A little heads up before you indulge in reading this story. If you have read my first story, you'll know what I write deals with extremely dark descriptions and stories and 'Obsession' is going to be much darker than my last one.
I URGE YOU TO READ...
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"Love, I just want to make sure, if you're doing okay." He persisted.
"I am," I retorted and turned back around, watching the tea boil.
"Everlee, you sure?
I sighed and turned around, admitting, "You're right, Zio. I'm not but I'm going to be... soon... I just need some time to myself and I'll be good as new."
I offer him my best smile, one that I can muster in this moment. I need to stay positive, particularly in front of Zio. I didn't want him to worry about me, and I certainly don't want to experience another meltdown.
Zio's face remained completely impassive, and I know, he has a lot to say but for now, he simply observed me as I poured him a cup of herbal tea, adding a few drops of honey.
Then I sat by him with my own cup of tea.
The first sip is super refreshing, even for Zio as I can visibly see his tensed shoulders gradually relaxing.
He gazes at hot tea, a foreign smile gracing his lips, which in turn brought a smile to my own face.
"What?" I ask, holding the cup against my lips, ready to take another sip.
His smile only brightened. "You know, the first time you started talking to the walls," he chuckled.
A chuckle escaped me as I listened to his recollection.
"You had convinced me that a ghost was lurking around our mansion."
I snort at his predicament.
"You really thought there was a ghost?" It was more of a statement as I couldn't help the laughter as they bubbled out of me.
"How can I not? You talked to a boy and would always tell me about him. At first, I thought he was one of the maid's sons that you were playing around with and then I caught you talking to him at night, in your bedroom...
"I was furious as to what a boy was doing with my barely teenage daughter, talking this late at night."
He continued with the story but I cannot help but pause at the endearment he used.
The word held a special place in my heart. I have always loved it when he introduced me as his daughter to others. It gave me a sense of belongingness and I felt loved.
"I was ready to dig that boy's grave, as I entered your bedroom only to find you chirping happily all alone with no one in sight, and then you told me to come in and meet that boy."
I burst into laughter, even he chuckled, as we knew how that story ended... with me talking to a psychologist, and since then I have seen a number of professionals to help me with my mental health.
And soon we came to the conclusion that there's no medication or doctors that could help me, except for stabilizing the illness to a point where I can try to live a normal life.
