Page 131 of Obsession

Of course, he couldn’t stay away and just leave me alone. He’s obsessed.

We both are.

Obsession has us both in its grip, a disease that pulls us closer like magnets.

Seated on the bench by the river that runs near my house, the same river where he first overpowered me and made me feel a sense of relief only he can bring, I hear the crunch of his heavy boots in the snow. I don’t turn my head to look at him. If I do, I’ll fold.

Bathed in the dim glow of a nearby lamppost, I stare at the dark water and the ripples across the still surface.

It’s peaceful. Quiet.

I should shout at him and ask why he withheld the truth from me. Instead, I ask the question on the tip of my tongue, which demands an answer before any of the other countless questions that push for a chance to slip from my lips.

In the quiet of night, accompanied by the hooting owl in the thicket of trees behind us, my heart speaks louder. “Where were you last night?”

His dark shape pauses in my periphery, sensing the tension in the air.

“Where were you?” I ask, fighting to control the maelstrom of emotions inside me.

“I had to stay away. The police kept a close eye on your house.”

A bitter smile plays on my lips, and I scoff before finally swinging my eyes in his direction. My breath catches in my throat at seeing him shrouded in darkness and barely restrained control.

His hood is pulled low over his eyes, and his face is cast in shadows. But I notice every heavy breath that escapes him, a visible cloud of frustration in the air.

“Don’t lie to me. It ends now.”

He steps closer but halts when my voice cuts through the night.

“Stop!”

I should have stayed in the house. It was wrong to lure him to me like this. Wrong to think he would change. A man like Robbie can never change.

“Where were you?”

His leather-gloved hands slowly clench.

Another vagrant breeze seeps through my clothing and chills me to the bone, but I welcome it.

“Beatrix Carr, Robbie.” I rise to my feet, keeping my distance lest I cave to my heart’s call.

Those same fingers unfurl slowly, deliberately.

“Did you kill her, Robbie?”

When he doesn’t reply, I shout, “Did you snatch an eighteen-year-old girl off the street, Robbie?”

Heaving breaths saw through me as he watches me from beneath his hood. The shadows hides the truth in his eyes.

Tears fall, and I swipe angrily at my wet cheeks while he stays silent. “What about my parents? You know them. I saw the yearbook.”

Everything about him stills until he’s nothing more than a cold, soulless statue. Not a breath escapes his lips. Nothing.

The rage inside me chases away the cold. I’m suddenly warm. Too warm. I want to hurt him.

Lash out.

I cross the small distance between us and slam my hands into his chest, forcing him back a step. “You lied to me!” I hit him again and again, my arms burning from the exertion of releasing the pent-up hurt inside. “You lied! Everything has been a lie.”