Page 36 of To Obsess

I don’t have a clue who you are. But I’m curious. I want to know more. It might make me crazy, but I think about you often – just the little things I do know already.

Devoted,

-V

P.S.

Thank you for the turtle. I’m naming him Pudding. In case you wanted to know.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. The note was for me! Violet left me a fucking note. After two decades of near silence, she left me a note.

I drive back to the apartment in a state of euphoria I’ve never achieved before, even with the help of some illicit and very illegal drugs in my younger days.

It probably doesn’t mean anything, I remind myself, trying to keep the hope from swelling in my chest.

It might not, but she wrote me a note and that’s a first. She’s never made any attempt to communicate with me, even after all the flowers and the security system. Even after I broke into her house multiple times.

Violet left me a note.

Chapter 33

Violet

I wake bright and early the next morning, sunlight streaming in through the crack in my curtains. With a groan, I flip over to face the door, doing my best to ignore all of my adult responsibilities for a little while longer.

The podcast is due to be uploaded today, I have work at the bookstore (an extra-long shift today since the owners are leaving for their yearly anniversary trip), and grocery shopping since my fridge is more empty than my hopes and dreams.

I manage to sneak in another five or so minutes of shut eye before I’m forcing them open again, flinging back the covers against my own will. If I had just sucked it up and showered last night after my little trek to the mailbox, I could’ve slept another half hour this morning. Since I wanted to be lazy last night, I now have to suffer the consequences in the early morning hours.

With a grumble, I push up off the bed, stretching my sore muscles and head for the bathroom, undressing as I go. As I step into the hot water, I instantly forget all my complaints from the morning. The water melts the soreness in my upper back as steam fills the room, creating a haze that makes everything look just a little distorted.

I quickly shampoo my hair, leaning my head back to rinse the suds. When I open my eyes, the entire room is enveloped in black. I blink a few times, heartrate rising slightly when I realize my eyes are actually open and it’s still pitch black in here. Fuck me for having a bathroom with no window.

Refusing to panic, I peek out around the curtain even though I know I’ll find nothing but darkness there. Hesitantly, I call out. “Hello?” Nothing. “Is someone there?” Still nothing.

I slow my breathing the best I can, trying to hear any movement from outside the shower. Heart and thoughts racing, I try calling out again with no more luck than the first two times. All those times I thought I would get murdered in the shower and here we are, I think with an amused huff.

“You know, you could be a little brave and at least face me with the damned lights on, you fucking coward,” I grouch, shutting the water off with a sigh. “I didn’t even get a chance to condition my hair, and these split ends could really use the extra help right now.”

I keep talking as if it will somehow spark a bit of bravery in my own soul. Also, I truly am pissed off. Who the hell comes to murder somebody when they’re in the freaking shower? How cliché can you possibly be?

I reach for the towel on the hook beside the shower, drying my body slightly before wrapping it around myself. I can’t stand a wet floor.

With roaming hands, I feel in front of me for the edge of the counter and take the few steps to the door. Hands sliding up the wall, I eventually find the light switch, which is now in the OFF position. Oh. Shit. I flip it on without a thought, bright light illuminating the bathroom and the hall outside. The door had been left open, which hadn’t been from me. I never shower with the door open.

Poking my head out, I scan left to right but find absolutely nothing. Everything looks just like it did when I came into the bathroom for my shower fifteen or so minutes ago. Nothing is out of place.

Taking the stairs as quickly as I dare with damp feet, I check the front door. Locked. I sprint through the house, but find the back door also locked. Every one of the windows is closed tight, latches secured across the tops.

I check the closet where I keep all of my cleaning supplies, my bedroom, the guest room, then the bathroom again. There’s not a single sign that anyone has been here except me. But that’s not possible.

With a racing heart and shallow breaths, I climb the stairs, resigned to whatever fate the universe is throwing my way. When I enter the bathroom, I leave the door open, not risking someone sneaking up on me again. For a moment, I gaze at myself in the mirror. The terror in my eyes is truly mesmerizing. It makes the green splotches so much brighter.

I place my hands on the counter for support, quickly looking down when my hand comes in contact with something unexpected. A piece of paper. Brows furrowed, I pick it up, not recognizing it as something that had been in the house before. In fact, I know it isn’t from my house. It’s another black sticky note, just like the one left with the receipt for the security system.

I swallow past the fear, picking up the note carefully. For half a second, I consider tossing it back to the counter and calling the police. It could have evidence on it. A fingerprint or maybe some DNA that could be used to find out who this stalker is and put a stop to all this chaos.

Instead, I flip it over and read the words written there in the same silver pen as before.