Page 61 of Obsession
I shoved her away and made a beeline for the bedroom—her bedroom—where my clothes lay in a pile on the floor. Mom came tumbling in after me, her eyes wild with a terror I’d never seen before.
She knew this was it.
“Don’t leave.” Her voice trembled and cracked. “Don’t leave me.”
Ignoring the raw pain in her voice, I pulled on my filthy jeans and zipped them up. I didn’t care if I lived or died anymore. I’d rather sleep under a bridge than stay in this fucking hellhole for a moment longer.
I would never be able to save her.
Now I had to rescue myself and pray that it wasn’t too late.
“Robbie,” she tried again, inching closer as I reached down for my black hoodie. “Mommy is sorry, okay?”
My head popped through the hole, and I slid my hands through the arms, then pulled it down over my contracting abs. “You’re sixteen years too late, Mom.” Even now, it hurt to say those words, no matter how much I hated her.
“Please!” She pulled my arm, her torn nails catching the fabric as I pushed past her at the doorway. “I need you, Robbie! I can’t live without you.”
Scoffing, I strode down the short hallway and entered the kitchen. My shoes were near the front door, the only thing that was placed neatly in this shithole. I picked them up and pulled them on, hopping on one foot while Mom sobbed, as though I had ripped her heart from her chest.
When I straightened up, I spared her one final glance. A glance that left no words unspoken between us.
I was done protecting her and making excuses for the evil in her. She was as broken as me, but I wasn’t born that way. No. She’d caused it.
“I love you…”
There it was. The words I’d dreamed of hearing my whole life.
A muscle clenched in my jaw as I broke eye contact and looked down at the floor, focusing on a stubbed-out cigarette butt. She’d cut me open with three simple words. But there she stood, resembling a stick, with yellowed and saggy skin from years of drug abuse and my sticky cum between her exposed thighs.
It was wrong.
Sick.
I couldn’t look at her, so I simply whispered, “Goodbye, Mom,” before striding out without another backward glance.
The voices fell silent, lulled for now, and I breathed out a relieved sigh and pulled my dark hood over my head whilewalking down the road with no direction in mind. It didn’t matter. I was finally free.
27
SAVANNAH
It’s scary, but I can’t stop smiling.
I place the recorder down on the table, shifting it just so, taking care to put it perfectly, more for something to do while I wait than anything else. I’m nervous, but not for the usual reasons. I can’t wait to see Robbie for the first time since he ate me out on top of this very table last week. The memory heats my cheeks, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip so I don’t grin like a fool when Robbie walks in.
I’m definitely a fool, falling for a man on death row.
I sigh, glancing out the window to my left. It’s another beautiful, still winter’s day. The bare, skinny trees sway in the breeze, and the sun sparkles off the snow that covers the recreational spaces outside. Each one is a fenced cage, as if to house its own dangerous, pacing tiger at a circus. It’s crazy to think the inmates aren’t even allowed to spend time together without bars separating them in a high-security place like this.
My eyes scan the small room I’m in. The single table, the empty chair opposite. The bare white walls, and the lone clock above the door.
After so many weeks sitting in this room, the ticking has become a source of comfort, reminding me that Robbie is still alive. He still has time.
Westill have time.
Looking down at my hands in my lap, I curse myself. I’m setting my heart up for heartbreak. If I were a smart woman, which I’m not, I’d pack up my bag and walk out. I’m already in too deep. The ship has long since sailed, and I’m now unable to write an impartial article on Robbie. But he wants me here, so here I am, letting him bring me to my knees with his rare smile that lights up the suffocating darkness in this place like a candle in the hopeless night, while he plays with my own shadows with carefully selected words and looks.
I’m so fucking screwed.
