Page 41 of Abundance of Obsession

I killed a man!

And part of me doesn’t regret it at all.

Chapter 11

Eli

Before it gets to the hour when normal people visit others, I’m already at my breaking point. And I’ll be damned if I say out loud what has gone wrong.

I’m on edge. No, that’s not true. I’m absolutely livid. And there’s something else. It’s under my skin, and it won’t let up. Something inside me is restless, pressing against my chest. There’s a moment when I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack, but I don’t let panic take control of me.

I tossed and turned in bed most of the night, unable to find rest. Intrusive thoughts refused to leave my head, just like that nasty feeling in my chest.

And it’s all because of her. Zozo. It’s her fault. She must have cast some kind of spell on me or something. Voodoo dolls exist, I’m sure of it. Maybe she made one in my likeness?

Now I don’t even know what to think. One thing is certain. Ever since she didn’t answer my calls and then texted she was on a date, this burning sensation hasn’t gone away. It’s weighing on me, haunting me all night long.

That’s why, at four in the morning, I give in and get up. Pretty soon, I’ll have a well-worn path in my living room, proof of my obsession.

At five a.m., I give in to my weakness. With my laptop on my lap, I check Zoe’s location. It’s difficult because my leg is bouncing up and down, and that’s one symptom of my condition. Anyway, she’s at her place. Though that means nothing yet, because she could have invited him over.

I slam the laptop shut and start pacing the living room again.

Did she think my words were empty? Was she okay with him touching her? Did she let him have his way with her?

At the very thought, I ball my hands into fists. I don’t understand what the hell is happening to me. Two days ago, I knew I should stay away from her. For the sake of all our peace of mind. Meanwhile, I’m turning into a sick asshole who wants to dip his hands in the blood of the wretch stupid enough to touch her.

The clock strikes six, and my anger reaches boiling point. Jumping into the shower, I let the icy water sober me up. Does it work? Fuck, no. Still, it was a gamble worth taking.

And so, at seven a.m., I park my car in front of Zoe’s house. I rush up the stairs two steps at a time. When my fist hits the wood of her door, I can finally take a deep breath.

Except she doesn’t open it for what feels like an eternity. Knocking three times, I’m about to pound on the door when the lock turns.

Zoe cracks the door open, and her sleep-filled eyes widen. Her hair is all messed up, yet it looks perfect. Just perfect. How that’s even possible is beyond me. But it’s true.

I let my gaze drift downward. She’s wearing nothing but a black tank top and tiny pink shorts. Creamy, silky-looking legs lead to bare feet.

My mouth waters, and I run my tongue over my lips. In fact, I want to touch her skin with it, along the length, up…

“What the fuck? Eli?” Her sleepy voice is hoarse. She blinks like she can’t believe I’m standing here.

“No. Santa Claus,” I growl and push my way inside.

My eyes dart around the living room and kitchen. I don’t see any scattered clothes, dirty wine glasses, or shoes. There’s no trace of another man in this house.

A sigh almost escapes me.

I’m tempted to head straight to her bedroom and confirm my theory, but she would probably break my nose and kick my ass for it. That seems like a small price to pay.

“Come on in and make yourself at home,” I hear from behind, followed by the sound of a door slamming. “What are you doing here?”

I turn on my heel. “I told you we needed to talk.”

“But at this unholy hour? Couldn’t it wait until noon?” I give her a hard look, to which she shakes her head and adds, “I’ll throw something on.”

She leaves me alone. Accepting her offer, I make myself at home. I turn on the coffeemaker to brew us some fresh drink. God only knows we both need it.

By the time Zoe reappears, the coffee is ready. Dressed in black leggings and a gray UCLA sweatshirt, she looks just as sexy. I notice the sweatshirt is two sizes too big for her, as if someone left it over.