Page 3 of Their Obsession

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask as I look from one face to the next.

“Ms. Pettersen, did you or did you not have an altercationwith the victim, Mr. Peter Fischer, at the end of last week?” the unknown man who I now realize is probably some type of detective asks me. His eyes bore into me as if they can see straight into my soul.

I debate lying but second guess that decision. I was probably just one of many people who he mistreated last week.

“He threatened me,” I say, glancing at the ground to avoid the piercing eyes of the adults surrounding me. “He told me he’d hurt me if I didn’t help him cheat on our statistics test.”

“Oh, honey,” my mom says in a soothing tone while running her hand through my hair.

“And did you? Did you help him cheat?” the detective presses.

“Y—yes,” I mumble as tears begin to flow down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t expel me.” I pull down the turtleneck to expose my throat. My mother gasps at the sight. “I’m so sorry I cheated, but he hurt me and threatened to hurt me more. I let him cheat off me, but I swear it was only because I was afraid of what he’d do to me. I just didn’t want him to hurt me anymore. I wouldn’t—-.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” my mother interrupts me. “It’s alright, we know you didn’t hurt anyone. They’re just here to figure out what happened. Right, Detective?” The way she says the last word tells me that she’s ready for a fight should he try to push any further.

I take several calming breaths, pushing the tears and anxiety welling inside me back down. I can freak out later; right now, I need to try to keep my shit together.

“I understand you want to protect your daughter, ma’am, but we have a young man, a talented athlete with a bright future ahead of him, who has gone missing. His tracks lead into the woods behind his house where we found a pool of blood and signs of a struggle. The boy might be alive and we want to find him and bring resolution to this. It appears your daughter hada motive to want to see him suffer. So, if you want her name cleared, then I need to know where she was Saturday night.”

Signs of a struggle? Blood? Bile rises in my throat. I lean forward, resting my head in my hand.

“Well, that’s easy then,” my mother explains before I can even open my mouth. “She was with me. Her father plays for the Kings. She was with me, in our box, until late that night. Then she drove home with us and was at home the remainder of the evening. I had to wake her up the next morning.”

“Is that true, Lilliana?” the detective asks me.

I pause for a moment before nodding, unable to form words. He pauses for a moment, seemingly thinking it all over.

“Can you think of anyone who might have seen this alleged altercation, or who had a similar incident with the victim and might have wanted to hurt him?” the detective prods.

I think for a minute, my eyes still firmly fixed on the floor, my strawberry-blonde locks falling in front of my face. Dark, murderous eyes flash across my mind.

“No,” I whisper. “No one. Can I please be dismissed now?”

The detective sighs heavily before relenting, “Fine.”

Without a glance behind me, I grab my things and run from the office. I don’t even bother saying goodbye to my mother. Running past the secretary and into the empty hall, I make a beeline for my locker. Spinning the lock back and forth and back again, I struggle to land on the correct numbers with how hard my hands are shaking. Once the locker finally pops open, I stick my entire head inside the dark and cool confines. I suck in several deep breaths, willing the impending panic attack to loosen its grip on my chest. In and out. In and out.

The ball of oppressive anxiety begins to wane. I slowly start to feel my body loosen and relax. Everything is okay. I’m okay. And then the smell hits me. There’s something nasty in here. Shit, did I leave an old lunch or something in here to rot? I begin lookingthrough the darkness.

Sitting on the shelf is a single white rose and a small black box tied with a red ribbon. I definitely didn’t leave that there. But no one else knows the combo to my locker. Gently, I bring the rose to my nose, letting the sweet scent cover the stench of whatever is in my locker. The silken petals tickle my skin. Setting the rose back down, I pick up the box. It’s surprisingly light. Pulling the end of the scarlet satin, the bow gracefully unfurls. Excitedly, I pull the lid from the box. Inside is a note:

No one touches what belongs to me

Beneath the note is an object lying on what was once white tissue paper. The delicate layers are now crusted a brownish color. And sitting on top is the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen.

TWO

Lilly

Present Day

Iwake with a sudden jerk. My heart is racing and my head is spinning. Sweat beads on my brow and soaks through the thin material of the lightweight t-shirt I wore to bed. My chest is tight and heavy, as if an enormous weight is resting on my diaphragm. I can’t seem to catch a full breath.

My eyes dart around the room. Light streams in through the large windows of my industrial style apartment. Outside is a stereotypical city view—sky scrapers and glass towers. My white bed linens are crumpled around the foot of my bed after a fitful night’s sleep.

I’m safe. I’m home in my apartment, far away from that place and that person. I’m not lost in those woods anymore. There is no more masked man. I am no longer Lilliana Pettersen. I’m Lillianna Stevens. I’m not that girl. I’ve moved away, moved on. No one knows. No one willeverknow.

I repeat these words back to myself over and over again, trying to remind myself that is a past version of me, one who doesn’t exist anymore. I’m now a strong and independent woman who is taking care of herself. I no longer need to fear the masked monster who haunts the shadows. I left him and his destructive pain in my past long ago. No one from back then even knows my new last name. The past is behind me.

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