Obsession

When I got to Minah and Axel's house, I parked on the street, walked up to the front door, and lifted my hand to knock before stopping. The upstairs window was open and I could hear a familiar song, a familiar rhythm of a bedframe knocking the wall and breathy moans.

I should have called first.

My face turned red and I went to walk back to my car before hesitating.

It was a familiar song, but it wasn't their song.

I would know. I listened to Axel and Minah fuck for years. I could tell what position they were fucking in based on the pitch of Minah's cries. I could tell when Axel was about to come based solely on an almost-imperceptible change in how hard the bed frame hit the wall. And I knew without a doubt that I was listening to a cover of their song, an almost-but-not-quite version of the original, and that Axel was not featured on this particular remix.

My heart pounded as I took one step back, then another. I nearly fell off the front step before hurrying back to my car, unable to believe what I had heard. I sat in the front seat, slumping down and staring at the front door of their house.

she can't be she wouldn't she can't be cheating not on him

"Impossible," I whispered.

Minah wasn't a cheater. Minah... Minah was... Minah loved him. She had to love him, she married him, and he was... he was Axel. She married fucking Axel and she was cheating on him?

I had to be wrong, I reasoned. Maybe Axel had a cold or something, and he just didn't sound like himself.

I believed that about as much as I believed Blaine deserved a second chance.

Still, I sat in my car and stared at their house, waiting, watching, wondering, praying that what I heard was wrong. A hallucination, maybe. Just more of Cecily's crazy bullshit perverting her mind. The other option was impossible, was wrong, was the death of hope and love and all things beautiful in the world. In that house, in that room, if she was doing... love would lay bleeding in the bed, dying wherever roses lean with smiling mouths and it couldn't be. She couldn't be, Minah couldn't.

When the front door opened and Blaine walked out, I bit my lip so hard it bled, like love, like roses, like blackened betrayal and encompassing rage.

that bitch

I slumped low in the seat, only my forehead visible through the window, my eyes following as Blaine walked to his car, got in, and drove away. He didn't notice my vehicle or see me. Still, it took a long, long time before I could peel my fingers away from the steering wheel and open the door, stepping out on legs that knocked together as I walked.

When Minah answered the door, she stared at me for a moment. Her lips were still slightly swollen, her hair artfully mussed up around her head.

"Cecily?"

"Hi."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in close. I could smell him on her, the scent of sex, bitter and musky and wrong. She was supposed to smell like Axel, not like Blaine.

"Come in. I've been so worried about you."

I followed her through the house numbly, hardly listening as she spoke. She got me a glass of water and we sat at the kitchen table.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

She put a hand on her stomach. There wasn't even a hint of a swell of anything there, but she smiled demurely.

"Good, so far. It's still so early."

"Is Axel home?"

She stiffened. "No. Why?"

My heart wrenched as the final straw I grasped at slipped from my fingers.

that bitch that fucking bitch

"I need to talk to you. Just you."

Minah relaxed. Her face was as inviting and calming as always, but I knew a snake hid beneath that beauty.

"Blaine hit me," I said.

She should have recoiled, should have blanched or been shocked or appalled or something as I told her what happened. Instead, she stared at me calmly, still trying to maintain that sense of peaceful oneness she always had.

"He what?"

"He hit me. After dinner with you and Axel last week."

Minah nodded slowly, pressing her lips together.

"Blaine said... he said you got a bit physical with him when he tried to break up with you."

There was no sense in denying the truthful part of that statement.

"I hit him back, but only after he hit me. He never tried to break up with me."

"Cecily, are you sure, because I know sometimes... sometimes you aren't... well."

"You think I'm crazy? You think... you think I'm lying?"

She grimaced. "No, I just mean..."

"You don't believe me?"

"I do!" she gasped. "But Blaine... I told you, I saw the scratches on his face—"

"Yeah, that was me." I plucked a napkin from the holder in the center of the table, dipped it in my water glass, and rubbed the foundation off my cheek. "I did that after he did this."

"Cecily, I'm not saying you're lying, but..."

"...but you're fucking him, so you're taking his side."

Her mouth fell open.

"What?" she finally said.

"I saw him leave."

"That doesn't mean—"

"I heard you fucking."

"You didn't."

"I did, Minah, I fucking heard you two and I saw him leave and I can't believe you would do this!"

She stared at me, silent. The calm, beautiful, peaceful Minah I knew disappeared. For a moment, for a single fleeting breath, the golden-brown of her eyes turned molten, liquid, danger and beauty and terror, before she began to cry.

"It's not that simple," she whimpered.

"So you are."

"Yes," she hissed. "I am. Just... you don't understand."

"How long, Minah? Were you fucking him when you set us up?"

She shook her head.

"How long?"

"A couple of months."

Months. She didn't insult me by pretending that day was the first time, that it was a mistake, that it was a heated moment where she wasn't thinking. She told the truth: she'd started fucking him while he was fucking me.

"Why would you do that to me?"

Her jaw tightened. She looked almost remorseful, almost regretful, almost sad, sad in the way a hyena might look sad after ripping flesh from the bones of a gazelle.

"It's not... you two always looked so happy together," she whispered. "You were always touching and kissing and... I wanted that. Axel... he's not the same person I fell in love with."

The room spun around me. How could... she had Axel. On what planet did it make sense for her to want Blaine just because he... because we kissed in front of her? Because he was mine? Because she was... how could Minah possibly be fucking jealous? She had Axel.

"How can that... you've been married for six months. Six months, Minah, and you're cheating on him?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Her voice was weak, wavering more than mine did on a normal day. She sounded broken, honestly broken, and for a moment I felt bad for her. She was my best friend. Something was wrong, something was causing distress and pain and trouble in her life, and didn't I owe it to her to help solve that? Didn't I owe her some understanding?

I would have considered it if it wasn't for the fact that she was hurting Axel.

"So you're cheating on him? That's your solution to whatever fucked up issue you think you have?"

"You have no idea." She glared at me.

"So explain it to me."

"I... I can't."

I stared at her, stared at the hand resting lightly on her stomach, and realization dawned on me. "Oh my God, Minah. Is the baby—"

"No!" she interrupted. "It's... it's Axel's."

I stared at her, silent, trying not to judge, trying to squash the anger I was feeling on Axel's behalf, trying to refrain from shaking her and screaming and telling her what a fucking moron she was for cheating on the picture of perfection with Blaine, of all fucking people.

"Minah, why?" I urged again.

She swallowed and risked a look at me. There was helplessness in her eyes, sadness and forlorn regret and a darkness I had never seen.

"Remember when I asked you... you know how people get upset and sometimes they... I mean, you know. You just did it, too. You got upset with Blaine and you—"

"Upset? He hit me, Minah!"

"Yes but you, like, cracked, you know?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"You know Axel's seemed different over the past while." She looked at me pleadingly. "You know. You asked him about it, remember? At the... before the wedding."

There had been a scratch on his neck. He said it was from a haircut and told me to drop it. He said I was mistaken. Of course I remembered. Had he... it couldn't be. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

But I had to ask. I had to, because it was the only explanation that I could think of that would justify Minah doing what she did.

"Is he hurting you?" I whispered.

"No!" she spat. "He would never. He would never lay a fucking hand on me, understand?"

I recoiled, stupidly stunned by the sudden venom in her voice. This wasn't the Minah I knew. This wasn't my Minah, my friend, my roommate, the woman who was beautiful and sweet and peaceful. When had she become... this? When had she turned from my Minah to the crying, angry, shaking woman before me?

Worse, why hadn't I noticed?

I was supposed to be her friend.

"You need to tell him," I said. "Minah, you have to tell Axel. You can't just—"

"Tell him?" She laughed, a sound like crumpled plastic bags, and shook her head. "What, so you can swoop in and comfort him and beg at his feet for him to finally fucking notice you?"

I swallowed the pain and shook my head. Pricks of vertiginous numbness swirled through my body, dizziness that overtook the tips of my fingers and toes, shivered up my spine and through my ribs, squeezing my lungs and stomach like a vice.

she knows

Of course she knew.

"This isn't about me. If you're not going to tell Axel you've been fucking Blaine behind his back, I will."

Her eyes were wild, darting about the kitchen, and I watched as her face softened. It morphed, it changed, it transformed from a snake to a helpless baby deer. I frowned, confused, as she sobbed thinly and her voice took on a deep-seated hurt that wasn't present before. She paused, hesitated, then shook her head and sniffed.

"Cecily, why would you say such a thing?"

"Because you—"

"I'd like to know the answer to that, too."

that bitch

The water glass tipped as I spun in my chair, whirling towards the soft, gravelly voice behind me. Axel stood in the entrance to the kitchen, the bag he used to carry his laptop to and from work hanging loosely off his shoulder. He stared at me, eyes harsh and focused and hurt, and my mouth fell open.

For a long moment, he stared at me, then flicked his eyes to his wife.

"Minah?"

She didn't sob dramatically or wail or protest. She sniffed again, shook her head, and took a shaky breath.

"Cecily, I don't know what we did to hurt you, but to threaten me like this? This is beyond... I know Blaine broke up with you but I had nothing to do with it, and for you to come here and try to... try to hurt my marriage... I thought we were friends."

"I'm not... that's not..."

"What?" Axel said.

Minah looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"She said she was going to tell you I was..." Her voice cracked at the perfect moment and she shook her head. "She threatened to tell you I was cheating on you. So she could..." She paused, biting her lip. "Cecily, we can get you help."

"You can't be buying this," I finally blurted, turning to Axel. "I heard them. I heard them, Axel, and I saw him leave."

He looked from me to Minah. She stood from her chair and put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I know you're taking this hard," she said quietly. "But we know how you feel about Axel. I'm so sorry, Cecily. I didn't know it was this bad. I didn't think it would ever... we didn't think you'd try something like this."

My face went red, fire twisting through my core and turning my skin to hot coals. I was still looking at Axel, and when his eyes fell back to me full of pity and pain, I knew I had lost.

"I'm not making this up," I said desperately. "I don't care if you think... if you know... I don't care about that. She's cheating on you."

"What's more likely?" Minah's voice was gentle, making the harshness of her words even more painful. "Me deceiving you, or Cecily being in love with you? Because we already know the answer to that."

Axel didn't respond.

"She's jealous because of the baby, Axel. She told me." Minah patted my shoulder again. "You're not alone. We're going to be there for you, Cecily. We can get you help. I know a good doctor who can... he can help."

My mouth opened and closed. Axel's face was red, disgust and second-hand embarrassment written in his eyes. For a moment, all we could hear was the steady drip of the water I'd spilled dropping to the floor. Drip-drip, drip-drip, drip-drip.

"I'm going," I finally whispered.

"Let us help you," Minah pleaded, earnest and fake and sickeningly kind.

I shook her hand off me, disgusted by the snake-like way she touched me, and stood up to stride past Axel. He didn't move from the entrance to the kitchen as I approached.

"Excuse me," I said stiffly.

Axel shifted to the side but caught my elbow before I passed him. His eyes fell on the bruise that covered my cheekbone.

"What happened to your face, Cecily?"

I waited for the inevitable surge of electricity to take over me, the pathetic giddiness that always accompanied his touch, but it didn't come.

It was probably the first time I'd looked straight into Axel's eyes without that sense of entrapment, that feeling of falling, that bloom of obsession as his gaze fell on me. Instead, I felt humiliation and dejection. Crazy Cecily, Obsessed Cecily, Sick Cecily with her fucking bruised face, impercipient and naive and stupid, stupid, stupid.

"He hit me," I said, and shook his arm off.

Neither Axel nor Minah followed as I let myself out, shutting the door softly behind me.

**

I didn't have enough friends for word to spread like wildfire. It spread more like melted wax, dripping and hardening and cracking, the truth burning away until it piled up into a grotesque, uneven lump.

Still, Minah's story spread to the few friends I did have. They made sure to tell me how disgusted they were on her behalf, how gracious she was to offer to help me after I'd done so much to hurt her, how selfish and arrogant and creepy I was. Then the messages dried up, my phone stopped vibrating with angry texts and mocking voicemails, and I was alone.

I applied for unemployment payments and was rejected. I considered Minah's suggestion of seeing a doctor and rejected that myself. I didn't have that kind of money, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask Minah for help.

I huddled in my basement for a week. The air was hot and sticky, clinging to me, trapping me, enveloping me in spider's silk, but I was so cold. I put on layers of sweaters and buried myself in blankets, sweat dripping from my forehead and soaking the fabric around me, but I couldn't stop shivering.

I thought of the baby and cried when I realized I'd probably never get to meet it.

I thought of Axel and curled up into a ball, smaller and smaller, the weight of the blankets not enough to crush me as flat as I wanted them to.

The bruise faded until it was barely a stain on my cheek, like paint wiped across my skin and then washed off.

I woke one morning soaked in sweat, my hair sticking to my face, my lips cracked and dry with dehydration. I untangled myself from the blankets, peeled off two of the three sweaters I was wearing, and weakly stumbled to the kitchen.

I left the faucet running as I filled and drank and filled and drank and filled and drank glass after glass of water. I drank until my stomach was full, bloated with liquid, and my skin had become clammy and cool.

It had been two or three days since I'd eaten. There wasn't much in the fridge, but there were a couple cans of ravioli in the pantry. I opened one can and ate it cold while heating another on the stove. After burning my mouth on the second can, I stripped the rest of my clothes off and went to the shower.

I stayed under the water until it ran cold, then dried my hair and put clean clothes on. I gathered up the blankets and sweaters and put them in the wash. I wiped down the counters, swept the floor, opened the window, lit a candle.

All of this I did mindlessly, thoughts empty and blank, welcoming the numbness and using it to break free of the prison I'd put myself in. I didn't know why that day was the day it took hold, why that was the day I began pulling myself together. I didn't know why the sick thoughts in my mind had gone quiet. All I knew is I was slowly, gradually, achingly escaping the twisted cage surrounding me.

I should have realized that freeing myself left me vulnerable to being trapped by someone else.

When he knocked on my door, I had just finished making the bed. My shoulders tensed as fear slithered up my spine. It would not be good news. There was no good news. I was sure it was either my landlord threatening to evict me or Minah coming to gloat or another friend coming to shame me or Blaine coming to... to something.

I crept carefully to the door, silent, curious but terrified, intending only to look out the peephole and then steal away once I knew who it was. He knocked again and I nearly screamed.

"Cecily. I know you're home."

The words were muffled, but it was him. Quiet and flat, but not emotionless. Deep, rumbling, troubled. The only voice I'd open the door for.

Still, after unlocking the deadbolt, I opened the door cautiously. Peeking out, I saw him and only him standing there, and then forgot I was trying to open it slowly as I caught sight of his face.

There was a bruise on his cheekbone, mirroring the one fading on mine almost perfectly. More were spattered along his forehead and down the other cheek. Angry red scratches slashed his brow bone and neck, and his bottom lip was swollen and split. His eyes found mine, watching as I took in the sight, watching the stunned shock washing across my face.

"Axel?" Without thinking, I reached for him, uncertain he was real, needing to touch him to find out for sure.

He was real, but I didn't get to find out on my terms.

I yelped as he grabbed me, startled as his hands closed around my arms, and then his lips were on mine. The puffy spot that was swollen and split must have been tender, but he kissed me hard anyway. I gasped as he guided me with his body, pushing me back inside the basement, the door swinging closed behind him as he nudged me until my back hit the wall of my front hallway.

Axel was kissing me.

Axel.

I responded instinctively, my mind blank, the voices and the anger and the terror silent as I kissed him back. It was everything, it was all I wanted, him and his mouth and his body pressed to mine as he stole my lips. My body rejoiced, on fire, eager, wanting more and more and more, and I gave in. I kissed him, I touched him, I ran my hands up his arms and to his neck.

My fingers brushed along the raised scratches on his throat and I froze.

"Axel," I mumbled, trying to turn my head away from him.

He directed my mouth back to his and I struggled away again.

"Axel, stop."

He did, eyes opening as he stopped kissing me, and it took every bit of strength I ever had or ever would have again to push him away.

Mental strength, at least. Axel didn't move away from me, but he stopped touching me. He watched silently as I touched my lips with my fingertips and tried to understand what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

His jaw twitched but he didn't answer.

"Axel, what the fuck?"

"I know she lied." He was still close enough to me that his breath tickled against my lips as he spoke. "She's fucking Blaine."

It answered something, but not everything.