Page 146 of Obsession
When did I stop looking over my shoulder? When did I lose hope? When did the truth sink in?
Robbie is gone.
A comforting hand on my shoulder tears me from my thoughts and the for-sale sign in my front yard. Charlotte rests her temple on my shoulder and says, “It’ll be strange for you never to return here.”
“Yes…” My voice is weak and quiet. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
She squeezes my shoulder, and we silently watch the workmen carry my leather couch—the last remaining item in the house—into the van.
“It looks like a shell,” I comment as my gaze roams over the porch and windows.
Void of curtains, it looks empty.
Abandoned.
Charlotte straightens up and offers me a motherly smile. “You’ll be fine. I know you will.”
Sighing, I pull her in for a hug, grateful that she’s been here for me over the last couple of months and never turned her back on me. “Thank you for everything.”
“I’m only a phone call away.”
I blink back tears and hold her closely, staring at the lush trees at the back of the property. The snow is long gone, and summer is in full swing, with mild evenings and even hotter days.
I’m parked on the sidewalk. My trunk is packed with my suitcase, and the van is ready to set off with my furniture. Charlotte is the last thing keeping me here—theonlything keeping me. I quit my job after they found out the truth about my brother.
Brother.
Even now, I can’t wrap my head around how Elliot knew so much about me, yet I knew nothing about him. I’ve tried to understand and make sense of everything, but it’s proven impossible so far. Elliot wore many masks: the successful reporter, the charmer, the manipulator, the schemer, the stalker, the serial killer. I guess I’ll never figure out who the real Elliot was beneath all the layers or what motivated him to seek me out and why he became obsessed with his own sister.
The more I think about it, the more questions I have.
James was apologetic, blaming himself for hiring Elliot, but I explained to him that it wasn’t his fault and that he couldn’t have known. Though I doubt it gave him much peace.
“Call me when you arrive,” Charlotte says, releasing me and wiping away her tears.
Car keys in hand, I look back at the house—a house that could be homely and inviting but gives me the chills instead.
My father stole my innocence inside that building and invited his friends to do unspeakable things to me.
For years, I buried those memories, pretending they happened to someone else, pretending I could move on and forget about them. But all that did was allow sick men to get away with their crimes unpunished while I carried the shame deep inside me.
It wasn’t until I sat down opposite Robbie and was forced to confront my past, that I started to heal.
“I’ll call you,” I reply.
My mind drifts as I slide my gaze over the peeling paint and the lone wind chime hanging from the porch.
“Drive carefully.”
I offer Charlotte one final smile before walking over to my car.
My eyes sting with tears.
After sliding inside, I discard my handbag beside Whiskers’ cat carrier on the backseat.
“Are you ready for an adventure?” I ask him, smiling softly.
He paws at the bars, looking worried. He probably thinks I’m taking him to the vet again for his injections. Poor little thing.
