Page 6 of Shattered Obsession

Thalia

Rude.

Xander

I say it with affection.

Thalia

You don’t even know me.

Xander

I will.

That one makes my stomach drop in a completely different way.

I stare at that message for a long time.

I don’t even know what to say back.

Because with Damian, when he says, ‘You’re mine,’ it feels like a corner closing in. With Xander, when he says, ‘I will,’ it doesn’t feel like a threat. It feels like a promise. Quiet, not loud.

I should have paid more attention to the difference.

Damian starts asking when I’m free.

Not ‘when do you want to meet?’ Not ‘what would make you comfortable?’ Just what day he’s picking me up, what time I’ll be ready, and what I’ll wear.

Damian

I’ll come get you Saturday.

Thalia

I can meet you there.

Damian

Nah. I’ll pick you up. Safer that way.

Safer.

That word sounds comforting when you don’t turn it over. I didn’t turn it over. I didn’t let myself ask, ‘Safer for who?’

We talk on the phone a couple nights before the date. The call feels less like a conversation and more like a performance for which he already wrote the script. Every time I speak, he pivots the topic back to him, what he wants, what he expects, who he thinks I am. Like I’m something he’s already imagined, and now he’s trying to mold the real version of me into the fantasy in his head.

At one point, I mention I’m nervous about meeting someone from the internet.

He laughs.

Actually laughs.

“Why? You should be excited.”

The dismissal hits harder than a slap. He doesn’t ask why I’m nervous. He doesn’t reassure me. He labels the feeling wrong, so instead of processing it, I swallow it.

He doesn’t want my honesty. He wants my compliance.