Obsession

Chapter 2

★Mia★

The world surely did revolve around everyone. I would have broken a tooth if someone had told me that this would all end on some random day.

The morning black coffees. The cool evening sunsets we watched together. All the beautiful memories we had created, the little moments I had foolishly believed would last forever.

How could something that once felt so permanent come to an end so suddenly?

Tears clouded my eyes, blurring everything in front of me. I blinked repeatedly trying to hold them back but they wouldn't listen. I gave in and let them fall. They rolled down my burning cheeks, leaving trails behind before dying on my lips.

He stood still, not moving, not saying a word. He simply stared at nothing but the empty dark space.

And somehow, his silence hurt more than anything he had to say.

I sniffed, trying to hold back the rest of my tears, and hurriedly threw on my clothes. My fingers trembled as I struggled with the zip, but I didn't ask for help. I couldn't bear the thought of him touching me, not anymore.

I stepped out and started walking to God knows where. I just knew I had to get away from him.

My breath thudded loudly in my ears, fighting against the loud music coming from the party nearby. Every step felt heavier than the last, but I kept walking, refusing to look back.

Then I heard his car door slam.

For one silly second. Hope fluttered my chest.

That he'd run after me, call my name, grab my hand, and tell me that this was all a terrible joke. That he hadn't meant a single word he said.

I waited for the sound of his footsteps.

Nothing.

I turned my head just enough to glance behind me, but he wasn't coming.

Of course, he wasn't.

A broken laugh escaped my lips, quickly turning into another sob. I clutched my bag tightly against my chest and ran.

I ran until my lungs burned and my legs began to ache. I didn't stop until I stumbled into a restroom and slammed the door behind me. Whatever strength I had left, vanished.

I slid down the door until I hit the cold floor, crying all over again. My hands flew to my head as though I needed to hold it together from exploding. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my elbows on them, curling into myself.

For a while, I couldn't do anything but cry.

I cried for the memories. For the promises. For the false hopes.

And most of all, I cried for the stupid part of me that still wanted him to come looking for me.

My tears began to dry. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and took a shaky breath, but the ache in my chest remained. It sat there, suffocating the little life I had remaining in me.

I needed it to stop.

I needed my head to go gloomy and quiet.

With trembling hands, I dragged my bag closer and emptied its contents onto the floor. Lip gloss, my purse, my earbuds, and a whole lot I carried with me.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for until I found it.

A small stash of cocaine.

For a moment, I stared at it, my fingers hovering reluctantly on its cover. The Mia that loved pianos and poem would have stopped to think but not the one that lost it all.

I was tired of thinking.

Tired of feeling.

Tired of being the girl who had to be strong and act like everything is paradise.

I picked up the little bottle and staggered towards the sink, gripping its edge to steady myself.

I couldn't stand the sight of my reflection that mocked me.

That twin-face staring back at me smirking, laughing at me for being so foolish, believing in something that can be discarded.

"Don't look at me," I whispered, like it could hear me.

Mexican accent that I dropped years ago. I stopped looking and poured the content on the sink top.

Rubbed my palms and within moments, the contents were gone.

At first, nothing happened. Then the room seemed to rotate in circles around me. My head felt stretched to its limit, as though it were expanding from the inside, and a tremor ran through my legs. I reached for the sink, desperate for something solid to hold on to, but my fingers slipped against the smooth surface.

My ankle twisted.

I crashed to the floor.

My body felt worn out. I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn't cooperate. My eyelids grew heavy, and the room dissolved into a blur of twin mirrors and shadows.

I needed to get up.

I sure knew I had to.

But my body was too tired so I gave up.

I tried to relax, hoping the strange feeling would pass if I just stayed still. I had no idea how long I lay there before the restroom door opened.

Footsteps entered.

Someone was here.

I wanted to call out, to ask for help, but my tongue felt tied. I couldn't even lift my head properly, so I remained where I was, barely conscious.

From the scent that reached me, it was a man.

His cologne was strong, rich and masculine, with a clean, expensive scent that seemed odd out of him being in a restroom like this and to that wrecked party.

I heard the tap run, then stop.

A tissue dispenser rattled. Paper rustled, followed by the faint sound of it dropping into the wastebasket.

Ordinary sounds that stopped. Only thing that kept me aware of the surroundings, being barely conscious.

Then the scent grew stronger.

He was closer now.

I felt a shadow fall over me before a pair of hands reached down. One touched the side of my neck, searching for a pulse, before moving to my wrist.

He was checking if I was alive.

That should have frightened me, but I was too far gone to react.

Low throaty murmurs slipped from his lips. Then, without warning, he slid one arm beneath my shoulders and another beneath my knees and lifted me from the floor.

His hands were soft but firm, his grip steady enough to keep me from slipping.

I wanted to speak. To tell him I was squashed.

But what if he thought I was putting on an act? What if he dropped me and walked away?

So I stayed quiet, allowing my head to rest against his chest as he carried me out. It throbbed against my head as it stretch his linen.

I couldn't make sense of his footsteps. The trail he took seemed unusually quiet, far removed from the loud music and the loud laughters. perhaps, he hadn't come for the party or was leaving when he saw me.

I felt no need to ask where he was taking me to as far as it engages my back finding rest on a comfy bed.

I heard a car door open, followed by the gentle shift of my body as he settled me across the back seat. A moment later, another door opened and closed.

The engine came to life.

I should have been afraid. I was lying in the back seat of a stranger's car, exhaustion had swallowed my fear, and consciousness was slipping away too quickly for me to fight it.

I tried to hold back from the wind but I dozed off.

The last thing I remembered was the low hum of the engine and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

When my eyes finally opened again, I had no idea where I was.

For several seconds, I lay completely still, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.

The room was large, dimly lit by a bedside lamp that cast a warm glow across the furniture. Everything beyond its reach dissolved into shadows.

I slowly pushed myself upright.

My head throbbed, and my mouth felt painfully dry. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to piece together the events of the previous night.

The breakup.

The restroom.

The floor.

The man.

The car.

My back actually got the rest. That mattered more.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood cautiously. My knees felt unsteady, so I reached for the wall, tracing its surface with my fingertips until I found the light switch.

The room brightened.

I blinked against the sudden light and took a clear picture of my surroundings. A small table and chair stood beside the bed, while a wardrobe occupied one corner of the room. Its doors were slightly open, revealing neatly arranged women's clothes, shoes, and accessories.

I stared at them.

Women's clothes?

I stepped closer, peering inside.

"Are these for me?" I muttered foolishly.

My stupid mind immediately supplied a dozen possibilities, none of which made me feel any better.

"He's got some real s**t in here" I smiled as I felt some of the clothes.

I backed away from the wardrobe and turned towards the table

My phone and bag sat neatly on its surface.

Relief washed over me so quickly that I nearly sagged against the bed. At least my belongings were still there. I snatched up my phone and checked the screen.

2:00 a.m.

My throat ached for water and I'm gonna die if I don't get one. I desperately needed water.

I made my way towards the door.

The staircase was easy enough to find, just across from the room. I descended slowly, keeping one hand on the railing while my eyes adjusted to the dim light

At the bottom, I found myself in a spacious dining area connected to what looked like a modern kitchen. The house was so quiet that I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator.

No music. No voices.

La peace.

I crossed the room and opened the refrigerator, grateful to find bottles of water neatly arranged on one of the shelves. I grabbed one, twisted the cap open, and drank greedily.

The cool water soothed my aching throat, and I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to breathe.

Then I pulled out a chair and sank into it, resting my elbows on the table.

I needed answers.

Who he was that brought me here and if he will tell me why people allow you to love them and vanish.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear anyone approach.

"Rough night?"

A soft voice came from somewhere behind me.

My entire body stiffened.

Slowly, I turned towards the sound.