Page 116 of Obsession

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary,” it says with its too-wide smile.

I pause for a moment, decide not to respond, and let the two of them be.

Directly outside the door to the room is Aris. I’m not exactly surprised to see him, but I’m tired and unwilling to deal with his mischief. Seeing my mother again, and learning her fate, has taken something out of me.

His eyes flit to my cheek. “She hit you. Has she done this before?”

I sigh, rubbing at it; the sting is almost gone. “Once or twice,” I admit.

His jaw ticks, and his hands twitch at his sides as if he itches to reach for me. And knows that he can’t.

How bizarre this is for us. Touching and comforting one another was normal just days ago. We would lay together and he would stroke me, and now such a thought is abhorrent to us both. Forbidden.

I’m so tired.

Finally, he says, “Well, what is it?”

“What?”

“One time, or two times? Tell me.”

That she’s hit me.

“Why are you here?” I ask, dodging the question. I’m not interested in strolling down memory lane—not when he has unrestricted access to my thoughts. “Come to kill me?”

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

I turn away, and, though there’s nowhere to go and I’m tired of being in constant motion, I start walking down the hall. I’m sick of this rug and these walls that never change, but I look at them now, pointedly, because I don’t want to acknowledge him.

“So, what?” I say, growing more irritated when he falls into step beside me. “You’re going to keep me in your prison until the sun explodes?”

“No. I’m here to spring you loose.”

I send him a wary, skeptical look. “You’re letting me go? Why?”

“Would you like to stay here instead?”

“I don’t understand.” I pause, trying to think it through, but I can’t reach any reasonable conclusion on my own. “You put me here because—well, aren’t you… angry?”

“I’ve had time to think.”

“And?”

“Well, how could I blame a lion for hunting gazelles?”

Something about the way he says that rubs me the wrong way. Like he’s having fun. Like he’s about to pull the rug out from under me. But what could he possibly do that’s worse than what he’s already done, beyond putting me in my own room?

I stop walking abruptly, and he follows. “What do you mean by that?” I ask carefully. I feel delicate; I can’t take much more right now.

He tilts his head, a smile crossing his lips; it is half wry and half… fond. It’s strange. Last I saw him, he was raving mad. I thought he might actually kill me, and now he’s jesting. Maybe he’s lost it.

"It was a chaotic, beautiful trick,” says Aris. “You saw my desire for you and used it to deceive me. Naturally, my ego was hurt. But I see now: you are just as you were intended to be. It isn’t your fault."

My eyes narrow. "’Just as I was intended to be?’ What are you talking about?"

"You haven’t figured it out.” He smiles. “Shall I tell you?”

Again, I sigh, longer this time and more exasperated. I feel less nervous now and more annoyed. “Tell me what?”

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