Page 15 of To Obsess

Knife in hand, I close the space between us and run the blade from the bend of his elbow up to the curve of his shoulder. “Look. We can do this either way. I truly don’t mind getting my hands dirty. If you’d like to avoid that, I would suggest that you continue talking. Tell me what happened and we can see about getting out of here.”

The sound of his clothes scraping against the bark of the tree make its way to my ears, grating on my already frazzled nerves. My chest slowly tightens with each passing second, bringing me ever closer to losing my patience.

He huffs, all resolve breaking when he sees I’m not going to back down. “We were kissing, right? Things were fine. Next thing I know, she’s pushing away from me, asking about more drinks and some seeing where the night leads bullshit.” The rage is back in his voice, like he was somehow shorted in the situation, like he was owed her body just because they went out and he paid for dinner. “So, I left. Yeah, I was a little pissed off about wasting the time this evening and paying for the entire meal, so I peeled out of her driveway to let off a little steam.” The bark scrapes against his arms as he shrugs, truly not seeing his actions as anything abnormal apparently.

“Nothing else happened?” The cold words fall from my lips as my fingers tighten around the handle of the knife again, begging for a release.

“Not really.” It’s not a real answer.

“You sure about that, Gunnar?” I bounce the knife against my palm.

“She fell, okay?” His voice trembles slightly, giving him away. “That was it—”

I take one step away from him as I draw back, and my fist connects with the side of his face in the next instant. The crunch is satisfying, yes, but it does little to quench the thirst. He’s lying, and I want to know why.

“Fuck, man! You fucking hit me!” He spits on the ground, likely not enjoying the feel of his own blood coating his teeth.

“Tell me the rest of what happened or you won’t leave here alive.” It’s a simple statement, no extra flair needed.

I’d give nearly anything to see the rage flickering in his eyes right now. I can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves, all directed at me now, Violet forgotten.

He takes another moment, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “I lost my cool when she put me off. Just for a second. I-I slapped her. She lost her balance. When I left, she was still—” His words cut off as I slide the knife up on side of his face, tip dragging over the sensitive skin. He’s smart enough to keep quiet now.

Unfortunately for Gunnar, it’s too late for redemption.

The knife slips back into the sheath clipped on my belt before my fists are pummeling him in the dark. Face, chest, stomach—it doesn’t matter much to me at this point. As long as my knuckles are making contact with his body in some fashion, it’s enough.

His cries are half-hearted and breathy as the wind is knocked from him with a blow to his stomach, leaving him curled over as much as he can be, ropes still restraining his upper body.

“P-p-please, man. What do you want?” he stammers, fear clogging his voice. “I’ll stay away from her, I swear. I’ll do whatever you want, just say the word!”

The laugh that slips past my teeth is menacing. Instead of wasting another word on this despicable piece of filth, I sink my knife into his. The sharp inhale of surprise that follows is like music to my ears. It’ll be carved into my memory until my dying breath.

Another three stabs for good measure, plus a slice to the throat, and I’m confident Gunnar isn’t going to be a problem for anyone else ever again. And this is only the beginning of the fun I’m going to have with him.

Chapter 15

Violet

A knock at the door startles me, nearly causing me to drop the book I’d been reading. I’d grabbed a newly released thriller from the bookstore last week and decided today was as good a time as any to jump into it. It quickly wrapped me up, ushering me into the world of serial killers and axe murderers, leaving the real world behind.

“Coming!” I yell, slipping the bookmark between the pages with a sigh. Padding to the door on light feet, I turn the lock and pull the door open, not bothering to look through the peephole.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Abby chastises, throwing her arms around me in a hug tight enough to knock me off balance. She pulls away to look at me, one hand on each shoulder, before pulling me back in for another tight embrace. “I was worried sick!”

“I’m so sorry, mother,” I mock, trying to lighten the mood. “I got caught up reading this morning and haven’t looked at my phone.”

The glare that burns into my eyes is menacing to say the least. Abby looks sweet enough, but I know better than to entice her wrath. I’ve been on the receiving end of that one too many times, and I’m not eager to repeat that anytime soon.

She pushes past me with a huff, making her way to the kitchen. I close the door gently before following. What in the world has gotten into her this morning? She snags a bottle of wine from the fridge before plopping down on the couch and taking a swig, offering it to me when she’s done.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, shaking my head at the bottle. She takes another deep pull before setting it on the coffee table.

“Where were you last night?” she counters, eyes boring holes in mine again. “You didn’t answer your phone last night, and I hadn’t heard from you this morning. It’s after noon, Vi!”

“I was here, Abby. I haven’t left since I made it home last night. I invited Gunnar over, and it didn’t go quite how I had hoped, so I was sulking,” I explain, hopeful that I can stop the tidal wave of her rage.

Her expression softens ever so slightly, but she’s not completely satisfied with my half-ass explanation. “What do you mean ‘it didn’t go quite how you hoped’?”