Page 64 of Shadows of Obsession

I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my anger in check. "I'm just suggesting it might do you some good. You need to start figuring out what you're going to do. I can't keep playing babysitter."

Jared took a long drag from his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke, deliberately in my direction. "You don't have to babysit me. I'm not a kid," he snapped. "Besides, you don't even want me here. It's not like you didn't make that clear when you threw me out before."

Here we go again.

"I kicked you out because you were trouble, Jared. I don't need any of that again. Just—figure your life out. Get a job, find a place to stay. Something. I can't do it for you."

Jared dropped the cigarette to the deck and crushed it with his boot. "Whatever," he muttered, turning to walk away. He didn't look back as he headed into the woods, leaving me standing on the deck, frustration simmering in my veins. I thought, good riddance.

Inside, the cabin was a disaster. Empty beer cans, discarded wrappers, and various bits of junk littered the space. I sighed, taking a moment to let the anger subside before tackling the mess.

I moved methodically, using the cleaning process to distract myself from the building tension. The kitchen was even worse, with dishes piled high in the sink and crumbs scattered across the counter. I took my time, restoring order to the chaos. I felt a small comfort in being able to control this, at least.

With the downstairs back to a semblance of normalcy, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. Each step echoed in the quiet cabin, and a sense of unease crept up my spine. It wasn't anything specific, just a gut feeling that something wasn't right.

I paused at the door, hand on the handle, before stepping inside.

At first glance, the room seemed normal. The bed was made, clothes were neatly folded on the chair by the window, and the blinds were half-open, letting in the afternoon light. But as I walked toward my desk, I noticed the papers I'd left there were tilted slightly, not in the neat stack I usually kept them in.

What the—

Frowning, I stepped closer, straightening the papers and noticing a small smudge on the surface, as if someone had brushed against them with dirty fingers.

Next, I glanced at my nightstand. The drawer was open a crack. Just enough to suggest someone had been looking inside but hadn't bothered to close it properly. I pulled it open. Everything inside appeared as it should, but the edge of the drawer was smudged with a faint line of dust.

My pulse quickened. It could've been nothing, just me rushing around to pack my bags, but my instincts told me otherwise.He's been in here.That son of a bitch has been going through my things.

I couldn't confront Jared without proof. Instead, I decided to set a trap to confirm my suspicions.

I started with the nightstand. I placed a small slip of paper between the drawer and the frame, positioned so that if someone opened it, the paper would fall to the floor. Subtle enough that Jared might not notice.

Next, I went to the closet and set a shoe just inside the door at a precise angle, toe pointed toward the corner of the room. If someone opened the door, the shoe would shift—clear evidence.

Finally, I returned to the desk. I took a pencil and laid it diagonally across the stack of papers, the eraser angled toward the corner.

Simple. Effective.

With the traps set, I stepped back and took a breath. I hoped I was wrong, that Jared hadn't been snooping. But if I was right, I needed to know before taking action. The thought of him rifling through my things made me uneasy, but it also strengthened my resolve.

I was just finishing my checks when I heard the front door open, then slam shut. The sound echoed through the cabin, followed by the heavy thud of boots on the floorboards.

Jared's back.

My steps were cautious but steady as I descended the stairs, my mind already weighed down by the conversation ahead. I wanted to stay calm, to avoid escalating the tension already thick in the air.

At the bottom step, I saw Jared sprawled out on the couch, head lolled back, eyes half-closed. His posture was unusually relaxed.

Too relaxed.

A prickle of unease crept down my spine.

"Hey," I said, stepping into the room. "Can we talk?"

He gave a sluggish flutter of his eyes and slowly turned his head to face me.

"What about?" he mumbled, his voice dragging like molasses.

I frowned. Something was off. Jared's usual volatility had been replaced by a strange calm, like he was in a daze. I wondered if he was high. The thought crossed my mind, though I couldn't imagine where he'd gotten anything.