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Object of Obsession	By : Demona_Andariel Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 1807 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Halloween movie series, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
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The ticking of his watch was incredibly loud, filling in the silence. It was dark, just a little bit too early for the morning sun to peek through. Jethro stared ahead. His left hand slowly rubbed his bottom lip while his right hand tapped on his glass desk. His eyes were unfocused in the direction of the far wall that held a bookcase filled with books. Big thick fancy law books to impress his clients. As if he even opened a single one to read them. He had people to do the research for him if he needed it. The perks of owning his own law firm.
He was the current owner of the nearly two-hundred-year-old family law firm and quite possibly the last. Neither Gretchen nor his son, Nathan, were interested in becoming a lawyer in the slightest. Jethro sighed. The family’s occupation was going to shift. Nathan was far more interested in solving mysteries, doing his best to become a private investigator. He wasn’t particularly good at it, but he was still very new and inexperienced. What he was good at was making friends, and gaining connections. His partying lifestyle helped him with that. Even though Jethro was of the opinion that Nathan was getting too old to be partying, he didn’t cut his son off from the family money. Building a new business took time and money. And there was no reason to horde the family fortune. There were only three of them left, after all, in the immediate family. Oddly enough, despite his son’s lifestyle, he had yet to produce a bastard child.
Gretchen, on the other hand, was an artist. Almost the complete opposite of Nathan when it came to a social life. She was perfectly content with her solitary lifestyle and living off of her inheritance, practically becoming a hermit. He couldn’t blame her. Her childhood did not give her the tools necessary to pick up the ability to make real friends. Trust didn’t come easy to her. Not that he could blame her.
Her school attendance was poor due to health reasons, meaning, she was unable to cultivate strong lasting friendships. And then there were her interactions with people in general. She didn’t have a filter back then. Telling everyone the things she saw when she saw them. She learned very quickly, the strange and unknown always alarmed adults which in turn they passed to their children. Even her parents, much to his own frustration, didn’t like her strangeness. They knew better.
So she, unfortunately, learned to keep things to herself, which in turn slowly shifted into embracing denial when it was convenient for her. It did make it easier for her to adapt to new circumstances.
She trusted him. But of course, she did. He was always there for her, always by her side, always positive, never judging, from the moment she was old enough to talk. He made sure that she felt safe around him. That she knew she could tell him anything, even when her father actively tried to discourage her “imagination”. He tried to discourage Jethro as well.
The problem was, she needed someone to talk to. So he made sure it was him. She used to speak to him at length about the things she saw, asking questions, looking for clues, and answers. Answers he couldn’t give her. But he tried to help her when it was possible.
But he was a fool, an idiot. He should have, he did know better. It was why he had people, Nathan, looking after her in the first place. Why he made sure to call her at least once a week. Because, despite all of his efforts, he knew, in the back of his mind, that she didn’t fully trust him. It wasn’t that she trusted Nathan any more than him. It was that Nathan was determined to keep her safe. They both failed.
Nathan. His heart thumped harder in his chest for a moment before he calmed himself down.
It was unimportant how she’d done it. As much as he was curious to know. How had she manage to get a job, earn money from under his nose to sneak off and move like she had? It couldn’t have been something traditional. She wasn’t good around people. Unless she was and lied to him about that too. No, she omitted things when they were convenient for her, but she wasn’t much of a liar. Had she sold her drawings? It was possible. She’d learned to draw at a young age and had gotten pretty good at it.
Whatever the case was, she had done it. She’d made money to secretly fund her temporary escape.
He smirked, shaking his head. So much like his little brother. Haring off without a word to anyone. Their parents would have had a conniption, had they been alive when Jasmina’s pregnancy was found out. Good, select, careful breeding had been the one thing that followed the family even into the modern time. The right family, the right career, the right partner to continue the line.
He snorted. Only for their youngest, and arguably favorite child, to fuck the secretary and get her pregnant. A no-named, no family, nothing to offer, illegal immigrant.
He had hired her because he liked her. She was a very beautiful woman to look at. To say that his brother stole her out from under him would be an outright lie. He knew his personality. He wasn’t an easy person to warm up to. Whereas his brother was very easy-going and friendly. But he didn’t have the family weight on him. The weight that he’d become the head of the household one day, that he had to look and act the part.
Jethro sighed.
How Gretchen reminded him so much of two of the most important people in his life. Physically, Gretchen looked so much like her mother. Her darker complexion and long big curly dark brown hair as well as her shapely body. But her hazel eyes and slightly taller build were part of his side of the family and that smile was for sure his brother’s. She was both a boon and a curse.
Would his brother have even turned to Jasmina had their parents not died? Life was strange, how seemingly random events knitted together into life-altering consequences. Had their father never died of cancer, their mother wouldn’t have killed herself from a broken heart. Then his brother probably wouldn’t have found himself inside Jasmina’s arms. She never would have gotten pregnant with Gretchen. Jasmina and his brother wouldn’t have eventually died the way they did before Gretchen’s fifteenth birthday. And he wouldn’t be sitting at his desk before the morning sun rose, pondering life and feeling ultimately helpless.
Jethro picked up the family photo he had on his desk of his brother, Jasmina, five-year-old Gretchen, himself, and nine-year-old Nathan, all dressed fancy for the extended family Christmas party that was hosted in Northern Ireland. An event that happened every decade. An event they would have gone to before-
He inhaled deeply. If only he’d gotten there sooner. He should have known.
He shook his head, clearing his mind. “Ifs” and “what ifs” and regrets were useless and a waste of thinking energy. Life had happened the way it did. He couldn’t go back and change things. All he could do was follow the path laid before him and do what needed to be done.
A knock on the door brought him out of his musings. He turned and glanced out of his window. The skies were getting lighter.
“Come in,” he said as he turned his chair back to face the door, setting the picture back down. He folded his hands in front of him.
“Hey, Jethro,” Dr. Clark Mitchell, a distant cousin of his and one of his closest friends, said as he opened the door and closed it behind him.
Jethro didn’t say a word as he watched the man walk up to him. Clark frowned as he sat down.
“It’s a little bit early to be having a drink, isn’t it?” he asked, nodding towards the glass of rum that Jethro had poured himself some hours ago. He’d forgotten about his drink.
Jethro didn’t reply immediately as he swirled his chair to look out the large window again. This time, he looked out at the city. He rather liked his view, just the perfect height. He heard Clark shift his weight in nervousness. Good.
“When were you going to tell me you upped the dosage of her pills?” Jethro asked calmly. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Clark had paled.
“Look, Jethro,” Clark started to make an excuse.
Jethro stood up and walked over to the bookshelves. He opened a drawer and pulled out the completely full bottle of pills and tossed them at Clark.
“Shit,” Clark replied the moment he caught them. “How long and where is she? I’ll-”
“She’s missing,” Jethro said, studying his friend.
“Missing? Or ~missing~?” Clark asked.
“Answer my question, Clark,” Jethro said, his voice steady, but the demand was there. Foolish man.
Clark let out a loud sigh, setting the bottle on the desk. “The set before this one.”
“Three months ago,” Jethro stated. Clark nodded. Jethro’s eyes narrowed as he stormed over to the doctor. “Why? And were you ever going to tell me?” It was difficult, controlling his temper. He wanted to punch the man.
Clark shrank back for a moment before squaring his shoulders. “Were you ever going to tell me she still saw things?” Clark accused. “She came to see me just over three months ago before I put her on the new dosage. She got that glazed look. When I asked what she saw she quickly clammed up. So, Jethro, how long has she been seeing things?”
“What did she say?” Jethro asked.
Clark shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t remember anymore,” he said. “It wasn’t important. A name I think. She looked,” he paused then sighed. “Happy. But, you know.” He shrugged his shoulders again.
Jethro picked up the bottle, turning it over in his hand. He frowned. “Why did she see you three months ago?”
Clark’s eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head. “I really shouldn’t-”
“You shouldn’t have upped her dosage either,” Jethro snapped.
Clark looked around then ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Birth control and she had questions about the pills.”
Birth control. Jethro felt his world tilt slightly. “What did you say?”
“Oh, you know. How she needs them. I told her that I would lower the dosage, see if that worked for her. But it would be a gradual thing.”
Jethro shook his head. “With the dosage, she was at, Clark, if she stopped taking them it would be a while before it really got to her. Like last time. You doubled it. She’s been taking the new ones for three months? So, if she stopped taking her pills, went cold turkey, how long would it take for her mind to break? It’s not going to be gradual, we’re in a very limited window right now.”
“Fuck,” Clark growled. He turned away and paced for a moment. He glanced over a Jethro. “Two weeks, at best,” he finally said. “How long has it been?”
Jethro turned, clenching his fists tightly. “I’m not sure. I’m guessing around a week at most.”
“Do you have any idea where she’s at? I guess I could reach out to my contacts, see if she’s in a hospital somewhere-”
“She’s not,” Jethro interrupted. “I’ve checked. Well, I am checking. She hasn’t come up yet.”
“Shit,” Clark said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I meant to tell you. I thought it was for the best. I remember how she was as a kid and when she mentioned seeing things I-”
“She never stopped seeing things, Clark,” Jethro interrupted with a sigh. He’d fucked up. He should have told Clark so the man wouldn’t worry about it. But he didn’t want to. He thought it was better that only he, Nathan, and Gretchen were aware she still saw things.
“You should have told me,” Clark snapped.
Jethro nodded his head. “Yes, I know. But you shouldn’t have raised her dosage without consulting me. And you told her you lowered it? Jesus! She could be thinking it’s alright that she ran out of her pills.”
Clark stood up and paced. “I should have, but I didn’t,” he finally said. “What are we going to do about it?”
“You’re fired,” Jethro stated.
Clark stopped, his face going pale again as his mouth dropped in surprise. “What? Jethro! You can’t-”
“I can’t trust you anymore. You should have kept her on the same dosage. You know she hates taking them. And you know what happened last time she stopped.” Jethro looked to one side for a moment, pushing back the fear, the panic that he felt that night. It had been a couple of years ago but still felt so fresh. His mind played dirty, bringing back his son’s terrified screams and the smell of blood. She didn’t remember, and he, like Nathan, wanted to keep it that way. She wouldn’t handle it well.“But you didn’t say anything to me or to her. You did this on your own.”
Clark looked away, clenching his fists. “I was just trying to help, Jethro,” he finally said.
Jethro exhaled. He let the stillness collect between the two. Clark wasn’t excused yet and he knew it.
“Birth control?” Jethro finally asked, breaking the silence.
Clark shifted uncomfortably again. “The conversation was more around safe sex. But birth control did come up.”
Jethro frowned, tapping the pill bottle. “She knows,” he paused. “She knows, she can’t get pregnant,” he finally stated.
Clark nodded. “I reminded her. Told her condoms would be the best method for safe sex, but she didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant, just in case she decided to not use them. Look, Jethro,” Clark added. “I’m sorry. I should have said something.”
Jethro nodded, but his mind was already somewhere else. “I know,” he said dismissively.
Clark opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it, shaking his head. He turned and walked towards the office door.
“Hey, Clark?” Jethro asked as his old friend opened the door to leave. “You’re friends with a Dr. Samuel Loomis, correct?”
Clark turned, giving him a confused look. “The psychiatrist? Yes,” he responded when Jethro nodded. “Why?”
“I heard he was a good child’s psychiatrist. I wanted to get his opinion on a few things. Get a hold of him for me. I’ll pay him whatever he wants.”
Clark’s frown didn’t leave his face, but he nodded. “Alright,” he said slowly. “He’s not practicing anymore. You do know how old he is?”
Jethro shrugged. “I’m not asking him to see a kid or to be his patient.” Jethro could see the need to question his request. He turned his back to his friend and returned to his desk chair, indicating that the conversation was over. He sat down, picking up his glass he swirled around to face the window and watch the brightening morning sky. He didn’t turn around, not even when he heard the door close.
He moved his hand behind him to pick up his cellphone. He stared at it, half tempted to call his son, despite the early hour. His watch on his wrist ticked loudly in his ear again. There wasn’t a lot of time left. Not a lot of time left at all.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Object of Obsession