Page 53 of Framed Obsession

“Wow, that was… thrilling? Oh my god, I just took a life, and I just said it was… thrilling? I know it hasn't hit me yet, but what am I going to do when it does. Will it?” her anxiety speaks for her. I bring a hand up and move a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I won't let you–” I fall to the ground. Pain sears through my skull as my head hits the unforgiving floor, leaving me dazed. I can hear Dahlia screaming in the background, but I’m paralyzed. I can’t move. I can't speak.

Terror consumes me as I look down at my blood-covered hands. They shake with worry. What am I going to do? What if I get caught? I back away from the horrors I committed in front of me. I have my whole life ahead of me, and I just threw it away. I was imprisoned my whole life, and I finally saw the end and I…

I fucked it all up.

I fall backward onto the floor. Frozen. I sit and stare at the lifeless bodies in front of me. Everything around me feels like time hit the pause button. It's just me, them, and silence.

“But they deserved it. But they deserved it. But they deserved it,” I say over and over and over and over.

“Axel, please. Wake up!” she says as her shouts get closer and closer.

What did I do to deserve her? I don’t deserve anything good in this life. Especially as good as she is. I lived in hell, and the demons made damn sure they followed me. I told myself I was content being alone. With the life that I had made. That I could deal with my demons, as I have my entire life.

That is until I met my angel. I’ve never had this feeling before. Of want. Of need. She infiltrated my mind unknowingly like a cure to whatever virus had taken over my brain, and she is all I could think about that keep the demons away. Whenever I thought of her, they would all cower. They would all shudder and quake because something as pure as her overcame my destructive thoughts.

I know I’m fucked up. I’ve always been, and I always will be. I know it’s fucked up that I dragged her into the pits of hell with me, but I couldn’t care less. I knew that I wanted her here with me. That I needed her here, with me…

No matter what I had to do.

Misery loves company. I never knew mine needed some until it started grasping at her like it had been starved for human interaction. Now she's stuck. She is stuck in this abysmal hell with me that I won’t ever let her escape.

“Axel, come on. Get up!” she continues to shout. Her figure comes into focus, and I can see the tears streaming down her face as she bares down on me.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?” I joke, but internally my body is screaming in despair.

“Are you okay? Seriously, tell me if you're not. I can try to help.” She ignores my comment, grabbing the back of my head and cushioning it with her hands.

“I’m fine. I just—these flashbacks have been getting worse.” I sit myself up and rub the back of my head. A dull throbbing pain radiates all around my skull, making me feel nauseous.

“Does this happen every time you have them? Do you fall like this?” she asks.

“Can we, uh, talk about this later.” I point to the dead body slumped over in the chair.

“Oh, yeah. I won't forget to ask you later. We are going to talk about it.” she insists, giving me a stern look. She tries to help me stand. Someone as small as she is compared to me wouldn't be able to handle helping me up. It would be more of a crushing, instead.

“I can take you home. I’ll deal with this mess,” I voice. She is going to freak out about tonight. I’m sure of it. Questioning her morals and all. I don’t want to dump more trauma onto her. I don’t think she could handle it.

Who am I turning into? Old Axel wouldn’t give a flying fuck at all.

“You don't have to deal with this alone. Actually… It’s me, who doesn’t want to deal with this alone. If you drop me off, all I’m going to do is think. And then if I think too long, I’ll drive myself insane,” she says.

“Okay, okay. How about I finish here while you clean yourself up? I can draw you a bath,” I suggest, hoping she takes the bait. I don’t work well with others. I need to do this myself. Plus, the chopping of parts wouldn’t be the best thing for her to witness.

She stands there, contemplating the ladder. Damn it, it’s already starting to stink and my patience is running out. I bend and throw her over my shoulder. She gasps, grabbing onto me.

“Now you don’t have a choice,” I say as I carry her up the stairs. She doesn't fight me; she just dangles, accepting her fate. I live in a ranch home, so I walk to the bathroom that's attached to my bedroom. It’s not a far walk. Once we enter, I set her down on the chilled tile, and turn the water on.

“Do you like it hot or cold?”

“Hot please. Like piping hot,” she responds, looking around.

“Take your clothes off,” I say and she obeys. She grabs my large T-shirt and lifts it above her head, exposing her supple breasts. Then she slides down her pajama pants and her underwear. She kicks them to the side. Little speckles of blood stain the fabric. I stare at her.

I could fuck her all over again.

But I can’t. Not right now. The sooner I get rid of this body, the sooner I can come back to her. I reach my hand in the bath, checking the temperature as the water is almost done rising. I hiss at the heat and quickly jerk it back.