Endless Obsession

“Poppy, you need to get used to the idea of being mine. There’s no stopping what’s going to happen. Once everything is out, and I’ve made you mine, there’s no going back. It will happen. You will marry me. You will carry my children. We will grow old together. There’s no alternative for me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine and a small bout of fear slithers in. He seems so sure, but how can he be? There’s no way he can know. Have I totally misjudged Sterling and he is, in fact, dangerous? What happens if I find that I can’t be with him once he reveals himself? Will he let me go, or will he go to any lengths to keep me? Does that include keeping me against my will or hurting me? There’s all kinds of stories out there where the man becomes obsessed with someone so much that they hurt them, think that if they can’t have them, no one can. Does Sterling feel that way about me?

I don’t want to believe that. But it could just be me being naive with my desperate need to belong to and be wanted by someone.

I don’t know what to say to him, or how to react to his words. I want to belong to someone so fiercely that they would do anything for me, but not to the point of hurting me, or keeping me against my will.

As my mind runs rampant with several different ways this could pan out, my eyes get caught by my dresser. The top drawer is pulled out slightly with a piece of silky material hanging out over the edge. I always close my drawers, especially my top drawer because it holds my bras and panties. The last thing I want is my panties sticking out for anyone to see if they pass by my bedroom. I didn’t notice if it was open this morning because I always pull clothes out the night before for the next day. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a kid.

Sterling says something in my ear, but I’m completely focused on that drawer. With a frown, I walk to my dresser. Did Sterling go through my things last night before he left? And if he did, why? Does he have some type of panty fetish?

I lift my hand, surprised that it’s unsteady, and pull the drawer out the rest of the way. It’s a mess inside. I always keep my panties and bras separated and folded nicely and in stacks of silk and lace. It’s all a jumbled mess. It looks like someone was rifling around in my stuff.

“Poppy,” Sterling snaps loudly in my ear, reminding me he’s still on the phone. I jump slightly with his raised tone.

“Did you go through my dresser before you left last night?” I ask.

“No, why? What in the hell is going on?” he demands.

I probably shouldn’t, but I believe him. Therefore, I give him an answer.

“It looks like someone went through my underwear drawer. I always close it, but it was open and everything is misplaced.”

“Are you sure you closed it? Maybe you were in a rush and forgot,” he suggests.

“Maybe.”

I look through the contents to try to see if anything is missing. I flick through everything and notice my favorite lavender pair of panties are gone. The matching bra is still there, but not the panties. I try to think back to the last time I wore them. They could be in the dirty clothes; I wore them just three days ago. I thought I had washed them yesterday, but I could be wrong.

“I guess I could have left it open. But I always make sure to close the drawer. I have to be wrong, right?”

I wait for Sterling to reassure me. There’s no other explanation. Why would someone come into my house, go through my panty drawer, and steal a pair? Do people really do that? And if so, who and why? I must have forgotten to close it. My mind was still occupied with Sterling, so it’s definitely possible.

“I’m sure you just forgot. Look, I’ve got to go. I still have to pack. I’ll call you tonight.”

Okaaay. His abrupt change in attitude has me confused, his tone almost angry.

Before he has a chance to hang up, I call his name.

“Sterling?”

“Yes, Beautiful?”

That’s better. The soft note is back. I don’t like him sounding angry. I know I shouldn’t care anymore and should nip whatever is happening between us in the bud, especially after what he revealed a few minutes ago, but I do care. It’s not something I can simply turn off.

“You owe me a letter.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “K. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Have a safe trip, Sterling.”

“I will, Beautiful.”

I pull the phone from my ear after we hang up, feeling weird about our conversation. We go from talking about Asher, to his family and my impending meeting with them, to his possessive and assuredness that I’ll want to be with him, to him being angry. All in the span of ten minutes.

I spend the next several minutes pulling everything out of the drawer and taking them to the washer, still feeling certain I wouldn’t have left it in its current state, let alone left the drawer ajar, but I must have, right? Even so, I decide to wash them anyway. They just feel dirty to me now.

I push the thought away and think about the letter Sterling gave me. I now have five letters to work with. AESRK. Still too many possibilities out there. I want to kick myself for not finding out who he was last night when I had the chance. I stood there and just watched him, instead of making my feet move to his car. I know deep down he wouldn’t have stopped me. I could have easily opened his car door and the mystery would have been solved.