Possessive

by W Winters

  “You watched me leave?” I ask him, not knowing where this is going, but fearing what he has to say because of his tone and bearing. Because of how the air thickens and threatens to strangle me. As if even it would rather I be dead than for Daniel to destroy me with the history between us.

  “I wish it were as easy as that,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I watched you board the train with that heavy suitcase, and I got on too. I watched you check in to a motel four cities over. And I requested a room next to yours.”

  Every word he says makes my heart feel tighter.

  “I watched you for days before finally breaking myself away from you to call Carter and tell him I wasn’t coming back. I’d decided to spend my time doing one thing.” The heat in his eyes intensifies at the memory and his gaze feels like fire against my skin. “Watching you.”

  “You stalked me?” I ask him although the words stumble over each other and barely come out as a croak. I can’t deny the fear that begs my body to run, but I’m frozen where I am, waiting for his confession to release me.

  “I watched you because I needed to. You blamed yourself and your pain was so raw and genuine. So full of everything that I didn’t have. Of course I hated every bit of who I was because Tyler had to die, while God chose to let me live. I wanted to cry and mourn like you did. A very large part of me wanted you to cry harder as you hugged your pillow to your chest in the dark. Some nights you couldn’t even stand long enough to make it to the bed.”

  He cocks his head as he looks me in the eye and asks, “Do you remember how you’d sleep on the floor even when the bed was so close?” His last words come out as a whisper and I can’t answer. I can hardly breathe as tears leak from my eyes.

  “I thought about picking you up and putting you in the comfort of your sheets-”

  “You came in?” I cut him off and suck in a deep breath. “You broke in to my room?”

  “Addison, I couldn’t be away from you.” His admission elicits a very real fear that makes my body tremble as I shy away from him. Scooting farther away on the sofa, but not quite able to run.

  “Not until you started getting better,” he adds and then stands up. I cling to the cushion, cowering under him and backing away when he tries to touch me.

  The tears fall freely as the extent of my fears from so long ago is realized. I swear I heard things. I heard someone walking in my room in the darkness. I swear I felt eyes on me. “I thought it was him,” I cry out and cover my burning face. I thought Tyler was with me for so long. And it took me years to think that it wasn’t because he wished me harm. I thought he hated me and wanted me to be scared. And then I loathed myself that much more for thinking so poorly of such a good soul.

  “I needed to watch you, Addison. I’m sorry.”

  I stand up quickly, and I’m close to him. So close I nearly smack the top of my head against his chin as I stand. “I need to get away from you,” I sputter, crossing my arms over my chest and walking around the sofa although I have no idea how I can even breathe, let alone speak and move.

  I can barely see where I’m going, but I know where the door is.

  Gripping the handle, I swing it open and face him. My legs are weak and I feel like I’m going to throw up. He made me crazy. It was him all along.

  “I never did anything to hurt you, Addison, and I didn’t want to.” Daniel speaks calmly, the other side of him starting to emerge. The side that’s okay with Daniel dropping his defenses. The vulnerable side that wants me to understand and isn’t pushing me away. But that’s exactly what I need to do right now. I need to shove him far away.

  “I want you to leave,” I tell him and sniffle, swiping under my eyes aggressively, willing the tears to stop. I’m shaking. Physically shaking.

  “You need to go,” I tell him because it’s the only truth I know. My mind is a chaotic storm and everything I’d been keeping at bay, all the fear and sorrow are screaming at me until I can’t hear anything. I can’t make out anything. The exception being the man standing right in front of me who’s the cause of my pain.

  “Who did you think I was, Addison?” he asks me as if this is my fault.

  And maybe part of it is.

  “You knew I wasn’t a good man back then, and you know that now.”

  “Get out.” They’re the only words I can say.

  “It was years ago.”

  “I said get out!” I scream at him, but he only gets closer to me until I shove him away. He can’t hold me and make this right.

  “You stalked me.” I can barely get the words out. I’m in disbelief and terrified, although I’m not sure which reaction is winning.

  “You had hope,” he says back hard as if it justifies everything. “You had happiness. You had everything I wanted. You were everything I wanted. You can hate me for it, but you can’t deny that. It’s the truth.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  “Please don’t make me leave,” he tells me as if it’s only just now getting through to him. He looks at the open doorway and then back at me. The hall is empty and cold and a draft comes in, making me shudder.

  “Get. Out.” I can’t look at him as he stares at me, waiting for me to say something else.

  “Addison-”

  “Out!” I yell as loud as I can. So hard my throat screams with pain and my heart hurts.

  Even over my rushing blood I hear each of his footsteps as he walks away from me.

  “You said you wouldn’t leave me,” Daniel grits between his teeth as he stands on the threshold of my door.

  The words leave me as I slam the door shut in his face. “I lied.”

  Chapter 22

  Daniel

  * * *

  The heavy pit in my stomach is why I don’t give people a damn piece of myself. That sick feeling that I swear is never going to go away is why I play it close to the vest.

  I thought she was different.

  I close my eyes, swallowing although my throat is tight and listening to the busy traffic on Lincoln Street. I’m close to the address Marcus gave me. Close to being done with this town and having no reason to stay.

  It’s only when the street quiets that I open my eyes and force myself to move forward. Going through with the motions.

  She is different. She does know better. She knows who and what I am.

  She just doesn’t want to accept it.

  And how can I really blame her? I don’t want to accept it either. I didn’t even get to tell her all of the truth. I didn’t get to take her pain away from thinking she’s to blame.

  And that makes everything that much harder to swallow.

  Passing a corner liquor store, I make sure I track the movements of the few people scattered around me. I keep to myself, heading south down the street. It’s late and only the moon and streetlights illuminate the road ahead of me. But dark is good when you don’t want to be seen.

  I try to focus, but with the quiet of the night, I can’t help but to think of Addison. She’s always comforted me in the darkness.

  I finally had her. Really had her. I felt what I always knew there could be between us. And I let her get away. I lost her by confessing.

  Maybe that’s why it hurts this fucking bad. She loved who I am, but hates what I’ve done. And there’s no way I can take it back.

  She saw the truth of what I was, but I could have sworn she knew it all along.

  Maybe I should have just hinted at it. And let her ask if she wanted to know more.

  You can’t change the past. If anyone knows that fact all too well, it’s me.

  Give her time. I close my eyes, remembering the advice I gave Tyler once. If only it was that easy.

  The chill in the autumn air is just what I need as I steady my pace with my hands in my jacket pockets. The metal of the gun feels cold against my hand as I glance from house number to house number.

  55 West Planes. In the mailbox.

  That’s what Marcus said. Simple instructi
ons. But an easy setup if he’s planning one.

  They say he’s a man with no trace, no past, and nothing to use against him. A ghost. A man who doesn’t exist.

  He knows everything and only tells you what he wants when he wants to deliver it. But he’s a safe in-between for people like us to use. Because if Marcus tells you something, it’s because he wants you to know it.

  And that’s a good thing, unless he wants you dead.

  I brush my hair back as I glance from right to left. There’s a group of guys on the steps of an old brick house across the street and on its mailbox is 147.

  I cross the street after passing them, so I’m on the odd-numbered side. The block before this was numbered in the two hundreds. So one more block.

  The adrenaline pumps in my blood and I finger the gun inside my jacket pocket.

  I have to will away the thoughts of Addison, no matter how much they cling to me and plague me every waking second.

  My father taught us all to pay attention. Distractions are what get you killed.

  A huff of a laugh leaves me at the memory of his lesson.

  I guess when you don’t care if you live or die, the severity of his words don’t send pricks down your skin like they did when you were a child.

  Tyler wasn’t with me that day. I wonder if my father ever bothered to give Tyler that advice. Addison was as big of a distraction to him as she was to me.

  With the tragic memories threatening to destroy me, I halt in my tracks, realizing I wasn’t even looking at the numbers.

  And I happened to stop right at 55. The mailbox is only two steps away.

  The cold metal door of the mailbox opens with a creak. The sound travels in the tense air and the inside appears dark and empty. I dare to reach inside and pull out only an unmarked envelope. Nothing else.

  My forehead pinches as I consider it. It’s thin and looks as if it’s not even carrying anything. But it’s sealed and this is the right address.

  All of this for one little envelope.

  Slamming the door to the mailbox shut, I walk a few blocks, gripping the envelope in my hand and looking for a bus stop.

  I text my brother even though I don’t want to. I don’t want him to know it’s done. That I have what he’s been waiting for. It’s just an envelope.

  It’s marked as read almost immediately and he responds just as quickly.

  Good. Come back home.

  Staring at his text, that pit in my stomach grows. I’m frozen to the cement sidewalk, knowing I have to leave and hating that fact.

  I know I need to move and not stay here, lingering when Marcus will be watching. But with the phone staring back at me with no new messages or missed calls, the compulsive habit of calling Addison takes over.

  The phone rings and rings and goes to her voicemail.

  I haven’t stopped trying and I don’t intend to.

  I stayed as long as I could outside her door. I listened to her cry until she had nothing left. I don’t know if I should have tried to talk to her and made her aware that I was still there wanting to comfort her, or if it would have only made her angrier.

  A heavy burden weighs on my chest as I slip the envelope into my jacket, careful to fold it down the center and keep moving in the night.

  I have no choice but to take this back to Carter. There’s no way I can stay.

  For the first time in a long time, I feel trapped. Suffocated by what’s coming.

  I can’t leave her again.

  I can’t watch her walk away, and I can’t leave her either.

  But it was never my choice.

  It’s always been hers.

  Chapter 23

  Addison

  * * *

  I can’t count the number of times I swore I was haunted. Not the hotels I stayed in or the places I moved. But me. A Romani woman in New Orleans once told me that it’s not places, it’s people who are haunted.

  And since the day Tyler died, I swore up and down that he decided he would haunt me as I ran from place to place, never finding sanctuary.

  From the creaks in the floorboards, to small things being misplaced. Every time I tried to find meaning in those moments. Each time I thought it was something Tyler wanted me to know and see.

  There were so many nights when I cried out loud, begging him to forgive me. Even when I couldn’t forgive myself.

  I wonder if Daniel heard my pleas.

  My phone pings on the coffee table and out of a need to know what he has to say this time, I reach for it. I haven’t answered a single call or message from him. I don’t know what to tell him.

  It’s fucked up. He’s fucked up.

  He hurt me beyond recognition.

  I should tell him how I couldn’t move for days on end. But the bastard knows that already.

  I truly loved him, but a lie from years ago makes me question everything. He could have helped me heal. He could have shouldered the burden of my pain and I would have done the same for him. But just like when Tyler was alive, he was silent. He gave me nothing.

  I’m surprised by the hurt that ripples through me when I see it’s Rae and not Daniel.

  It’s a shocking feeling. And it takes me a moment to realize what I really want. I want him to beg me to forgive him. I want him to know my pain.

  I let the idea resonate with me as I ignore Rae and click over to Daniel’s texts. Six of them in a row.

  I’m sorry.

  I was wrong.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  If I wasn’t with you and watching you it was too much for me to take.

  I wish you would understand.

  I would never hurt you. I never will.

  I read his texts and the anger boils as I text back. You’ll never know how much it hurt to go through that alone. And you made it worse for me. You sat in silence while I was in pain. How could you ever think I’d forgive you?

  I realize I’m more disturbed that he didn’t try to help me than the fact that he stalked me. I guess that’s not so different from what he did when I was with Tyler.

  I press send without thinking twice. And then I click over to Rae, who wants to know how it’s going. Fucking priceless, I think bitterly.

  I roll my eyes, letting a shudder run through my body and tears roll down my cheeks. Instead of answering her, I move to the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

  I still haven’t unpacked my wine glasses and I know it’s because part of me was already envisioning leaving with Daniel. I knew he wasn’t staying long and I’d go anywhere with him. I would have done anything he wanted to be by his side.

  My phone pings again as I bend down and grab a bottle of merlot by the neck from the bottom shelf of my wine rack. I pretend I’m going to let the phone sit there, but I’m too eager to see what he has to say. I’m a slave to his response.

  He writes back, Because I was in pain too. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t to hurt you. It was only to distract me from the guilt I felt.

  Pain and guilt and agony and death make people do awful things. But it’s no excuse.

  I write back instantly, You used me.

  I did.

  I hate you for it. I stare at the text message and with the pain in my heart, I already know it’s not hate. It just hurts so much that he watched and did nothing.

  Can you love me and hate me at the same time?

  I’ll never forgive you.

  He types some and then the bubbles that indicate he’s writing stop. And then they continue, but suddenly stop again. All the while I grip my phone tightly.

  Instead of waiting, I write more. My hands shake and the anger in me confuses itself for sorrow.

  I needed someone and I had no one. I wanted you, you had to know. I blamed myself for everything when there was no reason to think otherwise. You could have helped me, but you only watched. You made my pain so much worse than it needed to be.

  I send it to him and although it’s marked as read, nothing comes. Minutes pass and the ticking of the cloc
k serves as a constant reminder of every second going by with nothing to fill the gaping hole in my heart.

  The moment I set the phone down on the counter and reach for the corkscrew, the phone beeps. I have to read it twice and then reread the message I’d sent him before the sob escapes me.

  That’s the way I felt every time you kissed him.

  My shoulders shake so hard that I fall to the ground, my phone falling as well, although the screen doesn’t shatter. I cover my face as I cry, hating myself even more and not knowing how to make anything better.

  My phone pings again, but I can’t answer it for the longest time. Even though it feels pathetic, I cry so hard it hurts every piece of my heart. The piece I gave Tyler when I gave myself to him. The piece I thought I’d left behind when I walked away from him. The piece that left me when he was laid to rest, and the piece I gave Daniel. There are many pieces. Pieces from years ago, from only days ago and the very big piece he just took.

  I want him back instantly. I want him to hold me. There’s a part of me that knows it’s weak and pathetic to feel this desperate need for someone else. But deep inside I know I’d live my life happily being weak and pathetic for him. Isn’t he weak for me just the same?

  Sniffling and wiping at my face, I somehow get up, bracing myself against the counter and reaching for the faucet. My face is hot and I can still hardly breathe.

  I don’t think you ever get over the death of someone who’s taken up space in your soul. It isn’t possible. There are only moments when you remember that you’re a pale imitation of what you could be if they were still with you. And those moments hurt more than anything else in this world.

  As I turn off the faucet, I swear I hear something behind me and I whip around, a chill flowing over my skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

  It takes every ounce of strength in me to lower myself to the ground, although my eyes stay on the skinny hallway where the noise came from.