Page 82 of Obsession

As I close the distance between us, a queasy feeling creeps up on me. It’s stronger the closer I get to the woods, and I realize that, whatever this place is, it’s not normal. Only an inch or two of sunlight penetrates the entrance of the forest, the rest of the light swallowed by heavy tree cover and green foliage. What lurks in the blackness is unknown, but the shadowed trees with long, spindly branches remind me of gnarled hands. I picture one of them getting hold of me and forcing me against a trunk, where I would be absorbed into its bark and trapped forever.

I don’t want Aris going in there; I don’t want to go in there.

Luckily, he stops by the edge of the forest, and I grab his shoulder and shake him in three forceful bursts, panicked.

He turns, eyes going to my grip. “So now it isn’t wrong to touch me?”

“Are you serious? What the hell do you think you’re doing? We have to stay in the house!”

Aris’ mouth sets into a nasty scowl, eyes narrowing the same way they did when he discovered I betrayed him. “Why?” he demands. “What’s the point of all of these rules?”

“Because.” I struggle for more words—better words, and decide on hissing, “We agreed!”

“And why did you want them in the first place?” He takes a step back, my hand falling uselessly to my side. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before plowing on, “You’re scared that I’ll hurt you because I don’t remember how to control myself, but I can’t use my powers to learn control. You’re not safe, but you won’t tell me why. You tell me I’m sick—how? What happened to make me lose my memories? Who was I before?”

With each word, his tone gets harder, angrier, and I’m not afraid of him but not not afraid either. I don’t know what to do, and that’s stressing me out well enough; I don’t need him yelling in addition.

“How does running into the woods fix any of that?” I say, glancing at the dark forest. I keep my voice light, incredulous, trying to stall; the right words to tame the situation aren’t coming.

“It doesn’t!” he snaps and walks toward me again. This close, he towers over me, his lean body poised to strike.

I imagine him shoving me down, my head smacking against the hard ground, neck snapping from the force. Yesterday, the thought never would’ve formed, but with the way he’s looking at me… I thought that I knew him the way he is now, but I’m suddenly not so sure.

I take a step back, and Aris deflates, his face twisting with hurt. Then, he turns away to face the forest again, shoulders drooping.

“It fixes nothing, but it’s something,” he says, more to himself than to me.

I stare at his tense back for a few moments, fear cycling through me. I thought he was going to attack me just then. He’s so much bigger and stronger—even if he was human he could overpower me.

And then, there is anger. I shouldn’t have to feel afraid—how dare he make me feel this way. I won, and he lost. I make the rules now, and how dare he run out! How dare he misbehave!

And then… guilt.

He can’t keep going like this; he won’t. I didn’t know before, but simply touching me, holding me, placates him. All I said was that he couldn’t lay with me, and it infuriated him into rebellion.

He’s right: I am everything to him, simply because he cannot remember anything else. He wants me, and I am denying him without explanation. What else is to be expected but this behavior?

It can’t continue.

What if he goes into the forest next time, or even further? What was it Jaegen warned about introducing new variables?

What if Aris breaks a different, and more serious, rule?

Coming to a decision, my shoulders fall as low as Aris’, weariness rushing through me. “Come inside, and I’ll tell you everything,” I say quietly.

Aris glances back at me but doesn’t move until I hold out my hand. He turns fully then, studying my palm like one might a snake. Is it poisonous? How sharp are its teeth?

“I thought you were scared of me,” challenges Aris, but there’s less heat in his voice now.

“No, I said that I was scared.”

His shifts at this distinction—one I’ve made to him before, though he can’t remember it—then reaches out to grasp my hand. His touch is cool, and his thumb immediately rubs my knuckles in a soothing gesture before he pauses, remembering that he’s upset with me.

With a sigh, I lead us back to the house, quietly bracing myself. The time for lies is over; Aris will not accept any more. But where do I start? Is there a way to tell our story truthfully, but to spin it so it’ll benefit me?

Something inside me twists, my conscience plucked like a tweezed brow. Aris is following me, holding onto my hand, waiting for me to give answers. I am the manipulator now; I am in control. I’ve gotten exactly what I thought I wanted.

But maybe there was never a prize to this game.

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