Endless Obsession: Episode 1 - 20 (Season 1)???? : TOPSTER STORIES

Endless Obsession – Episode 20

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Episode 20









I don’t want to believe that. But it could just be me being naive with my desperate need to belong to and be wanted by someone.





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I don’t know what to say to him, or how to react to his words. I want to belong to someone so fiercely that they would do anything for me, but not to the point of hurting me, or keeping me against my will.







As my mind runs rampant with several different ways this could pan out, my eyes get caught by my dresser. The top drawer is pulled out slightly with a piece of silky material hanging out over the edge. I always close my drawers, especially my top drawer because it holds my bras and panties. The last thing I want is my panties sticking out for anyone to see if they pass by my bedroom. I didn’t notice if it was open this morning because I always pull clothes out the night before for the next day. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a kid.






Sterling says something in my ear, but I’m completely focused on that drawer. With a frown, I walk to my dresser. Did Sterling go through my things last night before he left? And if he did, why? Does he have some type of panty fetish?


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I lift my hand, surprised that it’s unsteady, and pull the drawer out the rest of the way. It’s a mess inside. I always keep my panties and bras separated and folded nicely and in stacks of silk and lace. It’s all a jumbled mess. It looks like someone was rifling around in my stuff.







“Poppy,” Sterling snaps loudly in my ear, reminding me he’s still on the phone. I jump slightly with his raised tone.






“Did you go through my dresser before you left last night?” I ask.






“No, why? What in the hell is going on?” he demands.







I probably shouldn’t, but I believe him. Therefore, I give him an answer.







“It looks like someone went through my underwear drawer. I always close it, but it was open and everything is misplaced.”






“Are you sure you closed it? Maybe you were in a rush and forgot,” he suggests.









I look through the contents to try to see if anything is missing. I flick through everything and notice my favorite lavender pair of panties are gone. The matching bra is still there, but not the panties. I try to think back to the last time I wore them.



They could be in the dirty clothes; I wore them just three days ago. I thought I had washed them yesterday, but I could be wrong.







“I guess I could have left it open. But I always make sure to close the drawer. I have to be wrong, right?”







I wait for Sterling to reassure me. There’s no other explanation. Why would someone come into my house, go through my panty drawer, and steal a pair? Do people really do that? And if so, who and why? I must have forgotten to close it. My mind was still occupied with Sterling, so it’s definitely possible.







“I’m sure you just forgot. Look, I’ve got to go. I still have to pack. I’ll call you tonight.”






Okaaay. His abrupt change in attitude has me confused, his tone almost angry.






Before he has a chance to hang up, I call his name.










“Yes, Beautiful?”







That’s better. The soft note is back. I don’t like him sounding angry. I know I shouldn’t care anymore and should nip whatever is happening between us in the bud, especially after what he revealed a few minutes ago, but I do care. It’s not something I can simply turn off.




“You owe me a letter.”






He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “K. I’ll talk to you tonight.”







“Have a safe trip, Sterling.”






“I will, Beautiful.”







I pull the phone from my ear after we hang up, feeling weird about our conversation. We go from talking about Asher, to his family and my impending meeting with them, to his possessive and assuredness that I’ll want to be with him, to him being angry. All in the span of ten minutes.







I spend the next several minutes pulling everything out of the drawer and taking them to the washer, still feeling certain I wouldn’t have left it in its current state,



let alone left the drawer ajar, but I must have,right? Even so, I decide to wash them anyway. They just feel dirty to me now.







I push the thought away and think about the letter Sterling gave me. I now have five letters to work with. AESRK. Still too many possibilities out there. I want to kick myself for not finding out who he was last night when I had the chance. I stood there and just watched him, instead of making my feet move to his car. I know deep down he wouldn’t have stopped me. I could have easily opened his car door and the mystery would have been solved.







Once I’m finished with the drawer, I take off my jewelry and place the items in the small jewelry box, then pull the clips from my hair. I grab a cami and short set from the second drawer down and go to the bathroom.




Ten minutes later, I walk out of the bathroom with my wet hair wrapped in a towel on top of my head. I grab my phone from the dresser and walk to the kitchen, where I make a cup of chamomile tea and put some fruit in a small bowl from the tray in the fridge. I bring the tea, bowl, and my phone to the living room and plop down on the couch.






I grab a piece of pineapple with my fingers and slip the tart fruit between my lips. Putting the bowl beside me on the couch, I pick up the paper. I scan through the top stories on the front page and read all the current news. I’m several pages in when a picture captures my attention. My hands start to shake and pain lances my chest at the black and white picture of the old building. It’s the hardware store my family ran for years. The owners are set to bulldoze the building down next month so they can rebuild a new and improved building for a clothing store chain.




Tears slip silently down my face. The building is no longer mine, but there was comfort in knowing it was still there. I have so many memories of the hardware store. I practically grew up there. My parents had an old school desk in one of the back rooms for me to sit at and do my homework. I remember the first time they let me help stock the shelves. I felt like such a big girl and was so proud that I was able to put in my time just like my parents. It was a second home to me.






I still sometimes drive by the store and sit out in the parking lot in my car and let the memories wash over me. I won’t be able to now. It’ll be torn down and replaced. It’s just a building, but it still feels like another important part of me will be ripped away.






I clutch the newspaper in my tight fist and with a strangled yell, I throw it. The pages break apart and it doesn’t go very far. Not satisfied, I grab my bowl of fruit and chuck that across the room too. It crashes against the wall, the few pieces of fruit left landing on the floor. I bring my feet up on the couch, wrap my arms around my legs and rest my cheek against my knees.






My eyes land on the picture I have hanging on the wall of my parents and me. I stare at it as the pain of losing them filters in and takes hold of me once again.








I gaze out at the open field, my mind in turmoil and my body feeling antsy. I check my phone for what feels like the thousandth time, relieved I haven’t missed a call from Rex. My nails dig into my palms from balling my hands into fists to keep



from punching something, namely the person who broke into Poppy’s house. The panicked look on her face when she thought someone had rifled through her dresser pops in my head. My jaw hurts from clenching it so tightly. It took pure force of will to keep from going to her right then. Even though I tried to reassure her that she


had forgotten to close her dresser drawer, I knew that wasn’t the case. After watching her for almost a year, I know her habits. That drawer is always in pristine condition—I should know—and she always, always, closes every drawer. It’s a compulsive habit of hers.






That night, as soon as I hung up with her, I didn’t pack like I told her I was. Instead, I pulled up the video feed on my computer from the night before and watched from the moment I left and fast forwarded until four hours later, when some dead fu.cker broke into her house. He came in through her back door and went straight to her room. The bastard stood there and watched her sleep. My stomach churned and rage had my blood pumping hot when he pulled the sheet down her body, until she was completely bare to him. He stood there for ten minutes and just watched her. He had a hood on and kept his head down and away from the camera the entire time, like he knew where the devices were and avoided them. He looked to be about six feet tall and of average build. That’s all I fu.cking got. Nothing I can use to help identify him.






After watching Poppy sleep, he moved to her bathroom. There are no cameras in there, so I couldn’t see what he did. A couple minutes later, he came out and went to her dresser and pulled out the top drawer. He thumbed through it for a bit, until he pulled out a pair of panties, held them to his nose, then stuffed them into his pocket. Then the sick fu.ck proceeded to take out several pair and lick the crotch. Bile rose in my throat, and I picked up the nearest item on my desk, which happened to be a paperweight, and chucked it across the room. I now have a hole in my wall that I need to fix when I get home.




I was just getting ready to call Poppy and tell her to wash all the items in her drawer when I saw her from the live feed on my phone, tossing everything in her washer, along with a generous amount of detergent.






Good girl.







If it were up to me, I’d have tossed them all. After this week, they will be, and I’ll be buying her a drawer full of new bras and panties.






After the bastard got done with her panties, he walked back to the bed. Fury like I’ve never felt before had my body locking up tight as he got on the bed, carefully straddling Poppy while she laid na.ked, leaned down, and started sniffing her along her neck, chest, stomach, and between her thighs. His body never touched hers, but the thought of him so close to her made me want to commit murder. Several minutes later, he got up and walked out.






It wasn’t lost on me that the freak wasn’t doing much more than what I’ve done. The difference between me and him is the fact that Poppy is mine. I may have put cameras in her house and have done some pretty dirty shit myself, but I would never lay a hand on her in a hurtful manner or force her to do something she didn’t want to do. Besides brushing her hair to the side, I would never touch her without her knowledge or permission. I may persuade or coax, but never force. Even through the camera and miles away from me, I could feel the menace radiating off the man in Poppy’s room. He’s not someone that knows the limits, or would take Poppy’s feelings or well-being into account. He wanted to take her away from me, and would do anything to do it. He doesn’t realize who he’s fu.cking with.







With shaky hands, I pulled the live feed up and saw that Poppy was in the bathroom with the door closed. Once I was satisfied she was alone in the house, I called Rex. He’s a good friend of mine that owns a security and PI firm. I told him what had happened and had him put two guys on Poppy at all times. He’s called several times with updates. Luckily, the man that broke into her house hasn’t been back. Through Rex’s company and myself, I plan to find out who this guy is. He’ll learn soon that no one fu.cks with what’s mine.

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“Uncle Ash, what are you doing out here?”







I wipe the thoughts that have my body taut and turn to face my niece. My heart aches every time I see her familiar face. It reminds me of someone I used to know.







“Hey, Kia Bear.” I hold my arm out and she comes over and tucks her side against mine. “Did you like everything you got for your birthday?”







She looks up at me with her big blue eyes and smiles. “I did. Especially the tickets you got me.”






She’s been obsessed with Maroon 5 for years. I got her and a few of her friend’s


VIP tickets to one of their concerts with some of the best seats in the house.


They’ll get to meet the band after the show. Her mom, Bea, another big fan, was



excited as well because her and Owen have to chaperone. I paid a pretty penny for them, but it was worth it to see the beautiful smile on her face.






I kiss the top of her strawberry blonde hair and give her a squeeze.







“Have you decided which friends you’ll be taking?” I ask. The girl is popular and has tons of friends.






“Yeah, I think so. Mindy is my best friend and would kill me if I didn’t take her,” she laughs. “And I’m gonna bring Amy and Terri. The last one, I’m not sure yet.”






“Just make sure you stick close to your mom and Dad, okay? It gets pretty crazy at those things.”






“We will.”







She reaches out and runs her fingers along the wooden railing of the porch, a


pensive look on her face. She wants to say something. I give her a few minutes to think it through.



“Can I ask for some advice?” she asks, sounding unsure.







I bring her to the patio set and sit her down on one of the chairs, before turning one to face her and taking a seat.






“You know you can ask my anything, Kia Bear.”







She drums her fingers on the table, then picks up the small bowl that’s sitting on the center. She rolls it from one hand to the other.






I grab her hands and take the bowl from her.






“Kia, sweetie, what’s wrong?”







She keeps her head down and mumbles


something so low, I can’t hear her. I lift her chin, but her eyes still don’t meet mine.







“I didn’t hear you,” I tell her softly.







Her eyes look to mine, slip away, and then I see the strength I know she’s capable of when she looks back again.






“There’s a boy at school that I really like, but I don’t know if he likes me.”







I know Kia is fourteen, and probably big into boys right now, but I still don’t like the thought of her getting involved with them, especially boys her age. I’ve been their age before and know what’s going through their one-track minds. Their bodies are running on pure hormones and think of only one thing when surrounded by girls.






I want to tell Kia she’s too young to be thinking about boys, but I know that would only make her more interested in them. She’s a good kid, makes good grades, has her head on straight, and already knows what she wants to be once she leaves school, but I know she’s growing up, even if I wish it wasn’t true.






Why she’s coming to me with this instead of Bea or Owen, I have no idea, but I need to tread carefully. She watches me while I think of what I should tell her. Girls her age are so impressionable and she looks up to me, so what I tell her needs to be the right.






“What’s this boy’s name?” I ask.













“Tell me a little about him?”







I not only ask to help with my answer, I also want to know for purely selfish reasons.




I want to make sure this Noah kid is worthy of my niece.







Kia’s eyes turn dreamy when she starts talking.







“He makes good grades and doesn’t cause trouble at school. This is his first year at my school. He and his parents moved here from Boston. His dad is in the military. He’s funny and makes all the kids laugh.” She stops for a minute and drops her eyes from mine again, telling me I’m not going to like what she says next. “And he’s in ninth grade,” she finishes on a whisper.






I inwardly groan. This is why she came to me instead of her parents. She knows her dad would flip his lid if he knew she was interested in a boy that was in a grade higher than her. I don’t fu.cking like it either. It’s worse than I thought, because the older the boy is, the more sex is on his mind.














“But we’re the same age. He has an early birthday, and I have a late birthday. That’s the only reason I’m not in ninth grade. Please, Uncle Ash. I really, really, like this boy,” she pleads earnestly.













I really need to work on this pull Kia has on me. I wasn’t lying when I told Poppy I could never say no to her. It’s been that way since the day she was born.






And damn the school system for being different. Whereas most school districts have sixth, seventh, and eighth grade as middle school, the one here includes ninth grade. Stupid board of education has to make my life more difficult.






I lean forward, rest my elbows on my knees, and scrub my hands down my face.


When I sit back up, Kia has an anxious look on her face.







“Your parent’s are going to kill me. You know that, right?”







Her answering smile has my own lifting up. I clasp my hands together, bring my pointer fingers up to my lips and think for a minute.






“Okay. Have you talked to this Noah?”




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Her nose scrunches up. “Sort of.”







“What do you mean ‘sort of’? You either have or you haven’t.”







“Well, I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times, but I just don’t know what to say. There was one time I had to ask him to pass the pastel paints in art class. Does that count?” she asks, hopeful.







I chuckle. “I’m going to tell you a secret.” I lean forward and usher her closer with my finger. She moves to the edge of her seat, looking very solemn. I barely hold in my laugh at her serious expression.






“Boys like it when girls talk to them.” Her face drops, like she’s disappointed in my advice. “That may not be what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. Did you ever



think that Noah may be in the same boat as you? Maybe he likes you just as much as you like him, but he doesn’t know it because you won’t talk to him?”







She sits back in her chair, and in true teenager fashion, crosses her arms over her chest and pouts.






“Well, why do I have to be the brave one?




Why can’t he talk to me first?”






“Because boys his age are cowards.”







“What do I say to him?”







I shrug. “Whatever you want to.” I give her one more piece of advice, one I prefer she takes, but know she won’t. “Or you can let the whole thing go and forget about him. Boys are stupid anyway. You don’t need them in your life.”






The only response I get from that is an eye roll.



“Do you think you could talk to Mom and Dad about Noah going to the concert with us?”






The extra ticket she wasn’t sure about.







I should have seen this coming. This girl is really going to get me killed. Bea and I are close, and I’m sure I could talk her into it, but Owen is a different story. He’s extremely protective of his girl, with good reason. When Poppy and I have girls, I know I’ll be the same way. There’s no way anyone could talk me into letting my fourteen-year-old girl go out on a date. Maybe I’ll allow her to go once she reaches thirty.













“I’ll see what I can do.” At her hopeful expression, I continue. “But, I can’t promise anything.”







She squeals as she gets up from her chair and launches herself at me. She lands in my lap and throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She punctuates each thank you with a kiss to my cheek. “I love you, Uncle Ash.”






“Love you too, Kia Bear.” I ruffle her hair. “Now, go back inside before your friends think you are neglecting them.”







She jumps up and bounces on her feet to the back door. Before she pulls it open, she turns back around. “Gammy was looking for you earlier.”







I nod and she goes back inside. I get up from the chair and turn back to face the backyard, resting my hands against the railing. My mind wanders back to Poppy. As much as I love my family, I really don’t want to be here. I’d much rather be back in Atlanta, especially with what happened last night. The only thing keeping me here is knowing Rex has Poppy’s back. I have every confidence that Rex and his men will keep her safe. He’s the only one that I trust enough to get the job done right. And between him, his crew, and me, I’ll find out who this fu.cker is and he’ll regret the day he decided to fu.ck with her.












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