Page 21 of Quiet Obsession
I’ll fight anyone for any reason, or no reason at all. Throwing fists has been my outlet since I realized I don’t have to curl into a ball and take it.
When I met Hyde, I was well on the way to alcoholism... but giving up heavy drinking was a piece of cake compared to giving up fighting. And before Hyde, before the fight club started halfway through freshman year, fighting and drinking were symbiotic.
Now, the rage bubbling beneath my skin bleeds out in a controlled environment while there’s little to no alcohol whooshing through my body. I fight because I need to letthe monster out, but I haven’t started a fight in a bar sincethatnight.
“Checkmate,” Noah says, trapping Millie’s king.
She tilts her head, ring finger tapping the table. There’s nothing she can do now, not one move that’ll save her.
Dash lines the glasses up on the table, pouring the liquor.
“None for me,” I say.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding. You don’t wait for us to celebrate, and now you won’t haveone?”
“You know it rarely stops at one.”
“Again?” Noah asks, no trace of his usual gloating.
“You mind if I play?” I ask, noting how Millie’s shoulders tense at my voice.
Noah nods, and she swallows hard, fingers flexing, hovering over the pieces she took during their match.
“You lost, so whites are mine,” I tell her, turning the board.
Dash grabs his tumbler and stands, clearing his throat. “To Jeremiah Creed’s very overdue death. May he rot in hell.”
“Hear, hear,” Noah says, taking a big sip.
Hyde raises his glass, tipping it my way before drinking and Millie glances between my friends, two wrinkles denting her forehead. Her lips part, but not a sound leaves her mouth.
Say something, Millie. Anything.
“So, how did old Jeremiah die, Creed?” Dash asks.
“Slowly.” I move my pawn. “Looked painful, too.”
Noah smirks. “There’s some justice in the world after all. What time’s the funeral? No honors, I assume?”
Hyde chuckles. “None. Rita won’t like it. The funeral home director didn’t like either. You should’ve seen his face when Creed picked out the casket.”
“A garbage bag would be too generous,” Dash chuckles.
“That wasn’t an option.” I move my bishop, taking Millie’s pawn. “Neither was a cardboard box. Trust me, I checked. Pine was the cheapest they had.”
“I can’t wait to see Greta’s face tomorrow when she sees her beloved, decorated brother in afucking pine box,” Noah says.
“At an empty graveyard,” I add. “It’ll just be her and us. Maybe a few neighbors.”
Millie listens, lips pursed, eyes on the board but flicking between us every so often.
“I thought you’d cremate him,” Noah says.
“It crossed my mind, but then I imagined bugs crawling over his rotting corpse and I like that better.”
Millie shudders, sending Dash a sideways glance.
“Drink?” he guesses, grinning at her. “Coming up, Mini Ward. Whiskey or wine?”
