Page 10 of To Obsess

With a smile that rivals the early morning sun, I turn to take my present inside, thankful to have such incredible people in my circle. I snag a strawberry from the box before placing it in the fridge for later. The taste has me nearly moaning as the flavors come together in the most mouth-watering combo. I swear that bitch gets me.

For my birthday this year, I took the day off work to hang out at home and get some reading done. My schedule doesn’t typically allow for much free time, so I plan to take full advantage of it while I have the chance.

I almost text back an excuse about wanting to finish my book before the end of the night, but my stomach grumbles as the words fly from my fingertips. Instead, I agree, noting the current time. 5:56 pm. That gives me another forty minutes to read, five minutes to change into something suitable for being outside the house, and fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant on time.

An hour later, I’m pulling up in front of the rundown Mexican place in town. The storefront may not be brand new, but the food is always to die for, and they have five-dollar margarita pitchers if it’s your birthday.

“I’m glad you didn’t say no,” Abby says, leaning in close to my ear to beat the volume inside. I roll my eyes, following her and our waiter to our table.

“I thought you said it wasn’t an option,” I shoot back. I get a wink in response.

For the next two hours, we drink and stuff our faces until we both might explode on the way out. Honestly, it’s the most fun I’ve had in ages. I may not have wanted to come out tonight, but I’m glad I did. It was the perfect end to my birthday.

In no time at all, I’m pulling up to my mailbox, figuring I should check it before settling in for the night. To my complete dismay, it’s empty. Not a single letter to be found. Even Moe, my little fuzzy spider friend, has abandoned my box today.

It shouldn’t bother me, but I can’t help but wonder why there’s no card. Whoever has been leaving them for me hasn’t missed a single birthday since I turned nine.

The thought leaves me feeling painfully empty as I make my way up the drive toward the dark house. Wait. Dark? I know I left the porch light on. I always leave it on when I’m going to be out past dark. How odd.

With a slight creeping unease, I shut off the car. Without its rumbling exhaust to fill the space, the silence encroaches. Maybe it’s all in my head, but this is the kind of silence that feels heavy.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I take a deep, steadying breath and pull the handle on my door. I leave my gift from Abby—a gorgeous hardback edition of Poe poems—on the seat so I can keep my hands mostly free. With only my phone, which I’m using as a flashlight, and my keys, I make my way to the front door and try the knob.

It doesn’t budge. The porch creaks as I take a step back to reevaluate, making me nearly jump out of my skin. My hand flies to my mouth to cover my shriek, though I’m sure it didn’t really help anything. The sound was already out before my hand could stop it.

I try to peer through the windows, chastising myself for closing the curtains tonight. I always close them, but it would have been helpful to have forgotten that tiny task this one time.

“Get it together,” I gripe to myself. “You’re acting like a damned lunatic.” I slip the key from my pocket, slide it into the lock, and turn it slowly, bracing myself for whatever may be waiting on the other side of the door.

As it creaks open, I take one tentative step into the entryway, just far enough to flip on the light. I swear I’d be a murderer’s wet dream. If someone had actually been in the house, there would be no doubt of my exact location now. Thankfully, the entryway and living room are both blessedly bare. No killer in sight, though that does little to calm my racing heart.

Easing my way into the kitchen, I flip on that light to find the room empty as well. I can finally pull a full breath into my lungs and drop my shoulders a bit as the tension bleeds from my body.

A thought hits me as I make my way back to the living room—I didn’t even think to check the front porch light switch to see if it was on. Maybe the bulb blew while I was out and all of this drama was for nothing.

Sure enough, the switch is still in the ‘on’ position, but the porch is still cast in shadows. “You’ve lost your damn mind, Violet. Age isn’t doing you any favors,” I grumble, suddenly grateful nobody else was here to witness my nonsense.

After grabbing a bulb from the pantry, I return to the porch, making sure to flip the switch off as I pass it. Standing in one of the chairs, I reach for the bulb only to have a shiver caress my spine. The bulb hadn’t blown while I was out with Abby.

The bulb is gone.

With a scream caught in my throat, I screw the new one in with shaking hands. It takes every ounce of determination I have to keep from dropping it to the wooden floor. On shaking knees, I climb down from the chair, returning it to its normal place and pull my phone from my pocket.

I punch in 9-1-1, leaving the number pulled up but undialed on the screen, just in case. I pluck a steak knife from the block beside the stove and do my best to swallow my fear as I take the steps up to the second floor. Each creak of the old wooden floors ramps up my fear of being heard before I can make it to the top.

Once I clear the stairs, I flip on the light to illuminate the hallway. Nothing.

I open each of the doors, starting with the guest bedrooms and bathroom.

Nothing.

As I wrap my hand around my own bedroom doorknob, my fingers suddenly feel numb, even as my heart rate picks up in my chest.

Flinging the door open, I pull the knife up, ready to stab whoever or whatever has come into my house. I jump when the door hits the wall and swings back toward me.

The light from the hallway doesn’t completely illuminate the room, but it sheds enough light to see that something is wrong. I step in and turn on the light to find it empty but disturbed.

Whoever was here didn’t make a huge mess, but it’s obvious they went through my things thoroughly before staging their scene. On the bed, they placed sunflower petals, damn near glowing against the black comforter. My favorite candle is placed in the middle of the bed with a card leaning against it.