Page 13 of His Darkest Obsession

Help Amara with calculus homework

Amara, Amara, Amara.

But nothing about herself.

The messy desk, which I assume must be Amara’s, is a shrine to typical teenage debris. Crumpled up papers, random doodles, graded math homework, history notes, a biology exam. Sorting through the piles of loose papers, my fingers brush leather and I find a small journal, cover worn soft from handling.

I open it up to the first page, and find that it's dated to June 19th two years ago.

Mom says that I should keep a journal just to help me process my own thoughts about everything lately. But I feel like it would be easier if the three of them would just talk to me instead of keeping me in the dark. Like I'm just a stupid kid. I'm fifteen now, I should be allowed to know what's going on in this family.

I flip a few pages forward, past the typical fifteen-year-old angst about boys and music and clothes she wants to buy. The entry on August 7th catches my eye.

Miels is crying again tonight. She's been doing that a lot this summer. Ever since she got that internship. She pretends like I can't see or hear her cry, but I do. I wish there's something I can do to help, but every time I try to talk to her, she just shuts down and has that look in her eyes again. Like she's staring off into space. Mom and Dad have been staying up late at night with her, and Dad just looks angry most of the time. I want to ask them about what happened or what I can do to help. But I know they'll just tell me to be there for Miels. Ugh! It's not fair!

Miels?I ask myself.I thought her name was Indigo.

I flip through the pages to another entry dated to August 9th, hoping for answers but finding only more questions.

Ryan came by today to see Miels while Mom and Dad were out of the house. That dude gives me the ick. I don't know what Miels sees in him. Yeah, he's a good-looking guy, but I don't trust him. It's like he practices everything he says and does in front of the mirror before doing it. He's so effing fake! At least Miels finally told him to get the fuck out of here. She was shouting as he left. I didn't catch any of it. But afterwards, she shut herself in the bathroom and ran the shower until Mom and Dad came home. I thought Dad would be mad, but he just had that same look in his eyes as Miels did all for the past few weeks. And Mom… Mom is starting to cry at night too. I have to be strong for the three of them. Someone has to be.

My jaw clenches.

Did Ryan hurt Indigo? Ishethe reason why she was crying?

I push on, and read one entry after another. Each one cryptically telling me thatsomethingmust've happened to her on that summer two years ago. But whatever it is, Amara either doesn’t know, or knows better than to write them down.

And if shedidwrite about them, they’re not here for me to read.

Because there are several pages that have been torn out.

Then, there's a single short entry dated back to August 11th.

Miels tells us that she wants us to call her Indigo from now. That it's not safe for us to use her real name anymore. When I said I don't want to, she got scary with me. Like… really scary. I guess it makes sense that she would want to change her name. Especially after what happened to Dad. I hoped that Mom would at least put up a fight about it, but she just went along with Miels. Said that if she wants to be called Indigo, she can. I asked her if it's alright that I still call her Miels every once in a while, and she didn't say anything. But she nodded after a while, and I guess that’s good enough for now.

There are more torn out pages over the ensuing months, and then the journal becomes something much more mundane. Almost like it's a deliberate choice. I do my best to connect the dots, but I can't. Too much is missing for me to do that.

I close the journal and place it back under the pile of papers.

Suddenly, a floorboard creaks behind me.

Someone is here.

I walk out from the bedroom, hand on my gun, and that's when I see her.

Indigo.

Her blue hair is unmistakable, and so are those hazel-green eyes. They're wide with shock, pupils dilated in fear as she takes in the sight of the door that's been kicked open.

Then, she notices my presence and turns towards me.

Something electric sparks between us in that frozen moment. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, and my own breathing syncs with hers. The same magnetic pull I felt in the barbershop draws me toward her, but I force myself to stay still.