Page 88 of Obsession
I was too big and strong for her to hit again. Too tall for her to take her anger and resentment out on. Now I served a different purpose. Filled a different hole in her life.
But the voices grew louder, more insistent, whispering things like, “She hates you. You’re worthless. Kill her. Cut her throat. You think she cares for you? Lies. No one cares about you. End her suffering. Wouldn’t it feel good to feel her life slip from her body? To see the light go out in her eyes. Only then will you be free.”
“Robbie, baby,” Mom whispered, stirring awake in the bed. Tied to the bed frame, the zip-ties around her bony wrists bit into her pale skin as she tugged on her restraints.
I switched on the bedside light, bathing the room in a dim glow. Mom’s eyes widened as I tightened my grip on the axe in my hand. “Robbie? What are you doing?”
Her small, naked tits bobbed on her chest when she renewed her attempts at pulling free from the restraints. Panic flickered in her blue eyes. She wriggled and yanked, causing the quilt to slide farther down her body. My gaze skated down to the dark curls at the apex of her thighs, and my stomach tightened and churned. I white-knuckled the wooden handle in my hand, allowing it to anchor me.
“Untie me, Robbie.” Mom’s lashes glistened with tears.
“Chop her to pieces.”
I cracked my neck, lost to the whispers.
My rock-hard cock bobbed against my bare stomach, and I shifted closer, watching Mom whimper. As I stood beside the bed, dragging the axe blade down Mom’s stomach, I felt overcome with power and adrenaline—a stark contrast to all the times I’d felt powerless around her.
Sobbing, she shook with fear, and I cocked my head while listening intently to the sound.
“Robbie, p-please untie me. I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have h-hurt you growing up. Mommy l-l-loves you.”
“Love,” I whispered, watching the blade sink into her dark pubic hairs.
Mom sobbed harder.
“Kill her. Do it!”
“You don’t know the meaning of love.”
“Put the axe down, Robbie.” Mom fought hard to steady her shaky voice. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Look at her. So pathetic and weak. Feels good, doesn’t it? To be in control for once.”
“The voices won’t shut up,” I muttered, staring blindly at the axe. “They keep me up at night.”
Whimpering, Mom briefly squeezed her eyes shut, as if praying for inner strength to wrangle the tendrils of panic.
Fear was all I’d known, thanks to her.
But not now. I got to wield the power for once and see my mom beg for mercy. For a woman who liked to inflict such pain and misery on her own child, she disappointed me now, sobbing and pleading with me as though I had a heart.
I was the product of herlove.Cold. Cruel. Merciless.
A sadist.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked, craning her neck when I rested the axe against the bed.
I reached for the duct tape on the bedside table and tore off a strip, keeping my eyes locked on her terrified ones. After placing it back down beside her bottle of vodka and a half-empty packet of cigarettes, I stuck the sticky strip to her mouth to shut her up.
I liked her like this, with tears slipping from the corners of her glassy eyes, tugging on the restraints, her small tits bouncing.
Sitting down beside her at the edge of the bed, I reached for the packet of cigarettes and lit one up before tossing the lighter back onto the nightstand.
Mom cried, fighting desperately to free her bleeding wrists while I smoked in silence, watching her struggle. It was peaceful.
The voices fell silent in the background for the first time, my heart slowed, and my breaths steadied.
Squinting, I took one final deep drag and held the cigarette up in front of my face. It was almost down to the filter, the embers glowing orange. I blew out the smoke in my lungs and peered down at Mom, who bounced her bloodshot eyes between me and the cigarette.
