OBSESSED

64

LEAH

Coming to consciousness and immediately sensing that my hands were bound was not a fun feeling.

Like last time, it took a minute for the disorientation to wear off from the drugs.

Once I could see and think clearly, fear came reeling into my body. My eyes filled with tears. Jarrod was a monster.

He was a murderer. I had sex with a murderer.

Now more than ever I believed I had to escape, but now I knew what I would have to do. There was no more feeling bad for calling the police.

They would be the first people I contacted when I escaped.

While I was still alone, I tested the zip ties and studied the room. Everything was fucking locked.

The only way I could even have a chance was if I knocked Jarrod unconscious. That would buy me enough time to at least break a window or find his keys.

But how the hell did I knock him unconscious? More tears bubbled to the surface. No. You will not be scared. Fear isn't going to help you out. I took a deep breath and tried to get a handle on my nerves. Think, damn it. Think.

I couldn't escape now, in the situation I was, so I would have to wait. I'd have to go back to the beginning and earn his trust. No more sex. I never wanted him to touch me again. Those hands had done terrible, unthinkable things. I hated every second he'd ever used them to pleasure me, to lure me into this trap.

My only hope was that he truly did care about me. That would be my ticket out of this.

Resigned to reality, I unhinged my jaw and called for Jarrod. His footsteps sounds through the house. The door swung open just seconds later.

"Good morning," he said, hesitating in the doorway. I could tell he was measuring me up to see see if I'd freak out again. Once he'd decided I was okay, he came to the bed.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I said with as blank of a face as I could manage.

He sat beside me and reached over to brush the hair from my face. My insides squirmed with abhorrence but I stayed still.

"What are you sorry for?" he said.

Fuck. What was I sorry for? Absolutely nothing. What should I pretend to be sorry for?

Gritting my teeth, I told him: "For trying to get away."

"Mmm. It's okay, baby." He touched my bare leg where his shirt didn't reach and gently squeezed. Nausea bucked up my throat. "It's not easy information to hear," he continued. "I just wanted you to know and understand the lengths I will go to protect you. I would never hurt you, Leah. You need to understand that."

My throat tightened in slight panic before I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. Keep your shit together. Opening them, I looked into his depthless dark orbs. They looked so sharp now, so critical. I'd never noticed this hardness in them before.

"Do you still love me?" he asked.

The air in my lungs felt suspended as I internalized his words. Had I ever loved him? We got so deep so fast. My feelings for him had been explosive and consuming. Then again, he had deceived me. I didn't know how dark he was or just how attached to me he was.

How could I love someone who had killed another? Not out of self-defense. Not even for a decent but still morally wrong excuse. He killed Anne because she beat me up. Everything Jarrod did was a front. A nice, pretty facade to disguise the load of batshit crazy in his brain. The fact that he could dispense someone without any remorse told me that he didn't deserve to have a fucking medical license.