Page 30 of Obsession
“Trust me and I’ll tell you every delicious, gory detail, ma’am.”
I blink at him, at a loss for words.
How can his cold voice lack emotion when he speaks of the girls he killed? “Do you not feel any regret at all?”
“Would that make you sleep better tonight?” A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth.
“I guess I just can’t understand how anyone can do something so vicious and not feel remorse.”
“Tell me, Savannah.” His tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip. “Do you feel regret?”
My eyes widen.
What the hell?
“Like I said…” His raspy voice grips my throat in a vise as he sits forward, taking up far too much space. “I’ll give you my story when you trust me with yours.”
13
SAVANNAH
Idon’t know how long I’ve sat in this chair, with my elbows braced on my thighs and my fingers steepled at my mouth.
My father stares at the TV, rewatching yesterday’s race. Charlotte is clattering dishes in the kitchen, but I can’t look away from my father.
Did he ever love me?
In his own twisted mind, did he care about me? His daughter and only child?
I’ve felt unnerved since I left the prison.
Robbie has an uncanny way of slithering inside my veins like a parasite. I can’t shake the way his carefully delivered words rattle me to the core, like sharpened blades.
He wields them with precision. Maybe he can’t tie me to his bed and torture me for days with a weapon of his choice, but he has no issue digging out the shadows lurking inside me. I’m a game to him—one he enjoys unraveling, layer by layer.
I’m coming undone, whether I want to or not.
My father’s breathing is quieter today, and I find myself listening for every breath.
When his chest inflates, I’m both relieved and disappointed. How can I feel so conflicted? The man is a predator. But sometimes, bigger monsters lie in wait.
Monsters like?—
“Are you okay, Savannah?”
I jerk my head up, blinking at Charlotte. She watches me at the entrance to the living room, hands clasped in front of her. The worry lines on her forehead are impossible to miss.
“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Just tired and worried about money.”
Sighing softly, she ventures farther into the room and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“The savings are running out. I won’t be able to afford one-on-one care soon.” I reach up and put my hand on hers, staring unseeingly at my father. “I can’t possibly be by his side all the time.”
“I know,” she replies in a quiet voice. “No one expects you to.”
“They do. He’s my father. I’m the only person he has.”
How ironic is that?
