Dominated (Obsessed II)

35.

Jude Bellingham
The Search

I left my keys on the kitchen counter and stood there for a moment, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows at Madrid below me. The city was still moving, even this late. Cars slipped through the streets, lights burned in apartment windows and somewhere below, people were laughing as they walked past a restaurant.

Normal life.

I envied it sometimes.

I walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, but nothing inside looked appealing. I grabbed a bottle of water instead and leaned against the counter, taking a long drink.

My phone was sitting beside my keys.

I looked at it. There was an email waiting for me.
I already knew what it was before I opened it.

Another page.

Bianca's handwriting filled the screen.

I had received several of them over the past few days, always from the same anonymous address. Whoever was sending them never explained why. They simply appeared, one after anotherz

I opened the attachment.

The page was dated.

I read it slowly.

It was about me. Not the version of me people knew. Not the footballer. Not the man they saw on television or in photographs.

Me.

The things I had said when nobody else was around. The things I had done. The things Bianca believed I was thinking even when I'd never said them aloud. That was what frightened me most about her journal.

She didn't just remember things. She understood me in ways I didn't want anyone to understand me. All her secrets were on full display, some secrets that were meant to be taken to the grave.

After everything I'd learned, after everything she had done, after everything I had spent months believing about her, some part of me still wanted to see her.

Not because I trusted her.

I didn't. Not because I believed she was innocent.

I knew better.

But because there were questions that had lived inside me for too long.

Questions only she could answer. I walked into the living room and sat down. The journal pages had changed something.

I picked up my phone. There was a message waiting.

You need to read the next page before you make a decision.

I stared at it.

A second message followed.

Some things are better understood before they're confronted.

I opened the attachment. This page was different.
There was no story. No confession, just a list.
Names. Dates. Places.

I read through them carefully.