Her ObsessionChapter 125
Her Obsession
Chapter 125
SageThe house has gone quiet, the night fully settled over everyone, except me. Conner’s arm is heavy over my waist, his breathing slow and even against the back of my neck. For a while, I just lie there, watching the faint flicker of the hallway light sneaking under the door, trying to convince myself to stay still. But that damn folder won’t leave me alone. It’s been sitting on Conner’s desk all day like a ghost of its own, taunting me, whispering questions I don’t want to answer. I told him that girl wasn’t me. That I buried her a long time ago. And I meant it. But curiosity has a way of clawing through old scars. I slide gently out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. He stirs once, mutters something in his sleep, then stills again. I pull one of his shirts over my tank top, padding barefoot through the hall and down the stairs. The floorboards creak, the air cooler this time of night, carrying the scent of smoke from the dying fire in the lounge. The familiar hum of servers fills the space as I enter Nico’s space, like a low heartbeat, blue lights blinking across tangled cords and papers. I flick on the small desk lamp and sink into the chair.The chair creaks softly as I settle into it, tugging Conner’s shirt tighter around my shoulders. The fabric smells like him and I almost stop right there. Almost. But the folder’s already open, the screen glowing in front of me like a wound that refuses to close. I type in the access string, and the files spring to life, my file. The name still feels like a lie sitting on someone else’s tongue. But I click anyway. There’s a list of subfolders, medical records, development logs, behaviour reports, and one labelled Guardianship. My hand hesitates for half a heartbeat before clicking. Two faces blink up on the screen. A man and a woman. Mid–thirties at the time. Smiling. Too ordinary to belong to the kind of nightmare that followed. My stomach knots as I scroll down to the report beneath the photo. The text is neat and cold, every line a knife.Subject voluntarily
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