Page 107 of Total Obsession

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it’s obvious you have a history. Some people might call that baggage. But, I just think that means you’re already packed for your next adventure. Don’t fight what feels right,” she said to me. “Even if everyone, yourself included, is trying to tell you that it’s wrong.”

She went back inside, leaving her words hanging in the air in front of me.

thirty-three

AXE

The only day that Zoey had actually talked to me was the first day at the hotel, when she’d asked me all of her questions and the time she’d asked for her coat. I told her everything she wanted to know. I didn't try and hide anything from her. I knew that if I was serious about trying to win her back, it was me that was going to have to do the groveling this time.

And, I was fine with that.

It was quite obvious that there was no way I was going to stop Zoey from going out. If nothing else, her being at the diner every single day at least gave her an outlet for her stress. The place seemed to be pretty low-key, so in terms of activities she could have picked, it was on the safer side.

I followed her there and back every single day that she worked. Things continued that way for a few weeks. Up until today, she hadn’t spoken to me at the restaurant other than to refill my coffee.

I hated that this was what I’d reduced her to.

I’d fucked up and badly.

I spent my days sitting at that diner, staring out the window, thinking of ways that I could make the wrong that I’d done right. I was swimming in my own guilt and knew that pretty soon, I’d be drowning in it. It took me about a week to come to the conclusion that there was only one way out of this. Well, only one way out of this that would achieve what I needed it to achieve.

I hated to think about it, because I knew it would tear us apart. I also knew it was what needed to be done.

When she returned home for the evenings, she would take a shower. She tried to hide it, but I could still hear her sobs through the door. Oftentimes I would sit on the floor on the other side of the door and just listen. I wished she would open up to me. Even if it was to scream and yell or hit me, I’d take it all, jus to have some interaction with her. I wanted so badly to rush in there and hold her, but I knew she would never let me. I knew I didn’t deserve to touch her.

Sleeping in a chair wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when you had a set of broken ribs, but I wasn't even going to try and ask to share the bed with her. So, around 2 a.m. when her night terror started, I was already awake.

"No! Don't touch me," she mumbled in her sleep, starting to toss and turn.

At first, I thought she was talking to me, so I just stayed put in my chair. But then what she said started to take a more sinister turn.

"I had to! He was trying to rape me. No, you don't understand! I had to kill him! I didn't want to."

I thought back to that night. It hadn't really crossed my mind that Zoey might still be reeling from the death of that man in the alleyway. My body count was incredibly high. At a certain point, you just get over the idea that those demons might haunt you in the night.

But, that wasn't always the case. My first kill had also been my father. I never felt guilt over taking his life. Perhaps in a way, that had eased me into this dark and twisted world I'd become a part of.

But Zoey, she wasn't like that. She was good and pure and kind. Taking another man's life would certainly weigh on her. I felt foolish for not addressing it with her sooner. Even when she'd plunged that blood-soaked knife into me, I'd seen the guilt on her face over it.

She started thrashing in her sleep, and I made the decision to go to her. I figured I couldn't be in any more hot water with her than I already was, and I couldn't just sit there and watch her suffer.

I winced as I got up out of the chair. I knew it would be months before I was able to move without pain again. I made my way over to the side of the bed and carefully sat down next to her.

I didn't try and wake her immediately. If I did, she would wake with a start and feel frantic. Instead, I just caressed her forehead and her shoulders, trying to get her body to calm down through gentle movement.

It worked and slowly the terrors dissipated and her breathing evened. When I felt confident that she'd fallen back asleep, I stood back up and started to make my way back to my chair.

A touch to my hand had me turning around and looking at her. Her eyes were open and they were full of unshed tears.

"Will you sit next to me?" she asked in a small voice. "I don't want to be alone."

"Of course," I said, sitting back down. Her hand didn't leave mine, and I dared to rub my thumb back and forth, drawing gentle circles.

"When I close my eyes I can see him," she said. "I can see the way he looked when he died. I can feel the blood still on my hands."

"It will fade," I promised her. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Is that true?" she asked, her voice weak.