Page 58 of Framed Obsession

Ten minutes later, I return to his living area, catching him deep in thought. I pause, taking him in. There's a little crinkle etched between his bushy eyebrows. The pen taps against his perfect, full lips.

He looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine. Words can’t describe the way I feel when he looks at me. It’s like he sees the inner Dahlia too. It takes my breath away every time.

“I’m done.” He says softly. Giving me a sheepish smile that caves a dimple that I want to burrow in. I sit next to him on the couch and take the letter. He folded it in half, shielding it from everyone but him.

“Is it okay if I read it? I won’t if you're not comfortable. Regardless, we will burn the letter. Leaving behind who you once were, and how you felt, to pave way for a new beginning,” I explain. I want him to know my intentions regarding this exercise. The purpose behind it.

“Fuck. What are you doing to me angel? You can read it. I promised I would give you my all, didn't I?”

The words leave his lips as if they were hoping to never see the light of day. I know letters like these come from a place of protection. Words that never came out, now revealing oneself wholly. My heart pounds as I unfold the paper.

To: Dear Mom,

You wrecked me and walked away like it was normal. As if love is supposed to leave bruises. You made glimmers of normalcy feel like Christmas morning, though I only knew what that felt like through others. I don’t need to hold hope anymore. Hope that you would've been the mother you were supposed to be. The mother that is supposed to love me unconditionally and unapologetically. Sometimes I feel like I burdened you when I was born. I survived every night I swore that would be the end. And no, I’m not going to apologize for existing. I want you to feel that I survived you. Survived things you shouldn’t have done in the first place. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. And if this makes me a monster then I’ll bare those claws. I would rather be a monster in this world full of beasts. No child deserves to sit in their bedroom wondering what it’s like to die. Like if I just ended it all, then I wouldn't have to feel anymore. I wouldn't have to remember anymore. Every birthday I would wish for something that I couldn’t tell anyone. All I can say is, I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wished for. You and I both never asked for me to be brought into this world. I just wish you never acted like you didn’t. I hope you're turning in your grave. I hope that your purgatory is watching my life as I live it. Knowing that I took yours away. The life I have may not be what I planned. Battling with demons every single day in my mind, and me being the only one who gets exhausted, while they can torment for eternity, is consuming. I will beat this, and I want you to know that. I will beat you.

And just like that, my heart shatters into a million pieces. My words stumbling with heartbreak at each word as I read the letter out loud. I look over at him, tears spilling from both of our souls. They never expect me to read the letters out loud, but it makes it all the more real. He needs to hear his own words. Did I get through to him? I really hope that I did.

Epilogue

RUNRUNRUN - Dutchmelrose

You run, and I’ll come find you, Little Flower. I sign my name at the bottom of the letter. I place a picture of her sleeping next to it, tucking it on my nightstand for her to see.

I promised I would take her out to a late dinner, but I have something else on mind that I know my depraved girl would enjoy. She’s been sleeping over every night; I asked her to just move in and she jumped at the chance.

The Z’s, Zoe and Zane are so far up each other’s asses, Dahlia was basically at the apartment alone. Seeing as my Little Flower and Zoe don’t have a place of employment now, it worked out for the best that Zane and I took them in.

I had to keep reassuring my girl that she didn’t need to work if she lived with me, but she is as stubborn as a doornail. So we’ve been looking, but no luck yet.

The mysterious disappearance of Parker Raines has been the talk of the city still. No leads on what happened, which makes me happy knowing Zane and I covered our tracks well. I guess we will never know what actually happened. Well, everyone else won’t ever know that is.

Dahlia has been having nightmares almost every night. The constant war she’s having with herself from that night is taking a toll on her psyche. She clings to me like I’m the only one who can help her.

Kind of ironic, isn't it?

She's fucked up like I am now. Am I sorry I did this to her? No. She is everything I’ve wanted. She’s everything I’ve needed. Like air. Without her, I don’t think I can live. Without her, there is no life worth living. Before her, I was lost. She is my life now. I didn’t know what my purpose was until I saw her. I knew she would be the missing puzzle piece to my fucked up life.

The last patch to fix this hollow hole. She can’t take the piece back. I won’t allow it. I wanted her to need me like I needed her. Even if that meant breaking her mind apart.

Ever since the letter, my flashbacks have been manageable. Who would’ve known something as simple as a letter to a piece of shit ghost from my past would work?

Dahlia wasn't fazed by my confession to killing my parents. She didn't care as much about it. Only about how I felt and what came next, being only thirteen years old.

Good old foster homes were next. No one wanted me though. They said, “You could see the crazy in his eyes.” When in reality, it was the brokenness. Families only wanted the shiny kids. They didn’t have to say it, I felt it. Nothing I wasn’t fucking used to, anyway.

I slip my mask over my face and head toward the backwoods. Living away from the city, I have Mother Nature in my backyard. The plan I'm conjuring in my mind has me getting stiff.

I tug downward on my zipper, giving my half-stiffened cock a little breathing room. Branches break under my footsteps as I make my way deeper into the woods with purpose.

Chapter 42

The back door flies open. The moonlight of the dusk night hitting her pale skin. She stands there, angelic. Like ‌the night saved its highlight just for her.

She walks slowly down the steps, hesitancy written all over her features. When she reaches the last step, I pull my phone out and write her a message.

Your Stalker

You haunt me. It’s only fair that I return the sentiment. So run, Little Flower. Run so I can catch you and show you how much you belong to me.