Page 99 of Obsession

He nods once, slowly, his eyes sliding past me to the curtains before he pins me in place once more and skates his assessing gaze down the length of my body and back. “Maybe they are, but something tells me they’re not. The evidence so far points back to you. Robbie developed an unhealthy obsession with the reporter tasked to interview him. Unhealthy enough that he murdered two prison officers to escape. Why? To seek you out. And now people fromyourpast are going missing.” His cell phone rings, and he slides it out of his pocket. After he takes note of the caller ID, he dims the screen. “We’ll be in touch soon.” Helifts his chin to the curtains. “You should open them once in a while. Let the sun in.”

With a final polite smile, he pivots and exits the kitchen, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

I plop down on the chair and burrow my face in my hands. Exhaustion weighs heavily on my shoulders. What a mess. What an absolute clusterfuck of a situation I’ve found myself in.

I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms and let my shoulders slump. What the hell am I supposed to do? I have the police sniffing around, and Robbie, who’s too scared to get close, thinks it’s a good idea to gift me body parts. What happened to flowers and chocolates?

Heading upstairs, I leave the box on the counter. I’m too exhausted to worry about Robbie’s love token tonight.

After flipping the light switch in my bedroom, I pause.

Curled up on my bed is a ginger tabby.

At the sound of my approaching footsteps, it lifts its head and stares at me before deciding I’m not a threat. It begins to purr, the sound loud in the quiet afternoon.

I swallow hard and walk closer, glancing behind me as though the boogeyman is ready to jump out of the wardrobe.

It’s not. Nothing happens.

When I look back, my eyes catch on a playing card beside the cat—a queen of hearts with tattered corners. Excited, I scan my eager gaze around the room, praying and foolishly hoping for further evidence of his visit, before catching on the single rose on top of the laptop on my desk. Trapping my lip between my teeth, I bite back a smile.

Robbie was here.

But why the cat?

Frowning, I swing my attention back to the purring tabby, which lowers its head back down, eyes closed as it flicks its tail.

I take a seat on the mattress, pick up the queen card, and turn it over in my hand. My lips tilt upward in a soft smile, and something warm unfurls in my chest. I scratch the snoozing cat behind its ear. Robbie is an elusive enigma with more shades and layers than any man I’ve ever met. He’s a complicated maze of uncharted tunnels to get helplessly lost in, and I shouldn’t be this intrigued by the mystery or the sweet aroma of lurking danger around every corner.

“What’s your name?” I ask the cat, stroking the backs of my fingers over its head.

Outside, the streetlights come on. I sit in silence, stroking the tabby, allowing my heartbeat to settle while the cat continues to purr beneath my fingers.

“I’ll have to think of a name for you,” I suggest. “How about Whiskers?” My nose crinkles. “Unoriginal, huh?”

A conversation comes to mind—one I had with Robbie. My eyes widen, and I scramble off the bed. My recorder sits beside the laptop on my desk. I pick it up and place the headphones over my ears. My heart slams against my chest as the deep baritone of Robbie’s voice slithers over my skin.

I lean back against the desk and let my gaze drift to the bed and the sound-asleep cat gifted to me by a man who’s too scared to get close. My heart twinges as Robbie’s voice caresses my ears.

She asked me if I was going to name it. I remember watching my mother pull open a drawer before she turned and looked at me expectantly. I had to think of something quickly, or she’d get angry. I blurted the first name that came to mind, “Whiskers.”

“How original,” was her response. She was unimpressed, rolling her eyes. But that was nothing new. I could never impress my mom or make her proud, no matter how much I tried, so I took a seat at the table with the kitten while she wentback to digging through the kitchen drawers. I was curious, so I asked her where she found it.

Silence follows for a brief moment before Robbie’s deep sigh slides over my skin like a soft touch, a stroke that has my lips parting on a shaky inhale.

Happiness felt scarier than the fear I’d become numb to. And the feelings swirling through my veins as I stroked that kitten felt too big to be contained. It was as though it could drown me at a moment’s notice. Let’s just say, it didn’t last long.

Mom told me it was a stray, then slammed a drawer shut. She was always angry. I remember the hatred in her eyes when she explained that the kitten had been pissing on the trailer.

Tears slide down my cheeks while I stare at the cat on the bed. I don’t care what anyone says about Robbie or how monstrous they make him out to be; there’s goodness inside him too. Goodness that calls to my broken parts like an ethereal melody in a haunted forest. So what if I lose myself? Maybe I’d rather disappear into the night than be endlessly adrift in the daylight.

42

ROBBIE

Fast asleep on her side with the cat curled up against her chest, she looks like an innocent dream that I want to turn into a nightmare and corrupt beyond repair. The voices are silent for now, soothed by her presence.

Standing by her bedside, I stroke her hair away from her brow. My own pull down low. Why is it that my chest always tightens in her presence? The urge to be around her,near her, to touch her, kiss her, andclaim hertugs at my heart. I don’t like how powerless she makes me feel, yet I can’t stay away. I don’twantto stay away. Not when she’s the sun that parts the clouds or the silence that calms the voices inside my head.