Page 8 of Imprisoned Obsession

I step around the corner and watch her struggle with the lock on the front door. She rattles the lock, but it won’t budge no matter which way she turns it.

“Darling,” I call.

Her shoulders jerk in surprise as her startled squeak rips through the air. She tries desperately to twist the lock but loses the battle.

Willa spins around and presses her back against the door. It’s a defensive posture and the same fear clusters at the corners of her eyes.

“Let me out,” she demands weakly.

She doesn’t have shoes on, and my attention drops to her lovely thighs as the hem of my button-down shirt brushes against them.

I move closer, and she inches away. The cynicism in her eyes intensifies. She reminds me of a trapped animal, and I’m the predator toying with her.

The door unlocks, and I open it for her. Harsh wind crashes through the frame, frightening Willa. She looks doubtful when I smile at her.

“You are free to leave, darling,” I offer as I hold the door open.

Willa is smart not to bolt for the door. She’s gauging my actions with every ounce of protective distrust in her little body.

“However,” I note, “Where will you go?”

She huffs angrily, pressing her back against the wall to avoid being vulnerable. Her eyes peer through the stained-glass window by the doorframe, and she gasps softly.

My home isn’t in the heart of the city; it’s near the outskirts to avoid crowds. I like my privacy and don’t want my neighbors to see in the windows.

“Wait!”

Willa jerks around with horror in her eyes, heaving in panic as she protectively wraps her arms around herself.

“You burned down my home,” she accuses hesitantly. “You… Janice.”

I don’t confirm or deny her accusation.

I watch her fidget and withdraw into her shoulders under my intrusive gaze. Willa shifts her eyes away as she tries not to show how affected she is by being watched.

She’s afraid but hasn’t lost her judgment yet.

“You killed her,” she voices her shock once more.

“I did,” I admit nonchalantly.

She inhales sharply, and the corners of her lips curl in distress. It comes as a surprise that Willa makes no move to run out the door when I hold it open. She has the chance to leave and find safety with the authorities but chooses not to.

Grounded by fear or blind foolishness, I honestly cannot find it in me to care.

My Willa is staying of her own volition.

Well, I did threaten her last night. Maybe she wasn’t unconscious at that time.

Would I follow through my threat?

Most definitely not. I did not go to all this trouble just so she can walk away from me.

“Willa, my darling,” I coo vilely. “Come closer to me.”

“What?” she sputters. “No way. You’re a murderer!”

“You’ll catch a cold,” I comment.

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