Obsessive Love Disorder [PART 3]

13

December 26, 1996
Billy

A soft wind blows through my hair as I march through the thick woods, following a silhouette shrouded by the darkness of the night. It's past midnight now, and I can't help but recall the night we first arrived at the cabin. That was nearly a month ago, and even though the night feels similar to that one, everything's changed. I'm not in charge - in fact, I'm terrified. I'm terrified of the darkness, the weight of the portable phone in my pocket, and the anger that radiates off of Charlotte as she walks ahead of me. 

I stumble through the leaves and twigs that litter the ground, yet she confidently strides through as if she's been through this before. She's still slightly drunk, though, and she sways side to side and I can hear her muttering incoherently under her breath. 

"Charlotte?"

"What?"

"I don't think you should-"

"Shut up. I'm not quitting."

I immediately shut my mouth as I feel my face warm with guilt. 

"We're almost there, anyway. No point in turning back now, right?"

"...Right."

She isn't wrong. After a solid two hours of walking through the woods, we finally emerge into the dim nighttime lights of West Haven. I've only been here a few times for football games, but I forgot how nice it is. The demographic here is much wealthier than Woodsboro's, complete with a mall and a golf course. Every house here is essentially a mansion - imagine Stu's house... but every house is Stu's house. Not my little suburban abode, and definitely not Charlotte's damaged and corrupt home. 

I continue to follow Charlotte diligently as she winds through the streets, the streetlamps above our heads illuminating her face for the first time in hours. I couldn't see in the woods, but with the bit of glow that shines on her now, I can see her eyes rimmed with red and tears spilling down her face. I want more than anything to reach out to her and hold her tight, but...

"There."

Charlotte suddenly points across the street to an imposing house. There's a small fountain out front that spews crystal-clear water, and lanterns that line the sidewalk and driveway. This place is nice, I must admit, but the person inside? Not so much. 

"Are you gonna do it?"

"Hm?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes and gestures at my pocket. "The thing. With the phone."

"Oh," I reply, reaching into my jeans to retrieve my portable. "I... I guess. If you want me to."

"You're the serial killer here, not me."

I wince but keep my mouth closed as I begin to press the buttons on the small device, punching in the number that Charlotte told me hours ago. Putting it to my ear, we slowly move our way closer to the house until we're positioned right across from the kitchen window. Inside, I can barely make out a figure - a man - hunched over a table and looking through a stack of papers. 

Ring... ring...

The man stands begrudgingly and stalks over to the landline hanging on his wall. A click on my end signals me to take out my trusty voice modulator.

"Hello?"

"Hello."

Charlotte flinches beside me as my voice comes out pitched low and staticky. I look at her with remorse, but she doesn't even look back. 

"Who is this?"

"I don't know."

Inside, the man visibly huffs. "You don't know who you are?"