Devious Obsession

by S. Massery

“That’s my girl,” he whispers in my ear.

“I’m afraid of a lot,” I say lightly. I twist to face him. It’s meant to be humorous, maybe, but it falls flat even in my ears. It’s the one bit of truth I’ll allow myself. That I’m desperately scared of a lot, and trying to face it has given me split results. Sometimes good. Sometimes fucking triggered.