Obsessive Love Disorder [PART 3]

2

November 2, 1996
Billy

"Hey... Billy? C'mon, man..."

I squeeze my already-shut eyes even tighter in an attempt to block out the voice that comes from in front of me, but when a large hand grasps my shoulder and gently shakes me, I begrudgingly open them. Stu crouches next to me, his expression casual but his eyes full of worry. 

"What?"

"You fell asleep."

"So?"

Stu sighs and gestures to my body. I glance down, suddenly remembering just where I am and what happened this morning. I'm still in my "blood"-soaked jeans and shirt and my boots are still laced tightly on my feet, caked in mud and some actual blood. I'm propped against a wall, my head hanging in a way that definitely fucked up my neck and my arms crossed defiantly in front of my chest. 

"Oh."

"She hasn't come out yet?"

I groan, popping my neck as I turn around to face the door next to me, still locked. "...No."

That's right... I fell asleep here. I didn't get into bed or anything, I didn't even bother to change my clothes. I sat my ass right outside the bathroom door and waited like a fool. Waited for her to stop crying. Waited for her to come out and look at me again. 

"Do you think she'll ever come out?" I ask quietly. Stu arches an eyebrow before extending his hand to me, pulling me off of my feet with a brute amount of strength. "It's been a day, man," he reasons as he leads me slowly to the kitchen, which upon entering I find an assortment of cereal boxes and a carton of milk. "You've gotta give her a second to... y'know... accept the situation."

"How long, though?" I complain. Stu shoves a bowl and spoon in front of me, expecting me to comply and eat something, and shrugs. "How am I supposed to know?"

I glare at him in response and pointedly slide the bowl back toward him. "I'm not hungry."

"Billy-"

Before he can get another word in, I stalk out of the kitchen and back toward the bathroom door. My heart thumps at the thought of turning the corner and seeing the door finally open, but I falter at the sight of the dark wood still keeping me from her. 

Though... it is quiet. She's not crying anymore. The hope rises again. 

On a whim, I decide to go down the rest of the hall and open a small broom closet, mostly used for storage now. I scan the shelves with a critical eye before finding my prize — a small, red, plastic box with a big cross-sign on the front. I nervously toss it back and forth between my hands as I amble back to the bathroom, taking deep breaths as I go. I knock. 

"Charlotte?"

Nothing, as expected. Still, I knock again and gather my words into the softest voice I can use. 

"I brought you a first-aid kit," I explain. I feel a little dumb talking to a closed door, and for all I know she could still be asleep, but I continue anyway. "Can I... come in? To take care of you?"

Still nothing. My heart drops a bit, but I steel myself as I grip the door's handle, ready to bust in if I need to. I recall the giant gash on her forehead and the blood that poured from it last night... I'm amazed at her resilience. But I have to help her. I want to feel needed again. 

"Please, Charlotte. Let me in. I... I need to help you. You're injured, love, I need to fix it-"

In a flash, the door rips open, almost causing me to fall right through the frame. Before I can even process what's happening, a shaking hand yanks the first-aid kit from my hand and retreats into the bathroom. 

"Wha-"

Then the door slams in my face. 

I'm not sure how long I stand there, just staring at the wood as if I can see through it. I don't cry, I don't yell, I don't even speak. I just stare. Stare at the obstacle between us. 

What am I saying? The door isn't the obstacle... I am. I fucked it all up, it was all me. I can't blame this on a physical object. I can't blame anyone but myself. I did what I had to do... or what I thought I had to do. What if I was wrong? What if I was wrong about everything? Christ, if I had just held back, we would've been just fine. We would've driven home from the Halloween party, my hand resting on her thigh and her smile still lighting up my life. We would've gone to her place and watched a movie. We would've fallen asleep together, her body safely wrapped in my arms. We would've been... just fine. 

But those days... those days after I killed them. She was okay. She had no reason to be afraid, no reason to watch her back all the time. She smiled and laughed and spoke with the air of someone with no worries. I want her to feel like that all the time. I want her to be content with her life, with me right by her side. 

She's not okay anymore. She's locked in the bathroom of a remote cabin in the woods. Her skull is nearly cracked because of Stu. She's scared of me. 

She's scared of me. 

I killed people she didn't feel comfortable around. I killed people who made her feel afraid. 

Now I'm one of those people. 

I... I'm next. 

I can't live with myself if she's scared of me. I'd rather kill myself. She'd be in pain, yes, but she'd recover. She'd feel better without me around. Without anyone around. I could kill Stu for hurting her, then kill myself. She and Davey would be okay. I'd leave a confession for the police, telling them that she had nothing to do with the murders. She'd go home without me, vulnerable to the world, but that's better than her being afraid of the person who wants to protect her more than anything. Who loves her more than anything. 

I'll use my knife. I'll stab myself over and over until I'm dead. It's poetic justice, as well as fully deserved. Overdosing on pills would be too peaceful. Shooting myself would be too quick. I deserve to suffer for what I've done to her. I'll go back to the kitchen and stab Stu, first. He needs to pay for what he did to my girl. He needs to pay for the plan going to shit in the first place. I'll make his death quicker, though, for bringing us all to safety and for sticking by my side. Then I'll kill myself. I'll die right there in the kitchen and wait for one of the siblings to find us. It'll scare them, but it's for the best. They don't need me to protect them. Charlotte doesn't need me to protect her anymore.

I barely register the sound of a door creaking open just down the hall, nor the sudden presence of a small body right behind me. I know he's there... I just can't turn around. 

"Billy?"

"Hm."

"I'm... hungry."

Painfully, I tear my eyes away from the door and toward the kid, who rubs the sleep from his face and stares up at me with a nervous expression. Despite my demented thoughts, I take a shuddering breath and force a grin as I wrap an arm around Davey's shoulders and steer him toward the kitchen. "Stu, get him some cereal."

He whips around from his spot at the cabinets, where he rummages presumably for more food, and smiles warmly at Davey. "Sure thing. Now, here's the real question: are you more of a Lucky Charms or a Froot Loops kid?"

The two of them settle into their breakfast, spoons clinking against the ceramic bowls in a comfortable silence. I remain leaning against the counter, my eyes trained on the hallway that houses the bathroom, just in case. 

"Can I ask a question?" Davey speaks, his mouth still full of sugary cereal. Stu glances at me warily before shrugging. "Shoot."

"Is Charlotte gonna come out today?"

Without looking away from the hall, I reply in the calmest voice I can muster. "I don't think so, kid."

"Oh..."

The clinking of the spoon against ceramic continues, but the silence has become suffocating. 

(A/N - Sorry for my irregular uploading schedule, I just started my first year of college so I've been pretty damn busy lol. I'll try to keep up now that I'm more acclimated :D)