The Obsession

by Jesse Q Sutanto

  “Dee, please—”

  She lifted her foot and stomped on my injured hand. I screamed, an animalistic sound. Then she reached out, grabbed me by the hair, and in a split second I was back underwater, and it was cold, cold, cold, and the river was sucking everything out of me, relentless, pounding. This was not how it was meant to go. I was going to save her, I was going to—

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Delilah

  Time lost all meaning, warping, going both fast and slow, trapping me in that moment where I caught hold of the back of Logan’s hair, shoved his head into the water, and held him there. The generous mix of downers I’d put into the hot chocolate—Ambien, mostly, plus a bit of MDMA to really fuck him up—made sure he wouldn’t fight hard enough to actually overpower me. It was too easy, actually, which made it harder. He should have been given a fair chance. Murder shouldn’t be easy. Not like this. It shouldn’t feel natural.

  Logan’s arms were floating, the sleeves of his coat ballooning with trapped air. It’s done. No, not yet. I wasn’t stupid enough to let go right away. God help me, I was a natural. I held fast for one more minute, just to be sure. No room for errors, not down this dangerous path. A minute passed. I pried my frozen fingers loose. Logan veered downriver, but his legs were still on the bank, and he stuck fast. I gave him one last push and watched as he floated downriver.

  I blinked away my tears and took a deep breath. No time to mourn the loss of what little innocence I had left.

  Breathing hard, I stepped away from the river and gathered the broken pieces of the USB drive. I picked up my bag from the ground then made my way back toward campus. I stripped off my jacket as I walked, stuffed it into a plastic bag I had prepared, and put the bundle into my bag. The last thing I needed was to be seen by other students walking around in wet clothes the night Logan drowned. I put on a clean sweater without breaking stride.

  The sadness caught me unaware, punching me in the gut hard enough to take my breath away. That same strange, calm rage had taken over me. The exact one that had pushed me into kicking out the car jack. I’d gone to that same place, where time stopped and I could practically see the air molecules around me freezing and all that existed in the world were me and my prey. I’d struck again, and this time it was even worse, because this time, it wasn’t just a matter of a brash kick. I’d grabbed Logan and held him down while he drowned under my hands.

  I could no longer stop the tears. By some stroke of luck, very few people were about, and none close enough to notice me crying. I pulled my hood down over as much of my face as I could as tears burned down my cheeks. Oh my god, I killed him.

  I hadn’t planned on killing him. Truly, I hadn’t.

  The thought of killing another human being made every fiber in my being recoil. My plan had been to frame Logan as Draycott’s drug kingpin. It would be so easy to do. Even Mendez thought Logan had something to do with the drug business. But then he’d attacked me, and I couldn’t not react. It was self-defense.

  Except it wasn’t. Not really. I could’ve let him go once he fell into the river. I could’ve just turned and run away. But no, I wanted to do it. The chance for freedom practically fell into my lap. Yeah. This was fate. This was meant to be. He deserved to die. I was just defending myself—

  My phone rang then, startling me so badly that I actually gasped out loud. Oh god, who was it? Did somebody see? Did they report me to the cops?

  It was Lisa. She didn’t even give me a chance to say hello before she said in a clipped voice, “Come to the stacks. Now.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I very nearly started hyperventilating. I forced myself to slow down and take a deep breath. And another. I was okay. I knew what this was going to be about. She didn’t know what I’d just done.

  Then it hit me. So what if she knew what I did? She of all people wouldn’t be in a hurry to go to the cops.

  I paced for a bit, trying to smooth out my frantic thoughts, reminding myself to breathe deep, to gather myself before walking back to campus. This was okay. This was good. In fact, yeah, this was how things should have gone. Because even if I pinned the drugs on Logan, he was never going to let me go. He’d spend a few years in prison, or maybe in juvie, and once he was out, he’d hunt me down. This had to happen for me to have a future. I took in a shaky breath and calmed myself. I was okay. And even if I wasn’t right this very moment, I was going to be okay.

  I hurried across the quad toward the library and went through the side door, which I knew would remain unlocked. Inside, it was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat. My footsteps sounded thunderous in the large, silent space.

  Lisa practically pounced on me when I unlocked the door to the office. Her eyes were wild, her face red with barely repressed anger. “I know you’ve been sampling the product. I’ve got thousands of dollars of merchandise missing here!” This was the first time I’d ever seen the timid librarian act crack, and it caught me off guard. I stumbled back a bit before catching myself. “Dee, I told you, if you ever steal from me—”

  “There would be grave consequences, emphasis on the grave,” I said. “Yes, I remember.” I had to work hard to keep my voice from trembling. Be strong. You’ve got this.

  “So where’s the stuff? There are six packs of MDMA missing, two bottles of Ambien, not to mention the coke. My profits—”

  “They’ll take a hit, yes, but it’s better than getting arrested for being a drug dealer.” I was speaking sense, I knew. She wouldn’t be able to refute this.

  Lisa froze and gaped at me. “What?”

  My voice solidified. I’d planned for this, didn’t I? Everything, down to the last meticulous detail. I’d tied up all the loose ends. There was no reason why my plan couldn’t go on, just because Logan was dead. “Haven’t you noticed that Detective Mendez is closing in? She came down here, for god’s sake. It was only a matter of time before she realized we’re the ones dealing.”

  “No.” Lisa shook her head and pushed up her glasses. “She didn’t—she didn’t think I was a threat.”

  “Oh, right, and she came all the way down here and asked us about the Post Ur Secret board just for fun. Face it, Lisa, we were gonna get caught. I chose to take the initiative to save us.”

  “What? How?”

  I shrugged casually, even though I was sweating like mad. If this didn’t work, if I couldn’t convince Lisa, it would be the end of me. “I pinned it on someone else.”

  Lisa’s mouth dropped open. With her glasses and her ridiculous outfit, she looked so much like a caricature, I almost broke into hysterical laughter. I must be reeling from all that adrenaline that killing Logan had pumped through me. “You what?” she breathed. “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Consider the missing product payment for taking the cops off our backs. You can afford to take a cut from the profits this month. I mean, it’s not like you’re living large or anything.”

  Lisa shook her head with disbelief. “I can’t—” She sighed. Took another deep breath. Sighed again. “So you’re confident about this?”

  “Yep.”

  “And the person you framed, they won’t be able to prove it was you?”

  An image of Logan’s lifeless body floating downstream flashed through my head. “No.”

  Lisa studied me for a long while, and maybe she saw something, maybe she caught a glimpse of the red beast that lived inside me. She took a step back. Lisa was scared of me. Lisa. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  “Okay,” she said, after a beat. She broke eye contact first. “Fine. But you’re no longer welcome here, Delilah. You don’t work for me anymore.”

  I felt a sudden zap of anger, but as quickly as it came, it fizzled away. I didn’t need the job anymore. I’d saved up enough to at least get me to Singapore. Mom would help me out the rest of the way.

  “Okay,” I said. Lisa looke
d visibly relieved. “But I need you to do one last thing for me.” She stiffened. “I need an alibi.”

  Now the fear was clear as words on a page. “An alibi? Jesus, Dee, what the hell did you do?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I fixed everything. Log me in so it looks like I was here working the whole evening.” I nodded at her computer. Lisa hesitated, but I held my ground, gazing at her until she moved to the computer. She typed in her access code and did as I asked, logging me on the roster from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. “Thank you.”

  She swallowed and refused to look at me. “Get out.”

  It stung a little. We’d worked so closely for so long, and she wasn’t even the least bit grateful that I’d saved her ass. I shook my head and sighed as I left the library for the last time.

  The night air was cool and refreshing on my skin. I breathed deep and my eyes fluttered closed. The air tasted of freedom. Despite everything that had happened tonight, a laugh escaped me. I was free. Of Brandon. Of Logan.

  And I realized then why Lisa had been so eager to get rid of me. Why I shouldn’t take her rejection personally. Because one thing I had learned about predators is that there can only be one around. Lisa, Brandon, and Logan were all predators, in their own ways. And, as it turned out, so was I. Maybe Lisa sensed that I was a bit of a natural when it came to killing predators. That I was the snake after all. And maybe, just maybe, I liked it a little.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, thank you to my husband, Mike, who supported me in every way that a spouse could. Thank you for working so I didn’t have to, for watching the baby at dawn so I could write, and for brainstorming with me on my wild ideas.

  I will be forever grateful to Uwe Stender for selling my debut book and setting me on the incredible path I now travel. He not only made this book stronger, he also picked the best possible editor for it. I am so happy that The Obsession found its home with Annie Berger and the team at Sourcebooks. Annie’s input made the story sharper, more exciting, and about a million times better than it previously was.

  The Obsession was my fifth book, and it didn’t sell until after I finished writing my eighth. This journey has been a horribly long and twisty one, and I would have quit writing a long time ago if not for the love and support from my online family. A special thanks to S. L. Huang, who was there from the very beginning and continues to be my guide in everything from writing to how to be a less crappy person. Toria Hegedus, who is always patient and loving. Maddox Hahn, whose wit makes me jealous. Lani Frank, who I can count on to spot all the plot holes (and fix them). Tilly Latimer, whose superpower is always getting us out of tricky spots. Elaine Aliment, for her unflinching and brilliant observations. Rob Livermore, the best cheerleader and also our generation’s Dahl. Emma Maree, who is the purest soul in the world. Mel Melcer, for being a source of wisdom and calm. Taylor, my mind-mate (Delilah!)—we drive each other up the wall, but if I ever crush someone with a Camaro, you’d be the one I’d call because you know everything about everything and I have no idea how you’re that smart? Nicole Lesperance, who is incredibly talented and just about the sweetest person I know. Shannon Morgan, whose tenacity and productivity humbles me.

  I wouldn’t have found any of these amazing writers without the Absolute Write forum, which is the best resource there is for writers. Thank you to the wonderful, hardworking mods—Lisa, MacAllister, Calla, and so many others, for making AW a safe place for writers to learn and grow.

  To my family—my Mama and Papa, for giving me everything you never had growing up. You sacrificed everything for my sake and gave me the best education possible. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without your help. And to my babies, Emmie and Rosie, my little warrior princesses. Thank you for pushing me to want to be better.

  And of course, to you, dear reader. Thank you so much for picking up a copy of my debut book. I am so grateful for your support, and I hope that you have enjoyed reading The Obsession as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  About the Author

  Photo © Michael Hart

  Jesse Q. Sutanto grew up shuttling back and forth between Indonesia, Singapore, and Oxford, and considers all three places her home. She has a master’s from Oxford University but has yet to figure out how to say that without sounding obnoxious. She has forty-two first cousins and thirty aunties and uncles, many of whom live just down the road. When she’s not writing, she’s gaming with her husband (mostly FPS) or making a mess in the kitchen with her two daughters.

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