Obsessively Yours Read online

  ‘You will never understand the damage you did to someone until the same thing is done to you.

  That’s why I’m here.’

  -Karma.

  Chapter One

  Five years, seven months and approximately 12 weeks. That’s how long I had devoted… no wasted my life on him; Adam Booth, the guy I thought I’d marry. We met in college when we were both 18. He was the nerdy bookworm, always studying and shying away from the crowds. I was the social butterfly, most popular girl on campus; Ella Reid always ready to party. My how times have changed! I don’t think I’d even recognise that girl now. Where has my confidence and self-assuredness gone? Well to be totally honest with you he took it; day by day, week by week, a gradual grinding down of my identity and purpose, slowly being replaced by what he wanted me to be. A perfect wife to manage his life, the ideal arm candy for any social gathering but always knows her place, or so he thought.

  We met one day in the local coffee shop. He was sitting at a table, laptop open and writing an essay about a part of the human body or some diseases that prospective medical students study. I was loaded down with my bags and feeling flustered from the summer heat, panicking that it would make my naturally blonde curly hair go frizzy. It was at that exact moment, as I was blowing a stray curl from my eyes, that I crashed into the customer in front knocking their cappuccino all over the floor and making a huge spectacle of myself. One thing I’ve always been is clumsy, and this was just one in a long line of mishaps I had and still have often. The guy in front shouted and flayed his arms about, the barista joined in telling me in no uncertain terms that I’d need to pay for it all, and Adam had been the only one to come to my assistance. He paid for the guy’s coffee and brought him another one, helped to clean up the mess, and then offered me a drink and a friendly ear to take away the embarrassment that had taken hold of my beetroot red face since the whole debacle unfolded. I thought he was perfect, my knight in shining armour. A guy with principles and integrity. It’s amazing what people don’t know that goes on behind closed doors.

  I started seeing Adam regularly soon after that. I shunned my friends and social circles to be with him, support him and I quickly fell in love with him and how dedicated and determined he was to become a doctor. He had such a caring way about him and he treated me like a princess. My friends hated him though, they said he was too controlling. Why wouldn’t he let me go out clubbing or dancing? What was his problem? They thought he locked me away to keep me under his command, that he was brainwashing me into some sort of clone of the perfect girlfriend he wanted. I didn’t see any of that, all I saw was someone I loved who loved me back and took care of me in a way that I wasn’t used to. He wasn’t bothered if I wore make up or not, he was just as happy with us in our pyjamas watching a movie, than going to the latest trendy club. I suppose alarm bells should have rung, when he’d give little sly comments that maybe a skirt was too short, or my outfit too sexy, but I just took it as the usual boyfriend response. Jealous, possessive and wanting to keep me for himself in a cute non-threatening way.

  And so it was, over time I completely lost my life to him. My friends all drifted away, fed up of trying to talk sense into me, telling me it wasn’t healthy for me to spend all my time with one guy, and not have time for friends, social stuff or even family. I lost everyone except my two dearest and most loyal friends of all, Robyn and Chris, my saving graces and reason I am still relatively sane today. They were always there in the background, almost as if they were waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces when the shit hit the fan, and hit the fan it most surely did.

  I followed Adam to university, his choice of course, as it had the best medical training in the country. My course in business studies with a focus on advertising was just a side-line, a fancy to keep me busy until we were married and I popped out some babies. He never took my studies seriously, and if I tried to talk to him about what I’d been doing he switched off or glazed over, doing that thing guys do where they pretended to listen but really they’re thinking about a ball game, or work, or in Adam’s case some nurse he’d no doubt screwed the night before.

  What scares me the most is how I might never have found out, and I could have married that asshole. It was only through sheer luck that I stumbled across his laptop still open and running on his desk one night after he’d left for another long night shift at the hospital. Going in to shut it down I saw the emails first, and my heart just sank. Scrolling down and seeing the email addresses jump off the screen I thought I’d throw up. Bustyblonde19@blah blah blah, Hotchick22@wherever, you get the picture. I opened one and what I saw froze my heart. Messages about the hot time they’d had after doing a night shift together, and notes to say thanks for the hook-up let’s do it again some time. There were dozens of them and not all from the same girls. I thought it couldn’t get worse until I opened one with an attachment, pictures and videos of what they’d been doing made me run to the bathroom and throw up for real this time. What the hell was going on and why hadn’t I seen this coming? Sure he worked long hours, he was months away from his first residency post. Yes he came home showered and clean but he always insisted he’d been to the gym beforehand and I had no reason to doubt him, did I?

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been so trusting, but I never thought in a million years that he would do this to me. Everyone always said how besotted he was with me. On the rare occasions he took me out at night he wouldn’t let me out of his sight, but now I look back and think, was that because he didn’t want to leave me alone for someone to tell me the truth?

  What I did next was out of character for me. The old me, the pre-Adam me would have smashed things, screamed and kicked off big style, but no. I did the opposite, I left the laptop where it was, went to bed and thought long and hard about my next move. I had no more fight left in me. His narcissistic tendencies had eaten me up, spit me out and left me hollow. When he came home later that morning I pretended to be asleep so I could avoid his lecherous hands. God knows where they had been the night before.

  Later that morning as he slept, I printed off his emails and left them scattered all over the kitchen table along with a letter from me telling him he was the biggest piece of shit I had ever known, and that I wouldn’t be wasting another second on his sorry ass. I packed up my clothes as quickly as I could without waking him and grabbed anything else I’d need. I left the rest behind, I couldn’t get away fast enough.

  It still makes my blood boil to this day to think about the last thing he shouted down to me when he awoke, as I dropped my key into the bowl on the side table and opened the door for the last time.

  “Babe, I’ve got no clean socks in my drawer, did your lazy ass forget to put a wash on?” Was he serious?

  “Do your own sodding laundry!” I muttered under my breath, as I pulled the door shut and strode purposefully down the path; minus my keys but definitely with my dignity intact.

  Chapter Two

  So where did I go from there? Well, that’s where Robyn and Chris came in. My guardian angels in dodgy Lycra and fake leather. As I said before they had always been in the background; there to listen and offer help if I needed it. Boy did I need it back then. I rang Robyn on my mobile and she answered on the third ring.

  “Hey chick, what’s up? Coming out with us soon or what cuz you really need a night out you never go out like EVER…..” She laughed, and I could just picture her eyes rolling in an irritated but innocent way.

  I’d known Robyn since we were five years old. She was that quirky kid in school who always stood out, you know the one who pushes the boundaries and customises their school uniform to make it look edgy and cool just because she can. She still had bright red hair, only now it wasn’t tied up in bunches or br
aids but cut short and spikey. Her frame was short and petite but what she lacked in stature she made up for in temper. Man that girl could throw a hissy fit. I had seen grown men cower when her heckles were raised. You did not want to cross our Robyn she was a force to be reckoned with. Luckily for me she never directed that anger my way, in fact she was always mega protective of me. God forbid she ever got her hands on Adam though, he wouldn’t be capable of cheating ever again if she did.

  “Babes talk to me I’m freaking out here.” she said, her voice laced with concern.

  “Robyn I need a favour, could I crash at yours for a few days?” I asked.

  “Oh my God Ella of course you can crash, in fact you can stay indefinitely babes, you know I have a spare room and I need a roommate to share the rent. Chick…..what’s happened though…are you ok? Has that asshole finally shown his true colours? You know I will beat the shit out of him if he’s hurt you.”

  “I’m okay Robyn honestly, I’ll tell you when I see you I can’t talk about it over the phone.” I sighed.

  “Okay well there’s a spare key under the plant pot on the left by the front door if you want to go over now, I’ll be back about six tonight, will you be able to talk then? I’ll bring wine home with me!”

  “Yeah sure” I whispered, “and Robyn….bring more than one bottle, I think we’re gonna need it.”

  So that’s how I went from popular girl, to brainwashed girlfriend, to what I am now. In fact, I’m not really sure what I am now. Single girl, 24 years old and still trying to find myself, the old me, and build a life that I can be proud of. A life that doesn’t revolve around a man or his career and certainly doesn’t involve cheating loser assholes.

  I’m not short and quirky like Robyn, and I’m not supermodel tall either. Five foot six and long curly blonde hair, I suppose I don’t look too bad. My friends always harped on about their body hang ups and how lucky I was not having to worry about those things. Sure I had my hang ups just like the rest of us, but I suppose my figure wasn’t one of them. I’m skinny but with good curves and boobs but that’s all genetics; Good genes inherited from my Mum’s side of the family.

  My Mum is a free spirit type. She’s in her forties but looks half her age and is currently somewhere in Thailand with husband number four. Once I was old enough to walk she left me with my Nanna Jean to travel the world and ‘find herself’. She’s still looking the last I heard, but I don’t feel bitter. I got to spend my childhood with my Nanna, my hero and best friend in the whole world. I wouldn’t change a thing about my childhood but my adult life needs some serious renovation.

  I’ve been staying in Robyn’s spare room now for two months, and loving every minute of it. It’s an old Georgian two bedroom terraced house situated just outside the city but close enough for work and socialising. My room is at the back of the house with a small double bed, wardrobe and drawers for my things. It might not sound like a lot, but its mine, all mine and no guy can take it from me. The look is kind of boho chic meets thrift shop, which is the extent of my finances right now. I have my own small ensuite with toilet, sink and shower, which is a Godsend on nights out because Robyn is the slowest and messiest girl ever at getting ready. She has to unload every lipstick she owns into the sink before she finds the right shade of red to go with her outfit. She can empty a whole can of mousse or hairspray in one go, and don’t get me started on her fake tan. Yes I love her, but she’s a pig when it comes to being tidy.

  That’s where Chris comes in handy. Chris my partner in crime and gay best friend. He always tells me ‘every beautiful girl has to have a hot gay guy on her arm’. And he loves to tell me that he is mine, and no one else can have me. He makes me laugh like no one else with his floppy blonde hair and cute pretty boy face. People always mistake us for a couple on nights out, probably because we are usually draped all over each other, dancing disgracefully or declaring undying love for each other after a few glasses. You know if he wasn’t gay he would be my ideal man, he loves empowering women and he has built me up from the gutter since that day I rang Robyn with nowhere to go.

  “Baby girl I never liked that twat from day one and his hair looked like a frikkin piece of Lego, you were way too good for him. What was he thinking anway? A four out of ten with a ten, he was punching well above his weight….” were just a few of the motivational phrases he fed me on a daily basis until I turned around and said, “You know what, fuck him. He has taken up enough time in my life, I just want to have fun and be me now.”

  “That’s my girl!” he’d say with a flick and a click of his wrist.

  Chris lived a bus ride away in a shared house in the city, close to us but not close enough. So most nights he slept on our sofa or one of us would let him sleep in with us. He hated his housemates, and I couldn’t blame him they sounded like morons. Playing death metal at all hours, or smoking weed and leaving mess everywhere they went. Chris was a neat freak, so he came round to ours, where it smelt fresh and girlie, and he cleaned our apartment in payment for his nights with us.

  His role in my life didn’t end there though, oh no Chris truly was a friend in need. Not only did he pick me up spiritually, mentally and socially but also financially. Chris worked in a small but up and coming advertising agency in the city. Once I was settled into the apartment he organised a meeting for me with one of the owners and exactly a week after that I started working in the same advertising agency as Chris, doing what I loved with the nicest, kindest people I had met in a long time.

  Yes, life was on the up and nothing or no man was going to bring it down. Days were spent working and learning more about my chosen field with my best friend; nights I was at home drinking wine and laughing like I had not a care in the world. On the weekends and maybe the occasional week night if there was a good gig on, I’d find myself in a city of dancing, drinking, partying and socialising that I never thought I would ever be a part of.

  Sure I still had times where I missed the warmth of a man’s body in the bed next to me, someone to hold my hand when I felt low or hug me to tell me everything would be okay. But I never missed Adam, I never wanted to see Adam Booth again for as long as I lived.

  I’d heard through mutual friends that he had been seen out with a variety of women. The split didn’t affect him at all, except for his laundry and household chores suffering I’ve no doubt. However, picturing him with other women didn’t bother me like I thought it would. Did that mean I’d never really loved him? Maybe I hadn’t, maybe it was just teenage lust followed by the comfort of what I knew and being too afraid to go it alone. He’d been safe and secure at a time when I wanted an anchor to steady my life. Shame that anchor turned into a blooming anvil crushing my life.

  Chapter Three

  “Hey baby girl, give us a look at what you wearing!” Chris poked his head around my bedroom door looking primped, preened and perfectly lush with his blonde hair slicked back. He was tanned with his skin literally glowing and wearing a pink shirt, opened half way down to his chest to show a smattering of chest hair and paired with the skinniest jeans I’d ever seen a grown man wear.

  “If you turn up in that towel number you’ll have them all falling at your feet!” He joked.

  “You’re so funny.” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I don’t know Chris, I think I might just go with the brown shift dress I brought the other day.”

  I was rubbish at putting outfits together.

  “Are you kidding me right now? That is a work outfit, no, no way and nadda. You are not going out like that girlfriend. You are 24 years old Ella not 64, live a little. Let’s have a look in your wardrobe and see what Uncle Chrissy can magic together.”

  I was so pleased he said that because I just knew he’d pull together something sensational, he always did.

  Chris marched into my room like a man on a mission. The towels around my body and head didn’t faze him, he was going to be my fairy gaymother and transform me into a club worthy diva fit to walk in on his stylish arm, and no
one or nothing was getting in his way. He delved into my wardrobe like a kid searching through a candy box for his favourite treat, pushing outfits aside with a look of disgust on his face and making the odd groan or moan. Great, I didn’t think my style was quite that bad.

  “Stop right there and call the cops, you are going to be stealing hearts all over the city tonight when you show up in this….”

  Chris pulled out a miniscule piece of red satin that dared to call itself a dress. I’d even forgotten it was in there, how did he find that? We’d been out day-time drinking a few weeks ago and made the fatal mistake of wandering into Harvey Nicks. A whole head full of wine and false bravado and I brought the ridiculous and well over priced dress convinced that yes I could carry it off, I was a new woman with confidence and sass. The next morning after the buzz had died and the head ache taken its place I had taken one look at that dress and vowed I would never drunk shop again. What was I thinking? It was a halter neck satin number, with two strips that fell down over my boobs, leaving my whole chest, shoulders and belly button exposed. It was backless and very sexy but so not me. I couldn’t carry it off. It was short, sassy and with my history of clumsiness, a disaster waiting to happen.

  “Chris I can’t wear that, it’s just too much…well not enough actually. I’ll look like a hooker and not a classy one.”

  “Will you just shut up, you can wear the ass off this dress. Babes let me style you and I promise I will make you look sensational. If you hate it when I’m done we’ll find another outfit but please give it a go. I’ll keep it classy.”

  Chris put his hands together in mock prayer and started pursing his lips and doing cute puppy dog impressions which he knew I was a sucker for. Plus how could I pass up a chance for Chris to style me and do my hair? He was master of the blow-dry in our house.

  “Fine. Have fun playing dress up with me but I swear to you now I am not leaving this house with that dress on.”