Page 18 of His Obsession

He put his hands on me. He kissed me, and I slapped him. Dammit. I’m so fired. No, he slammed me against the wall. He deserved it. The predicament waging war in my head, I couldn’t deny my stomach’s flip-flop when his lips softly touched mine. I placed my fingers on my lips, and a small smile cracked.

The smirk fell from my face as the seriousness of the situation hit me full-force. That call… the man… the sinister laugh when he told me how he killed Mr. Donovan. The memory recalled, causing chills to travel up my spine as I imagined Mr. Donovan bleeding out on the floor, begging for help. I ran to my closet and grabbed a case hidden underneath my blankets. My Smith and Wesson Bodyguard .380 was the perfect little pocket-size handgun that fit nicely under my clothes. Although lately, its home had been in the back of my closet.

I put the case on my bed and flipped it open, checking the chamber for a bullet. I usually kept it loaded and ready to go. No kids around this home to worry about. I took the extra clips and loaded them with trembling fingers. This stuff didn’t happen to me. I lived a quiet life, woke up, went to work, slept—rinse and repeat. On the rarest occasion, I went to the club. I didn’t get creepy psychos calling me, bragging about murdering my co-worker. I didn’t get sexy-ass men choking me out one minute and then kissing me the next. Someone was playing a cruel joke on me, and I didn’t like it.

Ha-ha, you can come out now, the joke is over!

“Liz, are you… oh my God, what are you doing with a gun?” Lucy said, startling me from my thoughts. She looked like I had drawn her out from a deep sleep. Her hair was a beautiful mess, and mascara smeared under her lashes. She tightened the robe around her waist, accentuating her curves.

“I had a bad day. I was just—”

“—Jesus. Your life isn’t that bad, Liz; put the fucking gun away! Whatever happened, it isn’t worth you killing yourself over!” she said.

“Lucy, I’m not going to kill myself, you nincompoop. I’m getting my gun ready to carry around,” I sighed. “My co-worker went missing, and I just wanted to protect myself,”I explained with as little detail as possible. I didn’t know why I didn’t tell her about Alek kissing me, or the scary phone call, or anything else that I should have. I told Lucy everything; she was like my sister. It’s just when the words tried to come out, a little voice in my head kept telling me not to share it—to keep it to myself.

She put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath, letting it out. “Thank God, I really didn’t want to have you committed. I mean, how could I brag about my BFF being in the crazy house?” she said, laughing it off. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Worry crept back on her face.

“I’m good, I promise.”

“Well, Dale and I are going to a movie tomorrow night. Do you want to tag along? I promise I won’t give him a hand-job next to you again.” She put her hands together like she was praying and gave me her best doll-eyed look.

I rolled my eyes at her. “You said that last time, and it still happened. You guys are like horny rabbits that can’t keep your friendly hands off of each other.” What’s that saying, ‘fool me once, shame on you?’“Why don’t you two just date each other already?” They were friends with benefits for a long time, and they “loved” each other. They worked great together, but they both refused to go on a proper date, they would just fuck and then see other people. One of the most frustrating relationships of all time.

“Oh, not this again, Liz! We are just friends. Do you want to come or not?” she asked. She put her hand on her hip and looked at her nails. Her telltale sign that I peeved her. It was the cue for me to drop the subject, or it’d get ugly.

“Yeah, but I swear to Christ if you do that again, I’m lighting you up and putting it on blast, so everyone will see,” I said. The seriousness in my voice conveying I would do it, but the small smile suggested I could be joking.

“You wish you had the balls to do that,” she said with a bright smile. “Now, put that gun away, you know I hate them!” I could hear her footsteps go up the stairs and march to her room. I put my gun back in its case when I heard filtered laughter coming through the ceiling… Dale was here. Oh, Lord, did he overhear me? I palmed my face, trying not to think about what he might have heard. I shook my embarrassment away and got back to the task at hand.Now, where did I put that extramagazine?

∞∞∞

Last night, after taking a hot bath to calm my fried nerves and mixed emotions, I kept getting this gut feeling that I was being watched. It was a disconcerting feeling, like I just knew that the person watching me had wicked intentions. I kept trying to convince myself it was because of the call and the voice that I couldn’t seem to get out of my head. While I was sleeping, I jerked awake with a sense of dread, and I couldn’t shake it. I ran around the house with my gun, searching in all the little corners, finding nothing. I didn’t go back to sleep until Lucy came back from work.

I woke up this morning feeling groggy and exhausted. I wasn’t going to work today; I didn’t even know if I still had a job, anyway. I sure as shit would not call Alek and find out. Besides, Randall was my boss, I didn’t slap him, and he didn’t kiss me. I should still have my job. Why was I concerned about this again? I’d just go to HR and tell them that Alek Jackson accosted me. Oh, who was I kidding? I couldn’t do that, he was the owner, and I’d be fired for sure. I’d just stay home and take a sick day. Besides, I couldn’t face either of them today, especially after Alek pulled me out of the restaurant like I was some damsel in distress.

I guessed I was going to the movies with Dale and Lucy. Dale spoke to me while she was getting ready for work last night and promised to be on his best behavior at the theater. I had seen him behave, and it was still debatable. We were talking about two people who were practically sex addicts and enjoy PDA.

I rolled over in bed and grabbed my phone to see if I had any messages. One missed call from Randall, two texts from Alek, and five from Lucy. She must have had a busy night.

Ignoring the texts from Alek, I opened the five from Lucy.

Lucy: A man just walked in with a purple mohawk and a split tongue. Do you think he could lick my ass and pussy at the same time?

Lord, help me. This was what I get from a sex addict.

Lucy: A fight just broke out.

Lucy: Blood everywhere

Lucy: Seriously, this chick must be high as a kite and is skating in it.

Lucy: OMG, she fell in it, and now she’s puking. Shit, I think I might puke now.

Well, that sounded disgusting.

It was only nine in the morning, so Lucy would be asleep for at least another four hours. I had plenty of time to tidy the house and get dressed before it was time to go. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and put on some old shorts and a holey t-shirt—the ones I only used for cleaning. I put my headphones in place and started up my cleaning playlist “Human” by Rag’ n’ Bone Man, which soothed my soul and made me want to sing to his deep, soulful voice. I started bleaching the sink, floor, and refrigerator—working away my worries.

Cleaning was my therapy. I didn’t need to pay some expensive wench to sit in a chair with a pen and paper asking me about my issues. I’ve thoroughly experienced the psychology field, and they are all just a bunch of humans—learning as they go. Bleach water and rubber gloves always made me feel better, but maybe it was the fumes.