Deadly Obsession - Chapter 13 (Patreon)

Years ago, I celebrated my birthday somewhere fun. I barely remember it, but there were kids everywhere. I remember a cake, candles, and lots of balloons. I also remember my father being too busy to come sing happy birthday to me.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering if he ever regretted that decision. The decision to talk business on a Saturday instead of coming to sing to his daughter had he known it would be the last birthday he would ever have with me. The last chance to see me age.

Now, I'm spending my birthday running for my life. The air is chilly and I can’t see a thing. The only lesson I’ve managed to take from these games Romelo likes to play is never follow the driveway. He’ll catch me faster than I can run.

Once, he let me get far enough but managed to stop me before I could put my hands on the gate to crawl over. The fence is electric. He thought of everything. So now, I have to get to the road by travelling through the woods and somehow making it around the property.

Honestly, all I want to do is sleep. I don’t want to play tonight. I don’t want to feel fear or pain tonight. But that’s not my call. It never is.

I feel around in the dark for the nearest tree, leaning against it as I catch my breath. My throat is burning from all the running, and I can feel the sheen of sweat turning cold on my face. Each time I close my eyes, Romelo's terrifying gaze pops into my head. Something has him on edge tonight.

I hear the rustle of leaves and jump, my heart thundering loudly in my chest. I look around, trying to force my eyes to adjust in the dark but it just isn't happening. I shakily pull the knife out of my pocket, holding it out in front of me. Just as sudden as it started, the rustling stops, leaving me in silence once again.

I stand, nervously and take off into the dark forest. Romelo probably already knows where I am. He’s probably following me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I first started running, but I’m already exhausted. My nerves are shot and I still have no idea where the road is. Sometimes I wonder if the road exists. Or if this is Romelo’s twisted way of playing with my mind.

In all my thinking, I don’t see a pot hole and my foot lands in it, twisting at an uncomfortable angle. I cry out in pain, falling to the ground. My ankle is throbbing in pain and when I try and stand, I can’t.

“Shit,” I hiss. I feel tears of frustration burning my eyes.

A deep chuckle causes my muscles to tense in fear, and I look around me in the darkness, unable to see anything

"Well, this ruins the whole point of the game doesn't it?" Romelo says.

I look around trying to find him, reaching in my pocket for the gun he gave me. I hear the rustle of leaves as he draws near.

“Dont come any closer!” I say in a panic.

“Or what? Are you going to shoot me?” he chuckles.

I hear more rustling, and quickly move the gun in a new direction. I pull the trigger, hearing the bullet chip a nearby tree. Silence overcomes the area surrounding me, and I can hear myself breathing.

"I wasn't in front of you, Charlie."

* * * * *

The warmth of the fireplace is comforting. I shift my eyes to Romelo. He’s kneeling in front of me, wrapping my ankle.

“What are you thinking about?” I jump as his voice breaks the silence.

Romelo is a hard man to please. I feel that even if he was happy, he would still find a way to hurt me.

“Why do you hate me?” I whisper. He stops what he’s doing looking at me in confusion.

“What?” he asks.

“Why… do you hate me?” I ask again. I watch in fascination as his features morph from confusion to amusement. I don’t know how to respond, so I keep my mouth closed.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then… why do you do this? Why do you torture me?” I ask. He stands a little taller as if thinking about it.

“I hate women.”

He moves away from me and begins putting away the gauze.

“I don’t understand,” I say softly.

“I said, I hate women. What is it, that is encrypted in your systems to make you think others wont be affected by your actions? You are entitled, weak creatures that believe the world is yours,” he hisses.

"Romelo, where is this coming fro-" I'm cut off immediately.

"Where the fuck do you think you manipulative bitch!" he shouts. His gaze is filled with so much anger and resentment, towards me.

"When I look at you, I feel so much hate." He laughs, and the sound sends a chill down my spine.

"I fucking hate you Charlie." His words permeate the air, and I can feel tears burning my eyes. He stands over me with intimidation glaring down at me with malicious intent. He reaches out squeezing my chin.

"I want to fucking kill you," he growls.

I haven't heard those words since his mom kidnapped me.

"I want your existence removed from this world." He kneels so that he is eye level with me.

"You’re just another lying, female. How much worse off would we be without you."

"But I just can't do it." After what feels like forever his face finally cracks and he smiles, which morphs into a laugh.

"But don't think that makes you special." He turns away from me, not bothering to turn around.

"Come." His voice echoes throughout the room.

~

I’m alone in Romelo’s room, waiting for him to return. I look up when I hear his footsteps. He's walking in the room, with a box and an envelope. The box is beautifully wrapped, and the envelope is a large manila color with no information on it.

Romelo makes his way to me on the edge of the bed, and hands me the box silently. I stare at it with wide eyes. I don’t want another present from him. And after his confession in the living room, I highly doubt this is anything worth getting excited for.

I look at him in confusion and he's watching me with those cold blue eyes. He tilts his head towards the box, still not speaking. I look at the wrapping. It's purple. My favorite color. It’s still crazy to me, how after all these years, Romelo knew everything about me down to the smallest detail. Yet he claimed to hate me to the point of wanting me dead.

With shaky hands, I slowly remove the wrapping, to reveal the top of a box. I pull the top off and my eyes widen.

It’s a new collar. It looks nothing like a collar. It looks like a choker that would come out of the Elizabethan era. It’s beautiful. The design is much more intricate. I slowly lift it out of the box, and immediately turn it to look at the back, not fooled by the beauty. Sure enough, the back doesn't have a normal latch. There is a mechanical latch that only Romelo’s fingerprint would be able to unlock. I slowly lower it back into the box, and my vision blurs from the oncoming tears. I look up at Romelo.

"Thank you," I say in a broken whisper.

He still doesn't speak as he hands me the envelope. I open the top, pulling the thick papers out and my heart stops.

It’s my birth certificate. I'm looking at my birth certificate.

Charlie Elizabeth Hurn

Born: February 6, 1995 12:32 A.M.

Mother: Leanne Nicole Smith Hurn

Father: Scott Wexton Hurn

I don't know how long I stare at the certificate. I run my fingers over my mothers name, then my fathers. I can feel a small smile on my face. I vaguely take note that Romelo is silently sitting next to me. There is proof of my birth; of my existence, right in front of me.

I remove the certificate to look at the next piece of paper. It's an article about me. I see my smiling face, the headline reading:

Mayoral Candidates daughter kidnapped from campaign.

So that's where we were. That's what we were doing. Campaigning for my father when Romelo's mother snatched me right from under them. I turn the page and slowly read the article, stumbling over a few words. So my father was running for mayor. I then look to the next headline.

Search continues for Mayors missing daughter.

A small laugh escapes me. They were looking for me. They actually did care. From the looks of the caption, he made mayor too. I flip to the next page, feeling my heart clench.

"Mayors wife commits suicide."

"No," I squeak.

I run my fingers over the words, my eyes falling to her picture. She was beautiful. And she looked happy. At this moment, I hate myself for not remembering this woman. Now, I will never see her. I will never know her or be able to let her know that I am alive.

I look through the rest of the papers and articles, finding out more and more about my past, yet I have no idea why Romelo is showing this to me. I look up at him, and he's watching me with a serious expression.

He seems to be having an inner battle with himself. Whatever he decides, he doesn't like. He stands from the edge of the bed, and reaches in his back pocket pulling out a ring. My heart stops. My insides clench miserably and I feel as though a fire is burning me up.

He walks to the edge of the bed, sitting next to me, his eyes never wavering. I look up at him at a loss for words. Wasn't he just complaining about how much he hates me?

"Why?" I ask. He furrows his brow in irritation, and twists his head.

"Because I have a plan. And for it to work, I need you as my fiancé." I narrow my eyes at him slightly. Something is off about this.

"And if I refuse?" I say. His eyes flash and instead of anger, excitement appears across his features.

He pulls a little rectangular box out of his pocket, and smiling at me he presses it. An electric jolt rips through my body. I gasp and fall off the bed and onto the floor, writhing in agony. I open my mouth, letting a scream out.

"Please!" I scream. Just as sudden as it started, it stops. I try and calm my erratic breathing, but I can't. I look at Romelo in horror, feeling around my throat, but my collar isn't on. Where the hell did that come from?

Romelo squats in front of me, smiling, and I immediately scurry away from him. Or at least try to. My muscles refuse to work. They're still spasming in pain from the shock. Romelo reaches out pushing my hair out of my face. He holds the large diamond ring out in front of me.

"Now. Let's try this again."

~

As I lay in bed, the weight of the ring feels like a ton on my finger. Romelo is fast asleep, but his arms are squeezing my body tightly to his. I know Romelo. I know him better than anyone on this planet. This little "engagement" has nothing to do with love. It has nothing to do with possession or his sick obsession for me. No, it is part of a plan. And it has something to do with who I really am; who my parents are. He is planning something big. And I’m terrified to find out.

~