Page 74 of Veil of Obsession

Read at 7:12 AM. No reply.

Last night?

Me:

Are you seriously ignoring me?

Read at 11:49 PM. Nothing.

Three days of this. Three days of silence. Three days of knowing he’s alive somewhere, choosing not to speak to me.

And that pisses me off more than the idea of him being missing. My fingers curl into fists as I turn back toward the desk, scanning the clutter again. If he won’t tell me where he is, I’ll figure it out myself.

Yanking open a drawer, I rummage through the mess of papers, old receipts, and scattered pens. There’s a crumpled envelope shoved toward the back, addressed to him in handwriting I don’t recognize.

My pulse kicks up as I smooth the paper out, but my heart sinks when I see it’s just an old bill.

Nothing useful.

I slam the drawer shut and move toward his jacket, draped over the arm of the couch. His scent lingers: cigarettes and the faintest hint of cologne. My hands slip into the pockets, searching. A lighter, some crumpled cash, a folded piece of paper. I pull it out and ease it open, pressing away the stubborn crumbles with my fingers.

A receipt. Two nights ago. A bar across town. I stare at the date, my stomach tightening. Two nights ago…

So he was here, at least briefly. This must be a blind spot for the camera. But why wouldn’t he come back? Why wouldn’t he answer me?

I bite my lip, my phone burning a hole in my pocket. He’s reading my messages, but not responding. Which means I can still get his attention.

I type furiously.

Me:

Fine. Keep ignoring me. But if you think I’m going to stop looking for you, you’re dead fucking wrong.

I hit send. Seconds pass. The three little dots appear— like he’s going to respond. My breath catches.

Then they disappear.

My blood runs hot. He’s playing games. He wants me to give up, to stop chasing him. Too bad for him, I never stop.

I grab the receipt, shoving it into my pocket. If Lucio won’t come to me, I’ll find him myself. And when I do, he betterhave a damn good reason for running after demanding we give whatever this fucked-up situation between us is a go.

Whatever the fuck that means.

Slipping out of the apartment, I close the door quietly behind me. The hallway is dim, the low lights casting uneasy shadows. I keep my head down as I move, listening for any signs of the staff building. The last thing I need is someone asking questions. Reaching the stairwell, I take the steps two at a time, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

29

Princess

He’s toying with me.

From the moment he laid eyes on me and knew of my existence, he’s toyed with me. And I let it happen because I crave his attention as much as he craves my obsession. This is a two-way street for the both of us.

Lucio snuck into my room three nights ago, and since then, it has been radio silent. The asshole got what he wanted, and now he’s no longer interested, because he hasn’t responded to a single text.

Me:

Hey.