Page 54 of Framed Obsession

“I’ll be down there for quite some time, so, uh, relax if you can,” I say with unsureness. This is the first time I’ve done something like this. Drawing a bath for someone else? Do I feel sorry for her? I’ll be sure to check in on her later.

“Okay,” she responds quietly. She gets into the steam-filled tub. Water waves around, and little splashes leave the edge. She gives me an apologetic smile before hunching in further. I find myself still staring, admiring her beauty.

Her white hair turns a shade darker, creating more contrast against her pale complexion. Little beads of water coat her skin as if they have been placed intricately. Her eyes close shut as she rests her head back.

Am I in love with my therapist? I’m unsure of what love even is. I know I am infatuated with her. That she consumes my every thought. That even though I want to leave bite marks all over her skin, claiming her, I wouldn't want her to ever leave me. She is my sanity. I can’t exist without her.

I turn and exit the bathroom before I send my thoughts into battle. I need to hurry. I’m sure someone will come looking for him sooner or later. I have a whole to-do list that I gotta mark off before I can put this all behind us. At least behind me.

Chapter 38

The Flower

Pretty Poison - Nessa Barrett

The biggest exhale leaves the depths of my lungs, my chest sinking inwards. A part of me is disappointed that he left me alone. Another is thankful because I am forced to face what I’ve just done. There is no pushing it away for me. I always tell my clients how important it is to process your feelings. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t do the same thing.

I don’t know what came over me. I can’t believe I just killed a man. Just like that. Like ‌his life wasn’t worth seeing another day. Who am I to do that? I’m not supposed to have that choice. The way the blade slipped into his chest with ease. I thought it would've been harder. More brutal to stab someone.

Regardless, the decision has been made. There is no going back. Do I turn myself in? I don’t recognize the person I am becoming. Ever since I met Axel, there has been this gravitational pull between us. It’s almost like I couldn't fight it. Not that I tried so hard to.

Having conflicting feelings about a client, now committing felonies and murder with him, what do I even do now? I know that I have to terminate him as a client. Well, I don’t even think that matters anymore because we just killed the owner.

Fuck.

I slump into the hot water until it reaches my chin. This bath is big enough for two people, and it makes me wish Axel was in here with me. I lather myself with body wash and a loofah that were left in the corner ledge.

I watch as the white suds cover the little red bloodied spots on my arms. I rinse them off and scrub again. My breath quickens and I keep repeating until my arms are rubbed red and raw. I move to my legs and my neck, washing every inch of my body with fear.

Tears escape me, and I begin to sob. It’s just me and the loudness of my guilt. I–I can’t do this. I can’t be taking a relaxing bath while there is a dead body just below me. And the man who accompanied me is doing god knows what to him right now.

I quickly stand. Water spills from around me as I vacate the tub. My legs move without permission. Everything around me is a blur besides one thing I’m gravitating towards. I slip on the wet tile, a loud thump of my knees hitting the hard floor. Pain doesn’t register; I just keep moving.

My breaths are unsteady, and so are my steps. I cling to the walls as I get closer to the basement door. A slight ringing in my ears keeps steady pace as I fling the door open.

“Axel?” I shout. My body stumbles down the stairs. I can hear what sounds like buzzing all around. When I reach the bottom, all I can do is run toward him. I latch onto him, grasping at his shirt from the back. He whips his head around with a disturbed yet concerned expression.

“What are you doing down here? You shouldn’t be down here,” he says, turning and shielding his body in front of me. He doesn’t remove my hands from him. He lets me hold on. I tug at him with short breaths.

“I–I don't want to be alone right now–” My eyes widen in terror as I comprehend the horrors in front of me. There are bags and body parts everywhere. I step backward, feeling warm liquid at the base of my foot. I look down and see blood. There's blood everywhere.

“Hey, hey, you’ll be okay. I didn’t want you to see any of this,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and grasping them.

“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” I say. Vomit escapes me before I’m able to hold it in. I hunch over and grab my stomach. My hair is being pulled away from my face as I continue to puke. I’m not sure why I even came down here. What was I going to expect? That he would bury him in a field of daisies?

I vomit until everything has left my system. Reality sets in and hits me like a truck. I’m going to prison. That's it, my life is over. Everything I worked so hard for has all been for nothing. I’m the worst person in the world.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean that up too,” Axel says, nonchalantly. I give him an “are you serious?” look. How can he be joking at a time like this? Oh, that's right. He probably has no awareness of the seriousness of this. He is probably dissociating. So that means I have to face this whole thing on my own.

“Sorry. I don’t really know what to do right now. Do you want to stay down here with me, or do you want me to take you back upstairs?” he asks, taking off the fresh T-shirt he just put on and places it over me. Talk about déjà vu, I hadn't realized I ran down here naked.

I guess I hadn't thought about how I’m making him feel right now. Wait, no. I’m the one who is having a panic attack right now.

“I don’t know what I need. I’ve never been in this position before,” I respond.

“I’m almost done. How about you sit back on top of the freezer and close your eyes until I’m finished? I just gotta bag–”

“Nope. I don’t want to hear anything,” I cut him off and plug my ears with my fingers. I walk over to the chest freezer and hop onto it. I close my eyes, still keeping my fingers in place, shielding any noise that might traumatize me for the rest of my life.