Page 6 of To Obsess

When I did realize it, I tried to stop. Normally I’m a man chock-full of willpower and can do anything I set my mind to, but with Violet, it’s a different story.

I stopped for two weeks. Fourteen days. When I say it was excruciating, I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. I would have night terrors about what could be happening to her because I stopped watching, so I stopped sleeping after about four days. I began getting panic attacks at random times throughout the night. I took up reading to pass the time, but lo-and-behold, I found Violet in each of the pages. Instead, I tried painting. No matter what subject I chose, it somehow looped back to her eventually.

After fourteen miserable nights, I gave in and watched her again. That night, I saw how sad she looked through the living room window. She sat on the couch, tub of ice cream in her lap, as she stared at her phone.

Later on, I found out her college boyfriend had broken up with her. I didn’t think it was that serious, seeing as they had only been together about eight months, but she was obviously devastated.

That night, I vowed to keep watch over her. I vowed to never interfere in her life, but I wanted to make sure she was safe and happy. There are a lot of creeps out there who would take advantage of such a kind-hearted woman, and I’m hellbent on keeping that from happening to Violet.

Tonight, I broke my vow by meddling. I’d sent that text before I had a chance to think it through, but I was being genuine. I truly hope she enjoyed her date tonight. It seemed like they had a great time together between the dinner and the laughs they shared.

I’m glad she finally worked up the courage to say yes to a date with a man again. After the college boyfriend experience, she’d shut down completely. For weeks, she didn’t really talk to anyone, even Abby. She sat on the couch in her apartment, reading books, painting, or staring at the wall for hours. Sometimes she would open the windows and play some music, but she didn’t dance anymore, at least for a long time.

It took years for her to start dancing again. The night I saw her take those first tentative steps around the living room of her new house, my heart nearly beat out of my chest. I was euphoric when she spun herself around, her shy smile shining in the darkness of that night. Even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, I could never forget that smile.

“Killian, I need those contracts on my desk by noon,” my boss says as he passes my desk. “The Davenports will be here at 12:30, and I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Of course,” I say automatically, scribbling a note on the legal pad to my right. I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out entirely over the last hour. When I last looked at the clock, it read 9:09 am in blocky red numbers. Currently, it reads 10:37 am.

Thankfully, the rest of the workday speeds by without incident. Thoughts of Violet remain at a minimum, though she does sneak in now and then. Against my better judgement, I pull up the message thread from Saturday.

Despite myself, a slight chuckle slips past my lips. That’s my girl. She’s always sassy and in your face, and it’s honestly one of my favorite qualities of hers. She’d give any man a run for his money.

A part of me hates that she did enjoy that date. It makes this next part that much more difficult for me.

Chapter 7

Violet

While I wait for her to text back, I pull up our local news online, expecting some crazy story about a meth head riding his lawnmower down to the gas station for a six-pack or a bar fight that got out of control. Instead, my jaw hits the floor as I scan the headline.

Local Man Found Dead in Cemetery

Murderer Still at Large

Holy. Fuck. Quickly scanning the article, I see very few details, only that the man was found early Sunday morning by a groundskeeper. He was brutally tortured, though no details were given as to exactly what was done to him. Police are warning people to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, citing the murderer still being on the loose and possibly dangerous to the town.

I navigate the webpage to finish up the story, curiosity piqued. This kind of stuff never happens here. I know everyone says that, but it truly never happens here. There’s been one murder in my entire twenty-eight years on this planet, and that was a family dispute.

Reading through the rest of the short article, my heart drops to my feet and nausea coils in my stomach.

At the end of the article, almost as if it was an afterthought, Landon’s name is released as the victim.

Landon and I only went out on one date, but his death hit me harder than I could have ever expected. It’s been nearly seven months now, and I still think about him regularly.

His murderer was never caught, and the police released no information about even having a person of interest. Whoever did this got away with it, for now at least. The thought has me looking over my shoulder every time I leave the house.

For the first week, it was hard to even go to work. I have no clue who would have wanted Landon dead but having ties to a man who was murdered freaks me out.

After that first week, I was able to go to work again, but that was the extent of my outings. I had all my groceries delivered, never went out for drinks or dinner, and refused to leave my house if at all possible. I kept entirely to myself, remaining silent unless it was absolutely necessary to speak.

For the several months following, it was more of the same. Grocery deliveries, work, burying myself in books, blocking out the world.

Things have gotten a little easier in the last six weeks or so, even if I am self-medicating with a glass or two of wine every evening. I wasn’t ever big on drinking, only going out with friends now and then to celebrate big life events, but it’s quickly become a coping mechanism for the demons in my head.

I ignore her text, placing the phone back on the coffee table face down. I don’t want any company tonight. I don’t want to have to keep a mask in place, make small talk, or laugh at the right times. I want to curl up with a book in my old bay window and slip away from reality, forgetting everyone and everything that has ever existed.

Two hours later, when I take a break to use the bathroom, the guilt washes over me, so I pick up the phone and type a quick apology. Abby is just trying to help.