Page 2 of Deadly Obsession
This would be the longest I’d been away from my parents in years, and the first time I’d ever been away from Alexander longer than the occasional sleepover at his best mate’s house. Alexander had been exposed to things a child should never have been exposed to within his early years. Neither of us should have been.
My mind began slipping down that dangerous slope to the horrible memories I’d been trying so hard to block out. I missed my parents. But most of all, right now, I missed my son.
Opening my camera, I switched it from photo to video, flipped to selfie mode and pressed record. “Hey, baby boy! Mummy just wanted to say I love you so very much and I’ll be home before you know it! Be extra good for grandma and grandpa!”
I dropped the video in the text string and hit send before closing it and looking at my home screen. Smiling, I kissed the photo of my baby boy I used as my background wallpaper. Then I turned off the screen and picked up my book, trying to distract myself from the horrid memories. Something I found difficult enough in my consciousness and impossible to contain in the dream world. Before long, though, I felt the familiar heaviness of fatigue weighing on my eyes. And with book in hand, I sank into the darkness.
“There’s Daddy’s Sera Doll! Daddy is home and so horny,” he said, his words slurring as he stumbled forward. I could hear Alexander crying in the distance, clearly woken by his father’s abrupt entrance into our bedroom.
Standing from our bed, I went to move past my husband, only to be stopped by a large hand on my shoulder, the other gripping my breast through my pajama top.
“Mike, let me go. Alexander is crying,” I pleaded softly.
“Fucking brat can wait! Shut up, kid!” he said, still gripping me as he yelled at our son. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey, and I could see lipstick stains on his neck and what looked like bite marks.
“Mike, let—” was all I could get out before I felt the back of his hand come across my face, and I saw stars.
“Shut up, bitch,” he barked and shoved me back, my legs catching on the frame and causing me to fall onto the bed. Then I watched in horror as he staggered towards me, undoing his trousers as my child’s cries echoed from down the hall.
TWO
SERA
My eyes snapped open, rescuing me from the nightmare that had become a recurring one, more and more since Mike had started leaving terrifying things near my and my parents’ home. The constables couldn’t orwouldn’tdo anything, saying that technically we had no proof it was him. I was living in a nightmare that never ended, far worse than Freddy Krueger because my boogeyman pursued me in and out of my dreams. It had gotten to the point my mind had started conjuring up some very permanent solutions to my misery—solutions of the darkest kind.
Shaking my head and rubbing my eyes, I found myself still lying on the couch. “Damn...” I cursed under my breath as I rubbed at my stiff neck.
The lights were all off but the flames from the mammoth hearth did a good job of illuminating the majority of the room. Looking around, I spotted my glass of wine on the end table behind me, right where I left it.
But where was my book?
I searched the couch and the floor and I still couldn’t see it anywhere. Standing up to ensure I was not sitting on it, I happened to glance over to the fireplace and froze as I struggledto process the changes in the room. Not only were there fresh logs in the fire, but propped up on the mantle just below the television was my book.
“How the fuck...” I whispered softly to myself as I stepped closer.
Picking up the book, I noticed my bookmark sticking out from between the pages. I opened it up and instantly recognized the scene that had been marked. I’d already read the chapter—the one where Blakeley had a dream about the masked man chasing her. It was my favorite, something only a handful of people knew.
One of the logs on the fire shifted in front of me, the noise and the flicker of light causing me to jump and slam the book closed. “Shit!” I cried out, taking a step back.
Before I had a moment to catch my breath, Icaughtsight of something else in my periphery. I turned on my heel, my eyes locking on an imposing figure, the dark silhouette lost in the night’s void. All except his mask. Black. One side smooth and faceless, a red slash cutting across the hollow eye socket, and the other shaped like a human skull.
But it was the white of the figure’s eyes glaring at me that had time freezing as I watched him slowly slide the door open and step into the room. He was dressed in all-black tactical clothing with a bundle of black rope attached to his hip. He appeared to be well over six-feet tall and athletically built, a wall of horrifying darkness. Not a sliver of skin was exposed; the only part of him I could see was the light-green color of his irises, and they were honed in on me.
Taking a few more steps in my direction, he stopped at the halfway mark. Then, with unblinking eyes, he slowly growled out, “Run.”
As if that one word had pried my feet from where they were cemented to the floor, I took off like a shot. The problem was, I had no idea where I was or where to go. All I knew was that I had to getaway.
Bolting out the front double doors, I turned left and ran down the hill that led to the lower half of the split-level house. As I passed the entrance, I heard the thudding stomps of boots on the wooden deck above me. Then, as though he were in some supervillain movie, the masked man landed heavily in a crouch position on the ground before me with a grunt.
My heels skidded to a halt, my body instinctively leaning away and causing me to fall backwards onto my ass. Screaming, I turned and pushed off the dirt with as much energy as I could force out with the adrenaline flooding into my numb limbs.
“Help!” I cried out as I sprinted down the gravel driveway, which must have taken twenty minutes to navigate in the Uber and I didn’t recall seeing any homes or even lights for miles before that.
Behind me, I could hear the crunching of the man’s boots as he kept pace with me. There was no way I was going to get much farther in nothing but my pajamas and house slippers—along with the thousands of tiny rocks, I could also feel the occasional stick stabbing at the bottom of my feet. Hoping for softer ground, I cut sharply off the driveway to enter the woods. Maybe I could lose him among the dense trees and make it back to the cabin to call for help…
Fuck, I wish I had my phone. Did the cabin even have a landline?
My thoughts raced as I continued my frantic run through the woods in no particular direction. I pushed past twisting branches and pointed twigs from the various trees and underbrush, even as they cut through my silk pajamas. I was fairly certain I was bleeding from more than one superficial wound. The chilled fall air felt like shards of glass, growing sharper in my chest.
