Hidden Obsession (The Club)

“Hey, Carmel, sorry I haven’t been in touch.” I wince, wondering why I didn’t find the time to call a month ago, or even a week ago.

“We were worried about you, Rave.”

“I’m fine, I just…” My voice trails off. I don’t want to burden Carmel with my problems, especially with her being so far away. As far as my family knows, gett

ing away from home has meant the end of my stalker.

“What is it? Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, just homesick I guess,” I fib.

“We’ll get up there and visit you soon, I promise.”

“That would be good.” I sniff. “How are the girls?”

“They’re good. They miss you.”

“I miss them too. I’ll try and call after school one day so I can speak to them.”

“They’ll like that, sweetie. They know you’re busy with college. How’s school?”

“It’s good. Hard, but good,” I laugh, pushing away my books. I stand up and walk over to the sofa and sink down into the cushions, setting my feet up on the coffee table.

“Well, don’t study too hard. Make sure you get out there and have some fun, okay?” she chastises gently.

I laugh and wipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks.

No sooner have I hung up the call than my phone rings again. I don’t recognize the number, which immediately puts me on edge. Taking I deep breath, I press answer.

“Hello?” I say carefully.

“Miss James? This is Paul Stojer, your building manager. I need to let you know there’s been a disturbance at your apartment.”

“Disturbance?” I repeat, my heart racing. What the hell does that mean?

“Yes, a neighbor noticed your door wide open and notified us. We’ve called the police, but you should get here as soon as you can so you can file a report.”

“Okay,” I mumble. My hands shake as I set down the phone. I was stupid to think this was all over. I text Conrad to let him know, asking him to meet me at my place. Grabbing my purse and my jacket, I switch off the lights and head outside, locking the door behind me.

Arriving back at my apartment holds mixed emotions for me. I’m nervous about seeing what the damage is this time. Is he angry I’m staying with Conrad? What if he directs his anger toward him next in an attempt to push him out of the picture?

The place is mess. There is stuff everywhere, and everything breakable has been broken: vases, photo frames, lamps. I shiver, thinking about the anger he had to have been feeling to do this. I walk over next to the sofa, where a smashed photo of me with my parents has been discarded. I crouch down to examine the damage. It’s one of the few things I brought with me to remind me of my family.

“Don’t touch anything.”

I glance up and see Conrad standing in the doorway, a grave expression on his face.

He looks around and shakes his head, a look of disbelief in his eyes. “Wow, someone really did a number on this place,” he mutters.

“Someone?” I laugh. “Come on. I think we all know who’s responsible.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, but he looks hesitant.

I stand up, my arms crossed over my chest, and wait for him to continue.

“It’s just this is a pretty big jump from his usual M.O. He’s never acted violent toward you in the past. There’s a lot of anger here if it was personal.”

“What would you call him masturbating on my bed?” I laugh. I can’t believe he’s saying this. It’s almost like he’s standing up for the psycho who’s trying to ruin my life.