Obsession (Raven’s Vale Psychos #1

Chapter Four

Hollis

The door creaked open, and Riot’s hand brushed against the small of my back, urging me into a cluttered sanctuary. The stale air was thick with dust and secrets. Shelves sagged under the weight of old leather-bound books, their spines cracked and faded. In the dim light, I could see personal trinkets scattered like relics of a life I couldn’t begin to understand. He pulled a chain, and a naked bulb flickered above, casting an unforgiving glare on the walls lined with what I assumed were his memories.

“Here,” he grunted, pointing toward a stack of black journals, each one more worn than the last. “My thoughts, uncensored. If you’ve got the guts, take a peek.”

I hesitated, but curiosity was a persistent itch, demanding to be scratched. My fingers trembled as I reached for the top journal, its cover cold and smooth. Flipping it open elicited a crack from the spine that echoed through the silence.

The words leapt off the page, sick and vile, recounting deeds that would make the devil himself wince. Each sentence was a blow, each paragraph a stab, painting scenes of brutality in ink. Yet, I couldn’t stop, drawn in by the raw honesty of his savagery. It was repulsive, the way he detailed the infliction of pain with the precision of a surgeon and the glee of a child ripping wings off flies.

“Can’t handle the truth of me?” Riot’s voice sliced through the quiet.

His question hung unanswered as I turned another page, the horror unfolding before me like a car crash in slow motion -- impossible to look away from. The descriptions cut deep, leaving marks no one could see but felt down to the bone. I realized then, amidst the gore and the madness, that Riot was more than a monster -- he was a man torn apart and stitched back together with barbed wire and broken glass.

“Keep reading,” he dared, the challenge laced with something that might have been pride or maybe defiance. It was hard to tell with the shadows clinging to his face, turning his features into an unreadable mask.

So I read on, the lines blurring between disgust and fascination, the twisted words binding me to him one line at a time. Each page was a piece of Riot laid bare, and I couldn’t help but wonder if beneath the bloodshed, there was someone worth saving -- or if I was just another victim caught in his web of insanity.

It was clear he’d started these while he’d been locked up. Everyone in town heard the story of where these men came from. It wasn’t a big secret or anything. In fact, they’d used it to instill fear into all of us. I didn’t know why he’d bothered to smuggle them out when he’d been on the run. But within the pages, I learned his secrets. The things he’d suffered as a child, the way he’d been treated while locked up, and all the nightmares he’d faced -- first by himself, and later with Crash and Kane by his side.

“Did these things really happen?” I asked, glancing up. He gave a short nod. “So your parents really…”

“Yes. They really did loan me out to their friends from the age of nine to be used however they saw fit. The man who hurt me the most was my second kill. Do you want to know why?”

Did I? I wasn’t sure, but I waited to see what he’d say.

“The first woman wasn’t intentional. She’d tried to crawl into my tent when I was eight years old. I’d lured her away from the campsite and killed her, then left her for the animals to feed on. But it showed me how much I enjoyed it, and I knew I could do the same to the others.”

Others? I waited for him to continue, letting him speak and tell me as much as he wanted to. While part of me didn’t want to hear it, I thought it might give me more insight into who Riot was and what made him tick.

“I fought the first time my dad’s friend hurt me. Cried. Struggled. Did everything I could to stop it from happening. So my father held me down while the bastard shoved his cock into me. He raped me for what felt like forever.” He crept closer, squatting beside me. “I waited until I knew he’d be alone, then I snuck into his house and slit his throat while he was sleeping. That was the moment I realized a quick death was too good for the likes of him. For all of them.”

“And you went after the others next?” I asked.

He nodded. “They were all sadistic in their own ways. Perhaps I’ve always had darkness inside me. Maybe being used by those people only set it free a little sooner. Once I’d finished them off, it was my parents’ turn. Since dear ol’ dad had held me down the first time one of his friends had fucked me, I tied him up so I could start with his fingers and make the pain last. That way even in the afterlife, he wouldn’t be able to use his hands for anything. I can only hope he’s getting a taste of his own medicine down in hell.”

Bile rose in my throat. How could parents do such a horrible thing to a small child? But if he’d started out killing those who’d hurt him the worst way possible, what had changed?

“I see you have more questions,” he said. “Here. Read another one.”

I read for a while. I didn’t know how long. My neck started to ache from staring down at the pages. Snapping the fifth journal shut, I looked up at Riot, as he towered over me. I could feel his gaze burning into me.

“Spit it out,” he commanded, his tone void of warmth.

My pulse hammered against my throat, each beat screaming for me to run. But there was nowhere to go. And part of me didn’t want to escape -- not yet. “You’re not just… not just the fiend they say you are.”

“Is that sympathy I hear?” His words were a challenge, as if he dared me to feel such a thing for him.

“No.” I shook my head, forcing steadiness into my tone. “Just an observation. You’ve been through hell, haven’t you? Doesn’t excuse your sins, but it paints a fucked-up picture, doesn’t it?”

“Judgment’s easy from a distance,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur, “But you’re in the thick of my world now. Can’t ignore the blood on the walls when you’re the one splattered in it.”

“Never planned to ignore it,” I said. “But I see the cracks in your armor, Riot. I see the bastard child of pain who learned to bite before the world could swallow him whole. And I can’t blame you for the things you did back then. No one could endure so much and remain sane.”

Of course, that didn’t explain why he enjoyed killing so much now. The people in this town hadn’t done anything to him. He’d likely killed others before getting here. Had it thrilled him so much he couldn’t stop? Or like he said, had there always been darkness inside him?

A cruel grin tore across his face. “There’s no redemption here, Hollis. Just survival. And you’re neck-deep in the quicksand with me.”

“Guess we’ll see who sinks first,” I muttered. Now that I’d seen another side of him, I couldn’t paint him as a killer. Sure, he’d taken lives and continued to do so, but at one point he’d probably been an innocent child. His parents and their friends had created the monster he’d become. At least, that’s what I wanted to believe. If I held onto that thought, then it made him more human, and made it easier to swallow my attraction to him.

The world stilled as Riot’s hand reached out, a shadow moving through the gloom. His fingertips grazed my cheek with an unexpected tenderness. I leaned into his touch without thought, drawn to the warmth that belied the coldness in his eyes -- a moth fluttering recklessly toward a flame.

“Didn’t peg you for gentle,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Life’s full of fucked-up surprises,” he replied.

His thumb traced the line of my jaw. The quiet was a living thing, wrapping around us. I realized then, with a jolt that rattled my bones, the man who could snap necks like twigs had found a way to cradle my face as if it were something precious. And damn me to hell, I wanted him to hold it -- to hold me -- just a second longer. What sort of person did that make me?

“Comfortable?” he asked, the word hanging heavy between us.

“Strangely, yes,” I admitted.

“Good.” The word sounded like it was a promise of chaos yet to come.

I should’ve been scared, should’ve been planning my next move to survive. Instead, I found solace in the eye of the storm, in the heart of the beast who’d shown me a glimpse of his human side -- a side as scarred and battered as my own. Oh, I hadn’t lived through the same horror as him, but I’d also been abandoned by those who should have protected me.

“Riot,” I started, the name tasting like a sin on my lips.

“Shh,” he cut me off, his finger pressed lightly against my lips. “Don’t ruin it. Not yet.”

For a heartbeat or two, we remained locked in that impossible moment -- two broken pieces fitting together in the midst of madness. It was a fucked-up version of peace, but it was ours, and I clung to it like a lifeline.

When I’d been told I would be the sacrifice, I’d expected to die a horrible, painful death. Instead, I’d discovered The Butcher wasn’t as black and white as I’d always thought. Instead, I’d found another soul just surviving in the only way he knew how.

A bang outside the room jolted me, rupturing the silence. My pulse jumped. Riot tensed beside me, his warmth vanishing as if it had never been there at all. He was on his feet before I could blink, his hand clamping around mine with an iron grip.

“Come.” He yanked me up and dragged me toward the door. The gentle man from moments ago was gone, replaced by The Butcher, his face a mask of cold fury.

We spilled into the corridor, the dim light throwing harsh shadows across the walls. Crash and Kane loomed like specters, their eyes boring into us with the sharpness of knives.

“What’s this shit, Riot?” Crash demanded, his lip curled with disdain. “You playing house with your little pet? You don’t even let me and Kane enter that fucking room.”

Kane stood silent, but his glare cut deeper than any of Crash’s barbs, suspicion written in every line of his towering frame.

“Got a problem?” Riot’s voice was like ice.

“Since when do you keep them breathing this long?” Crash stepped closer. “Thought you were about the kill, not the thrill.”

“Seems like you’re losing your edge,” Kane chimed in, his voice a low rumble, the threat behind it clear.

“Or maybe,” Riot countered, his tone unyielding as stone, “I’m just choosing my cuts more carefully.”

What did that mean? Was I still in danger of losing my life to him?

Their gazes locked in a silent battle, the unspoken violence hanging thick between them. I stood there, caught in the crossfire, knowing I was the spark to their gunpowder. Whatever came next, it was on me -- the girl who’d looked into the abyss and dared to reach out a hand to save the monster lurking inside.

Riot’s laughter was dark and rich. “You two are pathetic. Why don’t you go snatch up some prey of your own, if you think it’s so damn easy to keep a woman alive?”

Crash’s fists clenched, veins bulging like ropes under his skin. “We aren’t amateurs, Riot. We know the game. It’s you who seems to have forgotten the rules. No attachments.”

“Sometimes rules change,” Riot said. “So the game continues, even if it’s not quite the same as before. Are you scared you can’t measure up? Or is it something else that frightens you?”

Kane’s jaw tightened. “This little sideshow of yours better not be softening you up. Not once have you ever brought a woman here. You’ve always killed them before they could make it to the house. Something is clearly different, and I don’t like it.”

I could barely breathe, my heart hammering against my ribs. Their words were razor blades tossed carelessly in the air, and I stood in the middle, praying not to get cut. It was clear now -- my existence had tilted their world off its axis. What would happen to me if they decided to retaliate? I didn’t think they’d go for Riot. Not right off. No, I’d be his weakness, and they’d do their best to destroy me.

“Enough!” Riot roared. “She’s mine to deal with, not yours. And she sure the fuck isn’t leaving until I say otherwise.”

I realized then, standing among monsters, that I had become the linchpin of madness in Raven’s Vale, the key to a door that should have stayed shut. What would happen when it burst open? Would I be the debris or the flame? And what the hell did it mean for the townspeople?

“Your pet project here,” Kane said, voice low and lethal, “it changes things, Riot. Changes everything.”

“Let it change,” Riot said. “I’m the Butcher here. Not you, not Crash. Me. They may fear all of us, but you damn well know I’m the one who makes them all sleep with one eye open.”

The air crackled with the energy of their hatred, a perverse triangle with me at the center. I was the anomaly. The wild card. And as they circled each other like rabid beasts, I couldn’t help but wonder what my presence meant for the future of this hell we called home.

I’d thought getting closer to Riot would guarantee my safety. It hadn’t occurred to me how much Crash and Kane would resent my presence here.

Crash’s fist flew at Riot. It connected with a sickening smack against Riot’s jaw, the force of the blow snapping his head to the side. For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Riot snarled, a feral sound that chilled my blood. He lunged forward, retaliating with a vicious hook that crunched into Crash’s ribs.

I cursed under my breath, backing up against the cold wall as they traded blows. The thud of flesh against flesh was a drumbeat of impending doom, each hit echoing in the tight space. I braced myself, ready to dash out of the way.

“Enough!” Kane’s voice cut through the chaos. He threw his weight between them, shoving them apart with arms that seemed made of steel. “Crash, go cool your damn head. Take a walk. Go swim. Something!”

Crash spat blood, hissing like a cornered animal, but he backed off. Kane turned to Riot, his tone dropping to a menacing growl.

“And you,” he said, jabbing a finger into Riot’s chest. “Don’t think for one second that we’ll sit back and watch you play house. Crash won’t accept it, and neither will I. She’s going to bring ruin to us all, and you fucking know it.”

Riot’s lips curled in a silent snarl, but he didn’t move. Kane gave him a long, hard look before pivoting on his heel and stalking away. At times like this, I couldn’t tell which of them was the leader. I’d thought it was Riot.

As Kane’s footsteps faded, panic clawed at my throat. Would Riot turn on me now? Kill me just to keep the twisted peace he had with Crash and Kane?

“Riot,” I whispered. “What happens now?”

“Quiet,” he snapped, not looking at me. His knuckles were bloody, his breathing ragged.

I searched his face for any sign of what he might do, my mind racing. Could I make him see that I was more than a pawn in their sick game? That I could be worth fighting for? Desperation laced through me, binding my will to survive.

Whatever it takes, I’ll make him see me as worthy of keeping. I knew if he lost interest, then I was doomed. I’d be lost to the chaos of the Raven’s Vale psychos -- another grave and nothing more. And I’d do anything to keep that from happening, even fall in love with a monster.