Page 11 of To Obsess

Taking another quick glance around the room to ensure I really am alone, I cross the room and pick up the card, running my fingers across the familiar design. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FLOWER, it reads in his perfect handwriting. Opening it, I find a different message than all of the previous cards. I DIDN’T FORGET YOUR BIRTHDAY. I’M SORRY I WAS LATE THIS TIME. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

I laugh at the absurdity of the situation, frozen halfway between relief and terror. This man was inside my house, but he’s been writing to me for years. For whatever reason, I can’t convince myself he means me any real harm, even if this is an escalation.

I delete the numbers still displayed on the phone screen, opting to pull up Abby’s contact info instead. My thumb hovers over the phone icon, hesitant. With a huff, I lock it and toss the phone onto the bed. I need time to figure this out first. Abby being here, freaking out and threatening to skin him alive with a razor blade or something isn’t going to help me do that. No, I need to think this through on my own.

Chapter 12

KILLIAN

I’ve been pacing around my apartment for two hours now, beating myself up for breaking into her house. It was never supposed to go this far. I was never supposed to lose control of myself.

I overslept this morning, leaving me with no choice but to come up with a different plan. I couldn’t fathom how she’d felt when she woke up and there wasn’t a card in her mailbox. It simply would not do for her to wait until tomorrow to find her birthday card. Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.

I tried to convince myself it wasn’t really that big of a deal. I could always stop by and put it in her box after work. She would still get it when she made it home for the night. As luck would have it, my boss is completely incompetent, and I got stuck at work for three hours longer than I should have, but it should have still worked to swing by and drop it in on my way home.

As I turned onto her street, I watched as she slowly pulled out, heading toward town. An idea exploded into my head, so I jumped on it.

A quick U-turn had me following two cars behind her back into town where I could grab a couple things to make her birthday a touch more special. I found her favorite candle and two different colored sunflowers. I probably could have found more if I had a bit more time, but I was in a hurry.

When I made it back to her house, the gates were still open, but I parked on the side of the road with my flashers on, feigning a breakdown in case anyone happened to come by. Bag slung over my shoulder, I trekked up her drive.

I’m not sure why she’s started leaving the gates open all the time lately, and though I’m grateful for it today, it simply can’t continue. One of the reasons I love her living here is because the house isn’t easily accessible unless you’re willing to sneak around in the woods and take the long way around. By leaving the gates open, she’s inviting trouble, and I won’t stand for that.

When I made it to the front door, I found it locked. Smart girl. Don’t want to be inviting strangers into your house while you’re away, after all. Unlucky for her, it had only taken a couple minutes to pop the door open and slip silently inside.

I’d avoided the main living areas entirely, not wanting to risk getting caught if she came home early. Instead, I took the stairs two at a time until I came to the second-floor landing. I found her bedroom easily, slipping inside and closing the door behind me.

It took twenty minutes to lay everything out the way I wanted, even if it did end up being a little underwhelming in the end. I’d hoped for a big show, but it ended up looking like some cheesy high school boy trying his hand at being romantic in hopes of losing his v-card.

With a sigh at my lackluster display, I decided to take a minute to rifle through her drawers. I want to get to know her on a deeper level, and nothing shows you who people are like the things they keep in their bedroom.

At first, I found the normal things. Clothes in the dresser drawers, although that was a fascinating sight if I’m being totally honest. Seeing her style reflected in her underwear and bra choices was tantalizing to say the least. Other than that, there wasn’t a lot to be found. Some jewelry here and there, hair accessories, and some make up that looked like it hadn’t been used in forever and a day.

As the seconds ticked by, I could feel my heartbeat picking up. I was running out of time, but I wanted to keep looking around. Pulling open her nightstand drawer, I found a gem. Her journal.

I’d flipped to her last entry.

It’s my birthday again. New year, same shit. Saw Abby. She’s amazing as always. Talked to my family, which was wonderful.

I can’t help but be disappointed though. I didn’t get a card this year. First time since I was in elementary school. He made it nineteen years without missing a single one.

The entry tugged on my heart. I hate that I disappointed her, that she thought I had forgotten or just didn’t care enough to make it happen like I have every other year.

Shoving down the uncomfortable feeling building up in my chest, I’d put the journal back in the drawer and left the bedroom mostly as I found it. As I left, I noted which stairs squeaked and which ones are safe to step on. I tucked the information away, just in case it’s needed later on.

I’d slipped out the front door and gave the knob a quick twist to ensure it was locked, just as she had left it. But I noticed something odd. There was a slight flicker coming from the bulb on the porch.

It stayed lit for a few seconds before flickering and nearly going out completely, just to come back and shine with full intensity. I dragged a chair over, stepped up onto it, and twisted the bulb, ignoring the pain as it singed my fingers. Then I waited.

Sure enough, the bulb flickered again, despite being completely tight. Without another thought, I unscrewed the bulb, passing it from hand to hand to keep from getting burned too badly. Pulling down the sleeve of my jacket, I wrapped the metal end of the bulb in the fabric to protect my skin before sliding the chair back to its place.

With the house being built decades ago, the wiring could be faulty. I didn’t want to take any chances on the bulb causing a fire, even if she wasn’t home.

I made a mental note to call an electrician in the morning to come check it out. It may have been nothing, but I’d feel better knowing the house had been cleared by an expert.

With the bulb in one hand, I’d quickly made my way back down the driveway to where my car waited, hazard lights still flashing. Thankfully, no one was around to ask any questions, so I’d been able to slip into the driver’s seat and drive back to the apartment.

Which brings me back to my current situation, pacing around the apartment, losing my mind one step at a time.