Page 1 of Shadowed Obsession

prologue

Deirdre

6:08 p.m. | 42 hours before ‘the incident’

Drafting a script for what may be my last words turned out to be more taxing than I had anticipated. I don’t plan on harming myself, but one could argue that’s exactly what I’m doing by engaging in this dance with death. This is how I could be remembered, and after all I’m currently known for, an opportunity to redeem myself. Only to those who truly matter, though. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.

My trembling hands clutch the weighted note like a lifeline as I attempt to not wrinkle it any further. I fumble around for the tiny remote, and my coffin-shaped acrylics make it difficult to press the record button after a few attempts. With an unsteady grip, I try until a beep resounds, followed by a red blinking light indicating the recording has started.

“My name is Deirdre Klarke, and I’d like to document my recent…experiences. Unfortunately, if you are watching this video, that means I didn’t survive.”

My eyes drop to the page, following along.

“I’d like to explain the events that have led me to carry a gun on my person at all times. Even as I sleep,” I add, pausing to swallow.

“Let this serve as a documentation of my efforts, so should you assassinate my character with your whole chest again, you’ll at least have your facts straight.Whoeverfinds this first.

“No one asked for this, but as the familyfuckup, I’m admitting I didn’t ask for your help and was willing to die in order to prove a point. I can handle myself and take pride in the fact that I stood my ground.

“This video should be used as evidence in the instance I am kidnapped or murdered. If anything happens to me, I’d like for this video to be shared with my parents, Elgin and Dorothea Klarke. I ask that you donotshow this to Darius Klarke or Regina Delvecchio and donotinvolve the police.”

The page crinkles as my hands continue to shake, but I take a breath and power on.

“I felt I was being watched for the past few weeks and tried to convince myself it wasn’t true until I found a microphone planted inside my home. I can’t say what has made me a target, but I suspect it’s either an enemy of my family or my late ex-boyfriend.ThatI’d also like to address.

“I didnotkill Lawrence Wiley, and if killing me is your plan to avenge him, you’ve made a fucking mistake. If this is regarding my family, they’ll find you, and I hope you’re prepared for it,” I state, and the uneasiness in my voice subsides as I share my truth.

“When I returned from a trip earlier this month, a scent lingered throughout the house. Citrus, wood, and smoke. Two weeks later, it still remains. I then noticed my spare house key was missing, and I’ve been on high alert since.

“A few days later, I was greeted by the scent again as I settled into my SUV, where I discovered a full gas tank, knowingI hadn’t left it that way. It was on my to-do list, and when I checked to make sure that I wasn’t losing my mind, it had been marked as completed.

“This person has been in my home since, and while I haven’t had thepleasureof confronting them, I promise to make my family proud when I do.

“Earlier this week, my camera notified me of movement detected in the backyard. This stranger had the audacity to sit on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water, dressed in black, their face covered, legs exposed. They’re large in stature, like a linebacker, and with deep-brown skin. I can only assume this person was a man.

“I spoke to him through the microphone in the app and was ignored. He didn’t react to my voice and continued to relax. Shortly after, he left and my cameras failed to capture views of him beyond that angle,” I continue, my voice laced with anger and regret.

“I’ve never had many enemies, but I can assure that I will continue to document my experiences up until this threat is eradicated. Should I fail and disappoint you once again, mom and dad, I am terribly sorry. You instilled so much in me and—” I pause, my voice quivering under intense emotions I had yet to fully acknowledge until this moment. “I hope I’m not your biggest regret. Maybe grandma was one of a kind and her bravery couldn’t be duplicated.” My eyes sparkle with unshed tears in the viewfinder as I clear my throat, pushing the emotions down as best I can.

“Please tell Darius that I’m sorry I didn’t ask for help. He would never let me suffer, but I needed to do this on my own. Tell Regina that I’m still angry, but I forgive her. To my parents, I love you and always dreamt of being a mother so I could love my children as much as you love us,” I say, taking a deep breath to collect myself.

“I love you all. Goodbye,” I finish as I scramble to end the recording before my face crumples.

Tears stain my lap, my hands swiping to remove them as quickly as they came. What should be a private moment isn’t, now that I have an audience. I left a few things out of that script intentionally, because it would only prove them all right. Danger follows me and I’ve been too distracted to acknowledge it…until now.

The man who walks in my shadow both frightens and excites me. It’s a delicate dance between the two emotions, one that causes me pause when I think about ending his life in order to survive this. The guilt would be all-encompassing, but thereisa certain thrill to his chase.

Two dings interrupt this moment, and I brace myself as I reach for my phone. Two messages from the man I’ve come to know as Scar. I don’t know his real name, but I am aware that he’s become a constant presence in my periphery. I’m certain he just heard everything and has some critiques about my performance. I swipe to open our thread.

Scar

That was a bit dramatic, Doe.

You like being watched.

A chill spreads through me, and I stare at the message for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

What gave you that impression?

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