“No, it fucking is, and you know it. If you wanted someone to tell you to run for the hills and not go after that psycho’s virginity like you’re about to tear it out with your teeth, you wouldn’t have come to me. You know I’m the friend who’d sooner hand you a condom and a bat than tell you not to go suck the crazy out of that obsessive fucker.”
“He’s dangerous.”
Lianna waves me off like Phoenix casually murdering my parents would be a mild inconvenience.
God, I wish I cared more about that.
“He’s clearly not a danger to you.”
“He’s been watching me for years.”
“Yeah. Still hot.”
“Lianna, come on…”
“Fine, fine—fuck me,” she mutters, grabbing the white band from her wrist and pulling her long black hair into a high ponytail. “Okay, yes, he’s done bad things. Yes, you should probably call the cops and give them the full psycho rundown. Yes, he’s clearly fucked in the head to have spent ten years obsessing over you like some feral little basement goblin. I acknowledge all of that.” She pins me with a look. “His kind of devotion is some burn-the-whole-world-down, rip-out-your-throat-for-smiling-at-someone-else level crazy. And yeah, living it is a hell of a lot different than just talking about it.”
I open my mouth, but she steamrolls on. “And look, I know he had something to do with your parents’ deaths, so don’t give me that face. I’m not ignoring that. But after everything you’ve told me about your childhood, I’d have helped him dig the graves. I also wish I’d been the one to snap that Ava bitch’s spine like a glow stick. Honestly, I’d sleep like a fucking baby because I love you, and I’d do anything for you, just like that deranged lunatic you’ve got panting after you.”
“Didn’t save me your virginity, though, did you? Now that’s real loyalty.”
“Okay, so my devotion is slightly broken because I go full dick-brained the second a hot guy breathes near me.” Her lips twitch, and I already know what’s coming. “I take it Phoenix is…”
“So fucking hot I could cry.”
“Oh, you’re so screwed.”
“No,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I’m going to be smart.”
“How the hell are you not foaming at the mouth to ride him into the afterlife? He’s a whole-ass virgin for you.”
I drag my hands down my face. “You’re seriously the worst. I’m trying to be sane here, and you’re over there mentally planning my bachelorette party.”
“Would he let you have one?”
I drop my hands and spread my fingers into V’s over my eyes, just to glare through them. “Probably not.”
“Okay, real talk. If you want him gone, act like he’s gone. Don’t talk to him, don’t look at him, and don’t think about him. Starve the obsession. Don’t feed the fucking fire. That’s the only way to kill it. And yeah, if I see him, I’m swinging. But we both know whatever you feel for him is messier than you’re willing to admit.”
“This goes way beyond messy. And I’m sure he stole my sketchbook. I don’t know how or when, but I know that asshole has it.”
“You never found it?”
“No. I called the airline. I called every place I stopped and every person I so much as made eye contact with. Nothing. And considering he’s somehow gotten into my apartment and my fucking head without breaking a sweat, I’d put money on him having it.”
“That pisses me off because you haven’t even let me look inside that damn thing.”
“He’s the last person I want in there. Ugh, I can’t do this. I need to move.”
“No, you don’t. But hey, you only live once. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like he’s gonna throw anything worse atyou than what he already has. And look, you’re here with me, not at the police station, so what does that tell you?”
I’ve been thinking about Lianna’s question since she asked it, and I did everything I could to not answer her because there isn’t a response that makes me sound sane.
What do you do when you know you should turn him in, when you know damn well he deserves it, but you can't stomach the idea of being the one to lock him away?
How do you hold both truths that he’s a criminal and that you want to protect him anyway?
How can I be furious with him for breaking into my apartment, for following me, for inserting himself into every corner of my existence, and not be screaming? Not be tearing down doors and demanding someone stop him?
