Obsession

by Harleigh Beck

“You wanted me at the first interview?” “Long before then.”

The media is frothing at the mouth about the rumored doomed love story between a serial killer and his reporter.

“When did you fall in love with the devil?” My world comes to a stop. That voice…

The world spins out of control in my periphery, but he’s all I can focus on—the

He’s here, in broad daylight, blending with the crowd.

I can’t deny the effect Robbie has on me or how he commands my attention when he says fuck you to common sense and seeks me out in broad daylight to tilt my world on its axis.

Our story is, in fact, a doomed love story.

My insides twist uneasily at hearing him speak so causally about my life.

The Bridge Killer removed his latest victim’s lips before suspending her from the railing by the wrists. And now those same lips were in a box on my desk, like an ominous message just for me.

Of course, he couldn’t stay away and just leave me alone. He’s obsessed. We both are.

The reporter who fell in love with a condemned serial killer was to be The Bridge Killer’s final victim herself.

“I should have known you’d find a fucking way to escape again.” Robbie holds the gun steady at the back of Elliot’s head, his voice colder than a winter’s night. “It’s a mistake you won’t repeat twice.”

“Aren’t you the hero of the hour, arriving just in the nick of time to save the girl?” “I’m not here to save anyone.” Robbie clucks his tongue. “I’m here to steal.”

All that matters is that he’s here, carrying my broken body through the dark forest on a freezing cold night after saving me from my past.

My heart frosts over. I’ve lost him. He’s not mine anymore. I’m his, but the gates to his heart are welded shut.

Morally gray is not a word in our dictionary. Black is our color. Black is our song. Black is his love note to me.

When did I stop looking over my shoulder? When did I lose hope? When did the truth sink in? Robbie is gone.

“I’m only a man and certainly not a professional. In my opinion, Robbie is only a danger to people who harm you or anyone that stands in his way where you are concerned.”

“Robbie fears himself when he’s around you.” “And I fear myself when he’s not around,”

“I’m going to catch his attention and give him no choice but to act. If he still doesn’t leave his hiding place, I’ll wave a red flag in front of a bull and wait for him to charge.”

I dim my screen when my date—a man whose name I’ve already forgotten—returns

This is what I do now: agree to dates at forgettable diners with forgettable men because I want to piss Robbie off, like a spoiled, immature brat.

“A reporter who falls in love with a serial killer.”

A year has passed since I last saw him. A whole fucking year.

Well, scoot over Robbie Hammond. There’s a new serial killer in town.

Robbie is nothing if not territorial, and this act of defiance will undoubtedly enrage the monster inside him when he catches sight of my red flag.

“If you ever so much as look in another man’s direction again, I will peel your skin off your body. You hear me, baby?

“You left,” I bite out, baring my teeth, though he can’t see it. “What did you expect? That I’d live happily ever after with my fucking vibrator?”

“The men are lucky you killed them, or the death I would have handed down would have made your pathetic kills look like child’s play.”

“I can always fuck the guards for special favors. We both know I excel at that.”

“I’m the Queen of Hearts Killer. They’re hunting me too.”