Page 62 of Obsession

I’m torn from my racing thoughts when the door opens, and my face lights up despite the pep talk I gave myself on the long drive here. I’m helpless when it comes to my own runaway emotions.

But it’s not Robbie who enters.

It’s my own nightmare.

My smile falls, and I stiffen in my seat. This is not happening. My nightmares are not creeping out from beneath my bed after I banished them that fateful day.

I am not the frightened little girl anymore. I refuse to be.

But my eyes still well with tears as Officer Miller shuts the doors and flips the lock. I know what he’s about to say even before he says it.

His keys jangle at his side, and he makes a show of walking closer with slow, measured steps, looking like a cat who caught the canary. “Hammond won’t be seeing you today. He’s spending some much-needed time in solitary.”

No…

My head shakes.

No… Robbie promised to kill him. I marked Miller for the reaper. I left my lipstick on his neck.

I sucked his dick to keep Hammond safe. I lowered myself to my knees for another sick and twisted man despite promising myself not to let anyone make me feel like the little girl who had her teddy ripped from her hands. Yet here I am, shaking like a leaf.

Miller strokes my hair away from my shoulder before cupping my chin. “You’re pretty when you cry.”

I don’t even have it in me to glare at him. For once, I’m just broken.

“It’s not all bad, sweetheart. I’m here to look after you.”

“No…” The word dances on my lips, barely a broken whisper.

His fingers dig into my chin, and he yanks my eyes to his when I try to peer out through the window at the skinny trees.

They’re so beautiful as they move with the wind, the stillness wrapping around their crooked branches.

“Look at me.”

I do. What other choice do I have? He has played his cards.

“I sensed a little reluctance on your part last week, and I needed you to see that I’m in charge here, sweetheart. Hammond’s life is in my power, and if you want to see him again, if you want to sleep soundly at night knowing Hammond has access to food at regular hours and a TV, or even as much as that tattered paperback he loves so much, then you’ll spread your legs for me.”

When I try to free my chin, he grabs it with his full palm and digs his fingers into my cheeks.

He bends down and snarls in my face, “Fucking look at me, whore. For every pathetic tear you cry, I’ll add on an extra day in solitary and take away a meal.”

He lets go, jerks me up by my arm, and bends me over the table. I don’t even fight him when he yanks my pantsand underwear down. I know he’ll make true to his promise. Hammond’s last days on this earth are precious to him, and the thought that he might never breathe the crisp fresh air outside again is a thought that strangles me more than Miller’s tight grip on the back of my neck.

Miller unzips his pants, and they fall to his ankles.

I stare at the wall, bracing my hands on the table’s edge, then push back against it when Miller invades my body and mind with his own brand of evil.

I’m just a hole. I’m not here. I’m somewhere else, sitting beside a lonely, condemned man with a tormented mind in the dark. He’s looking at me through those sorrowful blue eyes barely visible in the dim light, while I stroke the backs of my knuckles down his stubbly cheek, whispering, “I’m yours.”

“I will avenge you, baby. Just hold on a little bit longer.”

I hush him, tracing his stubble, marveling at how my heart beats faster at the feel of it beneath his fingertips. My fingers skim his upper lip, and I flick my gaze up.

He captures my wrist and leans in to place soft kisses along my jaw. I can barely breathe, lashes fluttering, and he whispers in my ear, “I’m here, baby. It’s me you feel. Always me.”

“I’m scared,” I admit as he brushes his thumb across the pulse point in my wrist in a soothing motion.