Page 9 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

But at least she’s far from him.

At least…

Ren can’t hurt her.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I roll back onto the cold ground, naked and captured. The chill seeps into my bones, but I don’t move. A chuckle escapes past my lips—dry, humorless. If the fucker thinks this time I wasn’t prepared, he has something else coming. Let him think he’s won. Let him believe I’m broken. I might have left his studio physically, but mentally, I remained chained up. I was never truly free.

The moment I learned his body wasn’t where we left it that night and realized he was still out there, I had a feelingit would always end this way, that it was inevitable I knew I was on borrowed time. Every day that passed was just another second stolen before he came back to collect. He will finish what he started. I can feel it in my gut.

This is why I sued his estate, and got my sister as far away as I could from me… from him. She’s the only thing that matters. I wanted to be prepared for when the devil came back to drag me to hell, but this time, I refuse to go quietly. This time, I will make sure Gabby is kept safe and he’s put down for good, even if I have to sacrifice myself in the process.

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. I could move, crawl to the small mattress on the ground, but what’s the point? He wants to break me, but there’s nothing left to break. There’s no fear left in me, no fight for survival. I welcome death if it means keeping her safe, because that’s all I have left now.

Protecting her from falling apart.

It took me a while to get her to feel safe–to piece her back together–along with the help of theguy she’s been talking to. A good man. At least, I hope he is. With what little I know, he seems steady, strong, and hopefully, he will keep her safe and far away.

I know she must be worried that I didn’t show up, but I warned her. Told her that if I vanished, she had to trust me. That I would find my way back.

But as much as Ren had unfinished business with me, I did as well. And that’s the god’s honest truth.

Let’s see who wins this battle, because this isn’t just a fight—it’s the end. Only one of us, or maybe neither of us, will walk out of this breathing.

His obsession with me led him to my sister.

It started with me.

And it will end with me.

Chapter Six

Ren

It’s day two of the week-long deprivation of light… of human contact, of food. I’ll deprive him of everything until there’s nothing left but me. I want him to need me, to crave me in the way I have craved him. Just like I have since that fucking day we met.

My obsession with my Thorn started long before I was inside him, long before I even touched him. All it took was the wild look on his face, the way his presence filled the room as he stepped into that small office, dressed in orange and bound. Even then, he belonged to me. Ever since that day, I’ve wanted nothing more than him andto mold him, to carve him, to create him in different ways.

From the hidden camera in the bunk, I watch him puke nothing but bile onto the ground. His body convulses, shaking, and for a moment, I was worried I had to intervene. But luck, or maybe the devil, intervened instead. He shifts onto his side, just barely avoiding choking on his own vomit. Good boy.

I continue to watch him as I sip on my coffee, its warmth doing nothing to settle the hunger gnawing at me—but not for food. The eggs and bacon in front of me sit untouched. I can’t stomach it, not with him like this. In a way, I’ve become just as much of a prisoner as he is. This isn’t just his torture, it’s mine too.

The buzz of my phone pulls my gaze away from the frame, but not for long. Having my Thorn back has awakened something in me, something I thought had dulled in his absence. He’s my muse, as true as he will be my greatest piece to date. My fingers twitch with the need to paint him—his suffering, his submission, the moment he finally realizes there is no world beyond me.

A smile curls at the corner of my lips as I bring my elbows to the desk, clasping my hands together. The lesson is ready. The stage is set. I watch for a while longer as he lays motionless on the ground, one hand resting on his abdomen, the other beneath his head. That infuriating will of his. Still fighting, even with the situation he’s in. No fear. No surrender. Nothing.

He gives me nothing.

But I will take everything.

Even if I have to force it.

Pushing away from the desk, I stand, leaving the office in frustration. My feet carry me toward the bathroom before I even make the decision. Not even having him here could banish her from my mind. That sickness that creeps up whenever I lay in a bed, whenever I step into the shower. She haunts me.

My soul—if I have one—feels out of my body as I slip out of my sweats, and continue dragging myself into the bathroom as if I don’t have control of my own limbs. My hand moves on its own—learned. Turning the water to the hottest setting, I stare at the plum-coloredtiles, my vision locking onto the crack in the corner. The same place my eyes always go.

I hear the sound from inside my room—the sharp, angry voices that have been ongoing since last night.

“You are too suffocating,” my father yells at my mother. “Overbearing.”

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