Page 33 of To Obsess

“I could come stay with you instead if you don’t want to do the smart thing and stay here.”

I roll my eyes with a small smile. “I’m fine, Abby. Seriously. I can handle myself. I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm.” I swallow past the lump in my throat as I remember I haven’t even told her about the weird text message or the guy in the bookstore today. I also still haven’t been entirely honest with her about the escalation in the cards and unhinged behavior.

“If you say so. Call me if anything else happens. I’ll leave my ringer on tonight. And text me when you get up in the morning,” she demands.

“Yes, mother,” I chuckle. I hang up the phone before she can add any other ridiculous requests to the list.

I double check the locks on the front and back door, flip both porch lights on, and make my way up the stairs. Once I’m snuggled into the covers, I check that all of the cameras are on and functioning, hitting the live play button on each of them, just to be sure. All working.

With that, I plug in my phone, close my eyes, and drift to sleep with thoughts of a man dressed in all black lurking in the shadows, just beyond my line of sight.

Chapter 30

KILLIAN

Nearly a week goes by with no visits to Violet’s house or the bookstore. Unfortunately, work has kept me too busy to focus on much of anything else.

With my attention so divided recently, my work has been lacking which got me a nice ‘if you don’t shape up, we’re going to have to take action’ talk from my boss first thing Tuesday morning. My bills refuse to pay themselves, so for now, my focus has shifted ever so slightly.

Back when I was younger, Saturday nights were made for friends and drinks. Everything changed once they all went off to college, I started keeping an eye on Violet, and my life kind of went off the rails. I started staying in, drinking more on weeknights, and stalking Violet when I was sober enough to manage it.

All of my so-called friends disappeared, check-ins became fewer and farther between, weekly meetups became nearly nonexistent. That’s always suited me just fine. I typically prefer solitude anyway. But true as that may be, there’s a tiny part of me that craves a friend to talk things through with—a sounding board.

Especially on nights like tonight, when my thoughts are spinning out of control and I can’t seem to get a grip.

On the last podcast episode, Violet voiced a challenge. Show myself. Let her know who I am so she can make a decision with all of the pieces laid out before her. I can’t even fault her for that. She deserves that much. But how in fuck’s sake am I supposed to do that? I can’t just run across her on the street and reveal everything.

‘Hi, Violet. I’m your deranged stalker who probably has legit psychopathic tendencies. I watch your house at night, track your movements, have shown up at your job multiple times. Oh yeah, and I killed the guy you went out on a date with and left him in the woods for other people to eventually find. Oh, and I killed the other guy you went on a date with before that because I didn’t want you to choose to be with someone other than me. But I’m a real great guy so you should give me a chance.’ Yeah. I’m sure that would be fucking fantastic.

The hot water scalds my skin in rivulets as the steam billows around me. I drank too much too fast in a piss poor attempt to drown my sorrows before my thoughts could pull me under. Mistakenly, I thought a hot shower might help me sober up enough to slow the demons in my head. Instead, all it did was make the situation worse.

A true glutton for punishment, I’ve been standing in the fire raining down on me for the better part of a half hour (thank you, tankless hot water heater), berating myself for being in this stupid ass situation in the first place.

If I’d just let her walk away when she moved to go to college, none of this would be happening right now. If I’d stopped when she came back. If I’d let her move on with her life and find somebody to be happy with. If I had just kept it to the damned birthday cards.

That was never in the cards for me, though. I’ve known it since we were nine years old. Loving Violet was never a choice for me. From the first time I saw her smile, I was a goner. I knew then she was the most beautiful creature to ever grace this planet, and I knew she would be mine. I wouldn’t stop until she was.

With a soul-deep sigh, I shut off the shower, watching as the water swirls down the drain and out of sight.

Once I’ve dressed in shorts and an old raggedy T-shirt, I find myself staring at the wall of my bedroom, a folded paper laying in front of me.

I’ve written her what feels like a million cards by now. Each one has been slightly different, depending on my mood and what life was throwing at each of us at the time. But this one feels entirely different. Almost like a turning point.

I could stop here. Go back to just writing the cards for her birthdays. That part isn’t ever going to stop, but these other cards don’t have to continue.

Of course, she would always wonder about who had written them, but maybe it was better to leave it as a mystery. A charming gesture that happened for a little while but faded out over time. It would be easier to let her keep romanticizing the entire thing.

The truth is, there’s not anything romantic about what I’m doing here. There’s nothing sweet about the cards I’m writing, the flowers being left, or the eye I’ve been keeping on her damn near constantly for years. No, in reality, this shit is fucked up. Scary, even.

It would take next to nothing to push this over the edge, into territory we won’t ever be able to recover from. It would be easy to take this too far.

I was wrong before, when I said it would be easier to let her keep thinking of it all this way. Easier to stop writing the extra cards. That would be truly impossible.

Humans are naturally drawn to the path of least resistance. That path for me? Violet. All of her.

Chapter 31

Violet