Page 40 of Obsession (Dark Revenge)
I could see that Alison was avoiding the topic I was most interested in, but I was patient. I would inquire again later, and somehow, she would have to provide me with answers. If she continued to keep secrets from me, I was determined to ensure that they would be exposed to the world.
For now, I decided to continue with our role-playing game, taking things one step at a time. If I were to survive my marriage to Astrid, I needed to understand how Alison managed to endure being married to a cheating scoundrel who fathered children with other women while she struggled to conceive. She held the key to those answers, and I intended to unlock them.
“Well, I don’t have any exciting stories about going on expensive yachts or traveling the world,” I began.
“Then tell me the mundane ones. Make my eyelids droop, make me feel like I’m listening to our history teacher all over again,” Alison teased.
I chuckled, recalling our old teacher, who should have retired long ago. “Oh, God, can you remember? Did you even understand a word that came out of his mouth?”
“I’m not sure he even understood what he was saying himself. I know for a fact he sometimes covered material that wasn’t even on the curriculum.”
We both laughed, reminiscing about old times, but the laughter faded as quickly as it had begun. Alison and I had discussed our past experiences related to her mistreatment of me, but we had never bonded over more lighthearted memories, as if we were old friends. It felt unsettling, and I cleared my throat before taking a sip of my drink.
“All right,” I replied, “mundane things...”
I tried to think of something to talk about that the old Jared might have brought up, but that version of myself was a hollow shell, filled only with painful memories. There was nothing mundane about those experiences. They were simply tormenting times I preferred not to dwell on.
“I don’t have anything in that department either,” I confessed.
“That can’t be true. There has to be something. I know you enjoy drawing. Why?” Alison inquired.
“It’s an escape. Nothing else matters when I draw. I can immerse myself in a different world.”
“What are you escaping from?”
I shook my head. “As you said, some things aren’t suitable for first-date conversations.”
“All right. Then what do you draw?”
“Anything I want. Places I wish to visit. Places I wish were real.”
“Do you draw people?”
“Occasionally,” I replied, recalling the numerous drawings I had created of Alison and hung up in my room, serving as outlets for my frustration and anger.
“Perhaps you might show me your drawings someday,” Alison suggested.
I offered a small smile in response, though I knew she had no interest in seeing the many drawings I had made of her, or the alterations I had made to them.
“Are you close to your parents?” Alison asked, and I gave her an irritated look.
“Young Alison knew I wasn’t. Everyone knew who my father was, and my mother abandoned me and never returned,” I snapped, disliking that she had broached that topic.
“Well, how much am I supposed to know based on our scenario here?”
“Parents are off-limits.”
“All right, no parent talk,” she conceded, raising her hands. “But that goes for mine too.”
“Who says I agree to that?”
She sighed, scolding me with her gaze. “Remember? Teamwork? You can only take what you’re willing to give.”
“Is that how you make it work with Warren? Because, in my eyes, it seems like you’re giving more than he is,” I pointed out.
“I’m only 18. Who is Warren?” she deflected.
I rolled my eyes, but if she didn’t want to reveal her tactics that easily, then so be it. I grabbed her hand and pulled her off her seat.
