine. “Here you are, James.”
I can feel the smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I hold my daughter to my chest and lower myself back into my seat. My eyes drift downward. Where, to my confusion, I see a thick red journal instead of a pink blanket.
“What is this?” I say softly, not recognizing my own voice as I lean back in my chair. I lift one hand and massage my throat while the other opens the journal and starts to flip through the pages. Filled with my handwriting.
“It’s your journal, James. We’ve been over this. It’s where you keep all of your memories of what happened, of what happened two years ago, and we sort through them. So you can accept the truth.”
My eyes shift from the journal in my lap up to the woman sitting across from me, a pen and pad on the desk in front of her.
“ What really happened? ” I clench my fingers around the binding of the journal.
“ What really happened! I know what really happened! None of you will listen to me!” I throw the journal across the desk, hitting some sort of decorative statue off the bookshelf behind her.
Before I have the opportunity to do anything else, something hard collides with the side of my head.
When I wake next, it’s with a splitting headache. I slowly search my immediate surroundings with my hands and come to the conclusion I’m in a small bed. Opening my eyes confirms it, though.
“Still fucking here,” I curse as I stand from the plain cot beneath me, my eyes dashing to the bunk above mine. Only comforted by the silver lining that at least they haven’t tried to give me another roommate.
Not that I really suspected they would. Not since my last one ended up paralyzed from the waist down.
I step towards the desk where my journal sits, and a scent steals my attention. Vanilla. Lunging over to the small open window in the wall, I grip the bars, press my face as close as I can, and peer out .
My room here at the Villa de Psycho must be one of the best, because it comes with a view. I can see the entire 7-Eleven at the corner down the street. Except what I see now steals the air from my lungs.
Sera, wearing my brand’s hoodie and sweatpants, just like that night two years ago. She’s holding a pink bundle, Alexander standing at her side and grabbing on to her pants pocket. His eyes so full of pain as he grips a vintage Goliath action figure in his free hand.
Before I can call out her name, a large tractor trailer drives by, advertising the newest model of Ford Mustang. My teeth grit so hard together I’m certain one will crack.
Somehow, in the mere seconds it takes for that trailer to pass by, all three of them are fucking gone. My girls and my chosen son are out there, and I’m locked in here!
“Sera!” I scream until my throat bleeds. I scream until everything goes black again.