OBSESSED

59

"Are you tired still?" I asked. "It's pretty early."

She nodded.

I rounded the bar and offered my hand to her. Without as much reluctance this time, she slid her palm into mine and let me help her off the stool.

We walked down the hall towards the bedroom. She paused to look at the framed photographs on the walls.

"James used to like photography," I told her, "as you my have guessed from that little album."

Leah's head snapped back to me. She studied my face cautiously and I would've killed to know what was going on in her mind.

"I burned it, by the way," I said.

"Why?"

"Well . . . because I knew it upset you."

Her nose wrinkled. "I thought it belonged to James?"

"It did. He convinced me that he really didn't want anything to do with those pictures."

She nodded and started down the hall again. I let her gently tug me along.

She was handling things better than I'd expected. So far, at least.

Once we were in the bedroom, Leah crawled onto the bed and snuggled down into the sheets.

Her focus was fixed on me while I tucked the bedding into the crevice around her round little body. I climbed in beside her. Her eyes fluttered shut and she released a little sigh.

My eyes traced the streaks of makeup and dried tears carved into her soft cheeks. I hated seeing her cry. It gutted me every time.

I decided that when we got up again shortly, we would shower. Maybe the hot water would relax her enough to fully relinquish her fears. I just wanted her to enjoy this.

A moan of protest leaked from her lips. I wrapped my arms around her, spooning her side. Peace washed over me like a whiff of fresh air.

Things had returned to how they were supposed to be.

She belonged here with me. 

Some while later, the bed dipped under her shifting figure. She slowly turned in my arms and lay on her back. Her breath puffed out in a sigh.

I breathed it in to steady the rising quell in my chest.

Part of me was still nearly asleep but the other part, the part on high alert, continued to pay attention.

A few more minutes passed and then she shifted again. This time she moved even slower towards the edge of the bed.

If I was completely asleep, I wouldn't have even noticed.

Ever so gradually, she worked her body off the bed until she was on her feet. The heat from her eyes lashed at my closed eyelids.

Then she tiptoed to the bedroom door, easing it open, and slid out.

I was annoyed.

Impressed with her sneakiness, but annoyed.

Although I wanted to believe she was only getting a glass of water, I was not so naive.

I slid out of bed and followed after her.

She must have heard me because she abandoned all caution and sprinted through the cabin.

Dammit. Why can't she just trust me?

Sighing, I grabbed a syringe from the dresser drawer and filled it with the bottle of Xyrem.

I tucked it into my pocket before jogging out of the bedroom after her.

Leah threw open the front door and scrambled out onto the porch.

I reached her before her bare feet could descend the porch stairs and seized her by the waist.

She belted out a scream, her whole being pouring into that shriek of horror. I hugged her into my chest.

"Shhh, Leah," I said in a placating tone.

I kissed her temple and squeezed against her to subdue the thrashing.

"It's okay, baby," I told her. "It's alright."

"Let me go!" she screamed. "Jarrod, let me go!"

"Leah, there's nowhere for you to go. There's no one to hear you. I'm not going to hurt you."

Her screams wilted into sobs again. When I moved to scoop her up, she began thrashing and screaming again.

"Leah, stop," I ordered calmly. I didn't want to prick her. "Stop fighting me. Leah."

"No! No!" she cried. Her eyes flashed with fear.

I clenched my jaw. "I don't want to do this," I hissed.

Pulling out the syringe from my pocket, I bit the cap off and spit it out. I then jammed the needle into her leg. She uttered a final cry before slumping into my arms. I swallowed guiltily as I held her limp body against me.

"You made me," I whispered. "You made me do this, Leah."

I took a minute to compose myself. Once the guilt receded, I slid my arms under her knees and arms and then carried her back inside, kicking the door shut behind me.

I carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Though I wanted to restrain her and punish her for being disobedient, I felt how damp her clothes were. I stripped them off her body and discarded them on the floor. Recent memories reminded me of when she came home drunk and I had stripped her down too. She's a mess. I caressed her cheek before heading to the bathroom to draw a bath. Considering she was going to be especially mistrustful of me now, I knew I had to bathe her now while I had the chance. No romantic gestures.

Once the tub filled with hot water, I went back to bedroom and collected her into my arms. She curled into my chest with a soft snore. I smiled to myself as I carried her to the bathroom and slipped her into the tub, careful to keep her face above the water. Then I pulled a bottle of body wash from a rack and began massaging it into her skin. Her head rolled around as I did so, looking eerily lifeless. I gritted my teeth. I hurried through the bath after that, washing out her hair and then drying her down. Once she was clean, I dressed her in one of my largest shirts so she would be comfortable and tucked her back into bed. This time I grabbed the rope I'd brought and tied her hands to the bed frame but low enough that her blood could still circulate.

I spent the next few minutes watching her. How was I going to fix this? She was never going to trust me. We had been making what I thought was progress until she pulled that little stunt. Fortunately for me, James was a fucking recluse who didn't like neighbors. He needed isolation for all the kinky shit he did to Marissa.

Raking my hands through my hair, I blew out a terse sigh. Maybe there was hope for me, for us. After all, Leah was nothing like Tiffany. She only ran because she was scared—not because she's a backstabbing bitch. Even asleep, she curled into me and felt safe. We could do this. I just needed to make her see things from my perspective.