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Arrogantly Obsessed Excerpt

“Daddy? What happened? Why is there so much blood?” It’s terrifying watching my only living parent storm through the house with blood splattered across his chest, neck, and face.

“Please, Daddy, what happened?” I plead, but he won’t look at me.

Banging on the front door startles me into dropping my dinner plate. The shattering dish is followed up with the front door being kicked in and a dozen police officers piling into our tiny house.

“Oliver Henderson, on your knees!” someone screams.

“I’m sorry, princess,” I hear him murmur before cold steel presses at my throat, and we’re slowly faltering backwards. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll kill her.” I hear the words, but they don’t register.

“Put the weapon down and let the girl go,” a stern voice calls out.

“Daddy?” I cry. Even if my eleven-year-old brain can’t understand what’s happening, my intuition has picked up on it. “Daddy, please. You’re hurting me.” I can feel what I now understand is a knife digging into my flesh.

Lifting my fingers to touch what shouldn’t be real, they come away stained in blood.

My blood.

“Please don’t kill me, Daddy,” are the last words I say before the blade digs deeper, and I can feel the blood draining from the wound in my neck.


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