Page 35 of To Obsess

Abby is my best friend in this entire world, but sometimes it’s hard to keep up the super happy façade her presence demands most days. I don’t have the gall to deep dive into this thing with the stalker, so pretending to be just fine has been easier as of late. But if I’m being honest with myself, something is shifting between us. The stalker and me, I mean.

As terrifying as the situation is, I’m finding myself more and more drawn to him recently. Not in a romantic kind of way, really. This feeling is one of curiosity and interest. I want to know who he is and what makes him tick. What has made him continue to write these cards for two decades now without so much as way to respond? What did I ever do to earn that type of unwavering dedication?

Even through my college years when I moved away, he always found a way to get a card to me. Now that I think about it, maybe he’s been around more than I ever gave him credit for.

The more I think about it all, the more times I recall odd things popping up out of nowhere. Random flowers left on my windshield after work. A gift card to my favorite restaurant tucked into my windshield wiper once after a particularly grueling final. Even a plush dragon tied to my door handle after a bad breakup. That one was still packed away in a box inside my closet. I hadn’t been able to part with it, even if I didn’t have a clue who it had come from.

I’d chalked all the weird things up to Abby’s doing, or maybe even a secret admirer who had never gotten the guts to fess up to their feelings. They happened so sporadically that I never considered it could have all been from the same person.

With a stroke of brilliance (or stupidity), I scrawl out a message on the back of a receipt and slip on my shoes. A quick jog down the driveway has me staring at the mailbox on the other side of the gates.

Before I have a chance to change my mind, I pull the lid free, cringing as it smacks against the brick of the pillar. I shove the paper inside, close the lid, and sigh in resignation before starting the trek back up the driveway.

Instead of jogging back to the house, I take my time, taking in the woods on either side of the drive. Chills spread up my arms as I realize he could be watching me right now, hidden in the darkness of the trees. There’s something terrifying and a little thrilling about the thought of being watched.

I roll my eyes at my own idiocy, wondering about my sanity as my right foot hits the bottom step. Who in the world gets excited over the possibility of some creepy fuck watching them from the woods?

Maybe I need to make an appointment with my therapist after all.

Chapter 32

KILLIAN

The longer I sit here and stare at the empty walls of this apartment, the more I feel shards of my sanity slipping away.

I was just at Violet’s house dropping off the turtle two nights ago, but I’m already feeling drawn back. I know I should put a little distance between myself and her place if I don’t want to get caught. That’s the only logical thing to do, but logic went out the window about four hours ago when I unlocked my front door and walked into this deafening silence.

Everything here is too quiet. The sounds of other tenants going about their lives, cars outside the windows, and the occasional dog barking down the street are the only sounds here. It’s not like the woods outside Vi’s house.

Out there, I feel calm. Happy almost. It’s the only place I’ve ever found any real sense of comfort except for the bookstore, when I can listen in on her conversations with other customers. Something about being close to her brings me comfort like nothing else I’ve ever found.

The croak of the frogs, the crunch of twigs breaking beneath the feet of the woodland creatures, and the call of the birds have become so dear to me that I miss them like a lost lover at times. Of course, being able to see the light in her windows certainly helps me feel at peace as well, but we’re not talking about that right now.

I half sigh, half groan as I scrub my hands through my hair for the fifth time in the last twenty or so minutes, letting the twinge of pain release a bit of the built-up tension in my chest.

Standing from the recliner, I find a piece of scrap paper lying on the edge of the counter and scrawl a quick note before tossing the pen down and pulling my shoes back on. This is nothing like the practiced and methodical cards I’ve given to her before. This one is purely for me, to ease my frustration enough that I’ll maybe be able to sleep a couple hours tonight and not go insane.

It’s seventeen minutes before I pull onto her street, killing the engine in my normal pull off spot. I disable the cameras temporarily as I make my way to the mailbox. As much as I would love to spend some time in the woods behind her house, I don’t have the time tonight. I have a massive report due tomorrow, and I need to get back to the apartment as quick as I can. This will have to do for today.

I pull the scrap of paper from the front pocket of my jeans and unfold it carefully.

JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW I’M THiNKING OF YOU TONIGHT.

-K

Content, I refold the paper and step out of the car, closing the door quietly behind me. I casually stroll to her mailbox, hoping I look entirely calm and collected in case there happens to be any passersby. Luckily, the road seems rather quiet tonight with only the noise of cars travelling along the main road nearby to keep me company.

The cool metal of the lid calms my nerves slightly as I tug and let it fall against the brick pillar. To my surprise, there’s a sliver of something white tucked inside. Violet gets her mail every evening, whether she’s been at work or just hanging out at home, so seeing something here this late is odd to say the least. With slightly shaky fingers, I reach inside and pluck the paper from the darkness.

I unfold it quickly. It’s a receipt of some sort, but there’s not enough light out here to make out whatever is written on it. Refolding it, I place it in my pocket to read when I’m safely tucked back inside my car. Not knowing what it says makes me question leaving my note, but I shove it inside the box anyway, slam the lid, and jog quickly back down the road.

My car isn’t far, but by the time I’m opening the driver’s side door, I’m nearly breathless from the adrenaline burning through my veins. There’s a note. In my pocket. From Violet’s mailbox.

Fuck, what if it wasn’t meant for you? Idiot. She’s never left a note for you before! I chastise myself. I never even considered it wasn’t left for me before snatching it up. What if I just kidnapped a note meant for somebody else? Shit, shit, shit, I repeat, flicking the dome light on with one hand as I try to fish the note out of my pocket with the other. I really should have worn sweatpants or something. Anything with looser pockets.

Once it’s free, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before I’m hurling from the adrenaline. The note was scrawled in messy handwriting on a receipt for fast food. My heart skips a beat as I take in the words.

K,