Obsessive Addiction

by KL Donn

  “Scared of you?” She laughs without humor. “You took down the man who spent years abusing me.” Her voice catches, and I look over, only to be greeted with tears in her eyes. “I just wish you’d taken the demons as well.” Me, too.

  I don’t have much else to say after that. When I pull up in front of Farren’s house, I let her run inside, knowing she needs to adjust to the fact that I’m back. She’s so flustered, she likely doesn’t notice that I pull into the driveway next door.

  I can see my brothers’ cars are both here, and that shocks me a bit. They’ve distanced themselves from me over the years, and while at first, I had been pissed, I understood. They both have prominent businesses to run and having a criminal—a killer—for a brother wouldn’t help with that.

  Being alone in prison hardened me in some ways. Made me colder. I’ve always been the bad boy out of my brothers, not giving a shit about society the way they do. Our father had trouble reining me in when he was alive, too. I don’t think he minded that I was a free-thinker as much as he tried to give me shit for it, though.

  Cashton Malcolm made his fortune by being colder than the other guy, and I know I got that personality trait from him. Our mother passed when I was barely a teenager after a drunk driver hit her car on her way home from a charity event.

  For most families, that loss would have broken them. Fifteen years later and it’s pushed us to be more driven. More passionate. It’s helped to focus our ambition. Appreciate the things we’ve had in life.

  Until recently, I’d never had any of those things. Despite the heckling I know I’ll get from Crew and Cross, Farren is all of those things for me. I’ll give her anything she wants, just as long as I get her. She’ll be my entire world, and there isn’t a fucking thing I’d change about that.

  “Look who’s finally home!” From the sofa in the den, Crew holds up a beer as I walk through the front doors. The great thing about this monstrous house is that my parents didn’t like closed-in rooms, so while there might be walls separating the spaces, there aren’t a lot of doors.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I hide my relief that they’re here now, even though they weren’t then.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Cross stands from behind our dad’s old desk, cowboy hat firmly in place. I’m almost surprised he doesn’t have chaps and spurs on or something.

  “I had shit to do.” I shrug and walk past them into the kitchen. The wide double doors leading off to the porch showcase an incredible view of the property behind the house. It’s the reason our parents built here instead of in some upscale, richie-rich neighborhood.

  The small creek running into the woods is visible now only because Dad had the fence torn down ten years ago after he was confident my brothers and I wouldn’t try drowning ourselves or each other in it.

  The sound filtering through the house has always been relaxing for me when I’ve felt turmoil building in my soul. Opening the doors, I close my eyes and savor the natural ambiance I’ve missed for three years.

  “You okay, Crux?” I can feel them standing on either side of me, but I ignore them and enjoy this one frivolity for just a second before reality comes racing forth.

  “Yeah,” I respond honestly. “Better than I have been in a lot of years.” Being near Farren, letting her know who I am, and her acceptance of the man I’ve become because of her, even if she doesn’t know it, has eased a sense of torment within me.

  “You have that look in your eyes, bro,” Cross observes steadily.

  “What look?” They’ve said it my whole life. Crux, you have that look, man. Crux, it’s back. Crux, don’t do it.

  “The obsessive one. The one that screams you’re about to do something.” Crew half laughs, but I see the worry in his gaze. “It’s worse than that time Jake Myers stole your girl in eleventh grade. You were a dog with a bone until you humiliated him in front of the whole school. Hell, you didn’t even like the girl anymore.”

  “Or worse,” Cross snorts, “remember when we wouldn’t let him in that treehouse, so he cut the fucking tree down? With us in it!” They’re both howling with laughter, now. I could have killed them.

  I’m fucking determined. Sue me. “It was a cheap piece of shit, anyways.” I only took the tree out to spite the assholes.

  “Yeah, maybe, but what about Warner? You were out of your mind with him. Is she why?” Crew sobers up before our middle brother, and I wonder how long he’s been dying to ask me that.

  “How long you been sitting on that one, bro?” I turn my back on them, so they don’t see how accurate their assessment is.

  “The day you were arrested.”

  Placing my hands on the island countertop, I close my eyes as my head hangs, and I breathe deeply. I can’t deny him. I’ve known they were holding back, I’ve known there would be questions when I came home.

  I just wasn’t ready for them this quickly.

  “He touched her.” I finally confess. They only know who Farren is because Warner’s sins came to light during the trial. I never admitted guilt because I don’t believe I’m guilty. The man deserved everything I gave him and more.

  “How did you even know?” Crew asks from my side. I can feel the heat of his stance beside me, mimicking my position.

  Turning my head, I meet his stare. “You weren’t here when she moved in. You were both gone. I don’t know what the fuck it was about her then, but I kept an eye on her. Something in her called to me, even then.”

  “You weren’t, like, attracted to her, were you?” Cross asks, and I can tell he doesn’t want to know if I really was.

  “Not then, no. I was protective. And Farren needed someone to be. I heard the rumors from the older kids at the high school. That she was a loner. They called her a freak. A few bloody noses shut them the fuck up.”

  “Dude, you beat up high school kids?” I glare at Cross’ laughter, and he shuts it down.

  “I stood up for a girl not strong enough to stand up for herself.” My words are harsh. “For years, I watched as she drew into herself. Became more closed off. When I’d come home from college, she was always hanging around, coming outside. She used to wave at me.” Drawing in a deep breath, I recall the last time she did. Dressed in clothes too hot for the summer heat, Farren’s thirteen-year-old body was slouched over on the step. Her wave had been tentative at best and all but disappeared when Warner came home from work.

  A dark snarl had appeared on his face before he masked it and tried to talk to me. I ignored him and continued unloading my shit from my car. I wish I’d done something at that point. I could have saved her a year of agony.

  “I saw him one night. He walked into her room. Touched her like he had every right to be there. Like she was his.” I slam my fist on the granite and watch as the salt shaker topples over and rolls off onto the floor. Glass shatters, and I couldn’t care fucking less. “She wasn’t his,” I snap, turning to face my brothers. “Farren Hallewell has always been mine.”

  I storm out of the room, leaving Cross and Crew speechless. They know how old she is. Even though she’s above the age of consent, I won’t touch her. Not yet. But it won’t stop me from becoming more addicted.

  Farren

  “Mom?” I call quietly. I don’t want her to be home. Since Jeffrey’s death, she’s been somewhat of a slut.

  Okay, not somewhat. A complete slut.

  My mother’s a whore.

  She has sex for money and brings strange men home.

  After everything that happened, I’d seen a shrink for years. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like her. She seemed very judgmental. But I went because my mother never listened to the woman when she told Leslie not to bring men around, and I needed a place to vent.

  It was the only good piece of advice the woman had; however, it seemed to spur my mother on, and soon enough, more men appeared. Pretty dresses and expensive jewelry started to follow, and I knew she was selling herself.

  I spend more and more time locked in my room. I barrica
de the door with a heavy dresser that I can barely move. Some days, it’s so hard that I climb in and out of my bedroom window to go to school.

  My father left before I was old enough to remember him, and ever since, it seems like my mother makes one bad decision after another. The problem is, I’m the victim to each and every one of them.

  There are times when the men she brings home try to come to me when they’re done with her, and more often than not, I’ve frozen in place. Unable to respond because Warner has had me conditioned to a life of molestation.

  I hate him.

  Sometimes I hate my mom, too.

  I don’t trust men because of what’s happened to me over the many years.

  Which makes me think of the one man who has protected me at great cost to himself. I don’t know for sure that he knows what happened. But I suspect he’s the one that leaked the story about Jeffrey when he was on trial.

  The day we were told Jeffrey was dead, I cried for days. Everyone thought it was because I was heartbroken and sad that the man who was supposed to care for me was dead. They couldn’t have been more wrong. I cried nothing but happy tears because he could never touch me again.

  Crux Malcolm saved my life. I owe him everything. He might be nearly eight years older than I am, but I’ve always felt a bond with him.

  From the time I saw him when we first moved into the neighborhood, to the summer before my life changed forever. He became a beacon of hope I had always been missing.

  Now, I’m older. A little more mature. And I feel things for him I hadn’t believed I would experience in my life. When he told me that he had come to school straight from prison, my heart skipped a beat or two. I’ve never had anyone be that attentive towards me before. Let alone protect me the way he has.

  Walking up the stairs to my room, I place my fingers at the spot on my neck where Ben had touched, and Crux had evaporated. I smile, remembering the way he’d held me so close, so lovingly.

  Noises from my mother’s room have my feet hustling just as her door opens and two men walk out with their shirts off.

  “Would you look at that,” the dark-haired one says, “round two.”

  Whimpering, I scamper off to my room, slamming the door shut and twisting the small lock. Their laughter can be heard as my tears flow while I push the dresser in front of the door.

  Tossing myself onto my bed, I have to wonder if things will ever change, or if I’m destined always to be the victim.

  “Come, my little fairy, Daddy will take care of you.” The way his hand slides up my leg makes me want to vomit. I hate this. I hate him. I hate my mom.

  “Please, don’t.” I turn my head to the side, detesting the stupid mirrors on both walls of my room. I abhor this house. My hell.

  “That’s right, darling, watch Daddy have his fun.” The cheap beer on his breath can’t mask the arousal in his voice. My eyes slam shut when he spreads my legs wide. I can’t watch. I can’t breathe.

  I can’t…

  I can’t…

  I can’t…

  “Open your fucking eyes, Farren.” He likes when I watch. He enjoys my anguish and forces me to look every single time. He won’t finish until I do.

  My head shakes from side to side. “Don’t do this.” I cry harder. My chest constricts so tightly, I fear I’ll pass out from lack of oxygen.

  Licking between my naked breasts, he hisses, “You enjoy it. Just like your momma, you play hard to get.” Except, I’m not. I don’t want to be got.

  My body vibrates with the disgust rolling through me, and I cry harder when I feel Jeffrey splash on my stomach and begin rubbing it in.

  I want to die.

  Crux

  “What in the fuck?” I’m sitting in the fucking tree outside her room in the middle of the night because my brothers were right. I have that fucking look in my eye. I have the obsession. I won’t apologize for it either.

  Music blares from a room down the hall from Farren’s, and I’m pissed that her mother can’t hear her cries of pain.

  Jumping from the tree and onto the small balcony outside Farren’s room, it doesn’t take much to jimmy the lock open and climb through her window. The first thing I notice is the massive dresser in front of her door, and my anger spikes to an inferno.

  Her quiet pleas for mercy stop me in my tracks from hunting down the danger, and instead, I climb into her bed. Pulling her body into mine, I wrap myself around her shivering frame and whisper in her ear.

  “I’ve got you, pretty bird. Ain’t no one going to hurt you.” I brush the hair back from her face. Sweat has it plastered to her skin.

  “I don’t want to anymore.” I know she’s still sleeping, so she’s not talking to me, and I wish I could kill Warner all over again. She obviously begged and cried for him to stop, and he wouldn’t.

  “I killed him, Farren. He’s dead,” I murmur, burying my face in her neck, kissing her lightly.

  “Crux?” Her soft voice makes me smile.

  “I’m here, bird. I’ll always be here,” I soothe.

  “You saved me,” she whispers sleepily, and I feel her body collapse in relief, and hopefully, safety.

  I need to get this girl figured out. She can’t fucking be here when Leslie doesn’t give two shits about her. I need her with me. I need her safe.

  I always knew I was addicted. For years, I fucking knew.

  Now, I recognize I’ve become obsessed. The thought of her not being in my embrace guts me in a way I can’t explain. My life is hers. I’ll do anything for her. Even if it’s not what she wants.

  Chapter Three

  farren

  Nightmares have plagued me for years. Sleep doesn’t come easy because of them. Last night, I remembered that nightmare. The abject fear and shame that always comes with them. But there was something else, too. There was a sense of safety and belonging I’ve longed for. Whispered promises eased the terror that follows me into unconsciousness after an episode.

  For once, I’m waking up feeling not completely rested but at least like I didn’t spend the night crying and rolling around in my sleep.

  The breeze from the open window and a dark shirt hanging on the sill that isn’t mine alert me to what I was already suspecting.

  Crux had been here.

  He soothed me when I was in turmoil.

  Held me through the torture of a crystal-clear memory I wish I could banish.

  Striding towards the window, I pick the shirt up and hug it to my chest. Burying my face in the fabric, I inhale deeply. Eyes closed, I absorb the scent surrounding Crux and embrace the safety it brings me.

  I’ve spent years pushing my emotions to the back of my mind because, otherwise, I’d go crazy. If I let myself feel the life around me, I’d drown. With Crux, I can’t seem to do it. I’m not even sure I want to either. I’m always quick to be overwhelmed, and for once, I don’t think it will be a bad thing.

  Looking to the sky, I see it’s going to be a rain-filled day and dress in wool leggings, Crux’s shirt, and a baggy sweater. Pushing the damn dresser to the side seems like a herculean effort, but I manage to do it quietly.

  Tiptoeing down the stairs, I hear my mother in the kitchen and know I have to face her. If she had been sleeping, I could have slipped into my ankle boots and ran out the door.

  “Fairy, is that you?” I cringe at her use of the nickname everyone thinks they can call me.

  Picking up my backpack, I sling it over my shoulder, so she thinks I’m running late. “Morning, Mom.”

  “Were you leaving? Already?” She looks confused as she turns to face me, her robe hanging open, so I see basically everything. Mom has very little modesty.

  Going to the fridge to avoid her, I grab a bottle of water and an apple. “Yeah, I have to finish an interview for the paper.” It’s not a total lie. I have to dumb it down for Kalista, or I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “Oh.” She actually sounds disappointed.

  “Did you need something?” Manner
s force me to ask.

  She’s quiet a moment before answering me. “It’s just we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

  “You’ve had…dates.”

  Startled eyes meet mine like she thought I didn’t know. “Right. Well, someone has to pay the bills.” Her defenses rise, and I don’t know if it’s because she now knows that I know—not like she was hiding it—or because she’s the reason we don’t see much of each other and doesn’t like the bitter truth.

  “I’ve gotta go, Mom.” I leave before she can say anything else.

  My mother has always been flighty. A dreamer. I’m not sure what she was thinking when she had me. She can barely take care of herself.

  Walking out the door, a downpour of rain assaults me, and I debate going back inside to find an umbrella for the walk to the bus stop two blocks away.

  Our awkward encounter discourages me from going back. I pull up the hood on my sweater, duck my head, and jog along the sidewalk to the bus shelter. I have a twenty-minute wait before it arrives, but I prefer to be out here than at home for more mother-daughter bonding.

  The rumble of an engine alerts me to traffic that normally isn’t around the neighborhood. At least nothing that loud. Ducking my head, I try to make my body smaller than it is to avoid detection.

  “Farren!” I hear through the downpour, and my body lights up before my brain registers the voice.

  “Crux?” I murmur, looking through the glass enclosure I’m in.

  “Get in!” he calls again. I debate it for about three seconds before jumping in the passenger seat of his muscle car. “What the hell are you doing out in this shit weather, Farren?” I don’t answer at first; I’m lost in the storm cloud brewing in his gaze. This man keeps surprising me.

  “I have to go to school,” I reply simply.