Page 102 of Whispers of Obsession

I’m not ready for that. I’m not strong enough.

I can handle what the masked man does to me. I welcome it, even. But from my ex-stepfather?

Never.

I’d sooner die than submit to him.

The thought of him touching me sends me spiraling, and it’s another three days before I’m able to function.

Slater never checks in on me once.

Slater, please come home. I can’t do this anymore.

Please.

Just let me know you’re okay. I’m going out of my mind with worry.

I’m going to head back to my dorm room tonight.

I’m sorry.

Slater

I’ll be back after class. Stay where you are. We can talk, but I have work later.

Okay. Thank you. Thank you. I’m so, so sorry. Thank you for giving me a chance.

No reply comes through though.

Sighing, I stow my phone away and set to sorting myself out. The house was tidy, but another three days of barely functioning means I need to clean up again. I also really need a shower. Maybe I could cook something nice for Slater, and we could talk over dinner. That might make things less awkward. It’ll be good to have a distraction to hide behind, right?

With a tired sigh, I survey the mess around me - the remnants of my disordered life now littering the apartment. It’s time to clean up and put things back together, or so I thought for a split second. But the fact remains - I’ve broken Slater’s trust beyond repair. There’s no going back from this.

As the day wears on, I find myself unable to concentrate on anything. My mind is completely consumed with thoughts ofSlater, the masked man, Sean, Heather, even my mom, and the guilt that weighs heavily on my shoulders. With each passing moment, it becomes harder to imagine a future where Slater will ever be able to forgive me. But, I have to try.

I force myself to focus on the task at hand, cleaning the dishes, sweeping the floors, and washing the bedsheets again. I’m determined to make the apartment as presentable as possible for Slater’s return. By the time I’m finished, I feel slightly more at ease, but the knot in my stomach remains. I know that this is only the beginning of the long road ahead.

With the sun starting to set, I decided to cook a meal for Slater and myself. As I chop the vegetables and season the meat, my mind wanders, painting a picture of what our lives together could have looked like - before everything went wrong. How had we gotten here? So disjointed and fragmented when everything should still be shiny and new and blissful?

What does our future hold?

Questions and regrets swirl round and round my head as I take a shower and get ready for Slater’s arrival. I dress nicely, but don’t dressup.I’m not trying to seduce him or show him what he’s missing. I just want a little armor to steel me as I try to fix things between us.

As I light the candles and set the table, there’s a mixture of hope and dread coursing through me. Hope that we can somehow make it through this, and dread knowing that whatever comes next, it won’t be easy.

Every minute feels like hours as I wait for Slater to arrive. My heart races with anticipation, but my anxiety grows with each tick of the clock. I try to distract myself by cleaning up the last remaining clutter, but it’s no use. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to face the consequences of my actions.

Finally, the sound of the door unlocking, and the familiar creak of the hallway floorboards echoes through the apartmentfollowed by the thud of a bag being dropped heavily on the floor. My heart sinks as I can sense his frustration, anger, and sadness in that one simple step he takes.

With trembling hands, I turn and face him. “Slater, I’m so, so sorry.” My voice falters, and I’m not sure if he can even hear me.

I can see the pain and betrayal in his eyes, and I know he’s not ready to forgive me yet.

“You manipulated me,” he says in a low, level tone that’s so devoid of emotion, it has me despairing that it’s already too late for us.

I nod, unable to look away from his anguished expression. “I manipulated you. I’m so sorry, Slater. I don’t even know why I did it. I just remember being so desperate to know that we’re okay, and then...I woke up the next morning and realized what I’d done.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, his face a mix of emotions I can’t begin to understand.

---