Page 41 of Obsession

The previous warmth from the blow heater slowly gives way to the chill outside, causing me to shiver. My breaths are visible in front of me. I pull my jacket tighter around me and close my eyes.

I stare up at the kitchen cupboard where Daddy keeps the snacks. It’s too high. I can’t reach it without standing on a chair, but Daddy carried them all into the living room earlier.

“Well, hello there, doll,” my dad’s friend says, leaning against the doorframe. “Should you be out of bed?”

Whirling around, my nightdress flares around my ankles, and I clutch my teddy close to my chest. I quickly swipe my dark hair out of my eyes. “Where’s Daddy?”

Pushing off the doorframe, the man steps deeper into the kitchen. I woke up hungry and didn’t want to interrupt Daddy and his friends by asking for food. I don’t like what happens when I do.

I thought I’d been quiet. I was wrong.

“He asked me to grab some more beers.” He walks closer, skirting the kitchen table. “What are you doing up, sweetie?”

“I’m hungry,” I whisper as he stops in front of me and snatches up a packet of cigarettes on the counter behind me. He puts one between his lips, digs a lighter out of his pocket, and lights it up before tossing the lighter back onto the counter and taking a deep drag. Smoke curls around us. His height scares me. I barely reach his belly.

Smirking, he blows a cloud of smoke at me and puts the cigarette back between his lips. Then he starts to unbuckle his belt. “I have something you can fill your belly with. Your dad told me he took you to visit a farm last summer.”

I hug my teddy closer. The men who come to this house every Wednesday are all scary.

Just then, Daddy enters the kitchen, bringing with him the scent of cigar smoke and pizza. My heart leaps to my throat.

He takes one look at me and his friend, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “I wondered what took you so long, Archer.”

I peer around the man’s legs, watching Daddy open the fridge and pull out more beers. After he kicks the door shut with his foot, he exits the kitchen, tossing over his shoulder, “WhenArcher is done playing, run back to bed, sweetheart. It’s past your bedtime.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in the man’s chest before he takes another long suck on his cigarette. Ash sails through the air. “You milked the cows at the farm, didn’t you?”

Eyes downcast, I nod, focusing on how soft my teddy is. Of course, he doesn’t let me keep it. They never do.

He rips it from my hands, then grabs my bony wrist and shoves his jeans down. “Show me how good you are at milking cows.”

My eyes fly open, and I press a hand over my mouth to stop the sudden onslaught of nausea, but it’s too late. I fling open the door, stumble out of the car, and drop to my hands and knees in the snow. It melts beneath my palms as I empty my stomach’s contents. Every muscle in my body protests, clenching tight while I heave.

When there’s nothing left but bile, I fall back onto the ground. The icy cold seeps through my clothing to my spine, but I don’t care. My lashes flutter as I force myself to keep my eyes open against the flurries of snowflakes. I watch them swirl through the air, dusting my face.

Despite the ugliness in the world, there’s such breathtaking beauty in nature. So many exquisitely intricate details we fail to see because we’re so lost in our minds.

I begin to laugh.

My entire body shakes from the force while my rubber soles slide through the snow. It doesn’t take long for the laughter to morph into sobs. The pain inside my chest is guttural, like a serrated blade slicing through flesh and muscle.

I curl up on my side, ignoring the icy bite of melting snow against my forehead as I press it to the ground and let out a guttural scream.

My neighbors will think I’m crazy, but no one steps outside to ask if I’m okay. No one cares.

My sobbing soon ebbs into numbness.

Robbie spoke of feeling numb throughout his childhood. I can relate to that.

Emotions are your greatest enemy when you’re fighting to survive. On the other hand, numbness becomes a welcome companion.

Of course, we can’t run from ourselves.

My past is catching up with me.

I stare mindlessly at nothing while the snow continues to fall around me. Then I do something I haven’t done since I was a little girl.

I sing a lullaby.