Page 74 of Obsession

I was a monster.

As the voices drifted closer, I bolted.

32

SAVANNAH

After placing the last plate on the dish rack, I wipe my wet hands on a towel.

I peer out the window. A lone lamppost lights up the unmarked cop car across the street, which sits in the shadows. I’m starting to suspect they’re not here for my safety. No, they’re hoping Robbie might seek me out. The twinge in my heart tells me I do too. In fact, I’m willing to say screw it all and do something really fucking reckless.

I bet Robbie is out there somewhere, waiting and watching. I also bet he’d come after me if I left the house.

It’s a bad idea.

The worst.

Why am I even contemplating this?

The responsible thing to do would be to stay here, where it’s safe. Not leave the house and coax a serial killer out of the shadows.

Discarding the towel, I reach forward to pull the curtains closed, then turn and lean back against the counter. I stare at the fridge, the floor, the broom propped against the wall.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I pining after a psychopath? Why do I hold on to some ridiculous notion that we shared a connection?

What kind of a connection is it possible to have with a cold-hearted murderer? Is he even capable of emotions? Though the rose on my bed has me clinging to hope. Why would he leave a rose if he had no feelings? Why go through the trouble?

Fuck it! I push off the counter and make a beeline for the hallway.

I’ll be in big trouble if someone finds out that I’m sneaking outside. Chapman won’t hesitate to bring me in for questioning.

But it’s worth the risk. I can’t stay locked away like a princess in a tower forever. Sooner or later, I must face the villain in my fairytale.

“Stupid, so fucking stupid,” I mutter under my breath, putting on my coat and reaching for my mustard scarf. “You’ll get yourself killed, Savannah.” I wrap it loosely around my neck before sliding my feet into my shoes and walking back into the living room, only to find my reflection staring back at me through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s so dark out there that I can’t see anything.

Before I can change my mind, I cross the room, unlock the patio doors, and quickly slip outside into the dark night.

Snow crunches underfoot as I hurry down the side of the house, in the opposite direction of the cop car.

I don’t look back. My warm breaths gust from my lungs in puffs of air with every step farther away from the safety of my house. Soon, the tip of my nose grows numb, and I burrow deeper into my woolly scarf.

I turn down another road, this one darker. My footsteps quicken as chills crawl down my spine, and the hairs on my neck stand on end. I deliberately choose to step off the main path, away from prying eyes and nosy cops.

As I reach the river, my heart beats heavily against my ribcage. I set off down the sanded footpath with no direction in mind. The streetlights are spaced far apart. Shadows stretch tall and wide before me, like black voids or grotesque monsters.

All around me, the silence thickens.

Ominous and suffocating.

Snow crunches beneath my boots, and my panting breaths compete with the loud thudding of my heart. I glance behind me, scanning the empty footpath and fir trees.

It’s too quiet.

I swallow around a thick lump, my instincts screaming at me to take off in a run. Facing forward again, I quicken my step when crunching footsteps disturb the silent night. Adrenaline sparks a jolt of anxiety. I’m no longer alone on this deserted footpath by the river.

I walk faster, and my heart thrashes wildly as I fight the urge to look behind me again.

Despite the flicker of hope inside me, fear is an emotion that shouts louder, threatening to steal the air from my lungs.