Page 50 of Whispers of Obsession

My singular focus is on the fact that I can’t breathe. I claw at his wrists, and struggle for air. If he doesn’t release me, I’ll suffocate. He’s trying to kill me.

If I don’t get free, this man is going to kill me. I release his wrists and aim for his face. With every ounce of strength I possess, I dig my thumbs into his eyes.

The hands wrapped around my throat fall away, as the man that just tried to strangle me to death screams. I don’t let go. Not until he’s the one desperate to escape me.

I scratch, and claw, and then spin away, crawling to the door as I gasp for air. I cough around the ache in my throat, and reach for the lock.

As I tug the door open, I get to my feet, and stumble toward the classroom.

There’s a sense of relief that rushes through me when I see Mr. Marx behind his desk. When he sees me, he jumps to his feet, and rushes to me.

“Cora! What the fuck?” he shouts, as I finally relax. Unless this entire classroom full of people decides to conspire to murder me, I’m safe.

Slater said I could trust him. Even if I don’t trust Marx, I do trust my stepbrother.

The world goes black, but my last thought is that this never would have happened, if my masked man was here.

My head throbs,and I wince.

“Cora?” a deep voice murmurs softly, and I groan.

“Ouch,” I mumble, and attempt to blink my eyes open.

“Woah, lie back down.” A heavy hand presses my shoulder down. As I blink, Slater comes into view.

“What happened?” I feel like I was hit by a high speed moped.

“Steven attacked you. If he wasn’t in police custody right now, he’d already be dead,” Slater growls. “Marx found him screaming on the bathroom floor. You might have blinded him, little sister.”

“Good. He tried to fucking kill me,” I hiss. Looking around, I realize I’m in a hospital bed. “Where’s my mom?” I ask, and Slater sighs.

“I haven’t called her yet. Listen, the cops will want a statement from you, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay first. Do you need anything?”

I shake my head.

For the next several hours, I answer question after question. And endure several tests and doctors’ visits. By the time they’re ready to release me, I’m exhausted and bruised.

We never call my mom. I was worried she’d freak out, and at this point, that wouldn’t be helpful anyway.

“I’m sleeping in your bed tonight,” Slater announces, as he helps me into my house.

“No, that won’t be ne—” I start to argue, but the rumble Slater lets out has me shutting up. “Fine.”

“You’ll have to tell your mother what happened eventually,” he adds, as I take every step slowly. My body aches all over, which I initially thought was odd, but I guess it makes sense. I fought that bastard off with all I have.

“You don’t need to remind me. I’ll tell her. Tomorrow. Probably,” I grumble. Honestly, if I could, I’d never say a word to her. She already worries about me enough as it is.

“You need to shower.” Slater switches conversations so fast, I get whiplash.

“Okay,” I agree flatly, not in the mood to argue.

As he helps me into the bathroom, I move to shut the door, but Slater pushes into the room beside me.

“Slater!” I yelp, trying to push him out.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight for even a second, you’re wrong.” The look in his eyes tells me he means every word. He’s not going to give me any privacy.

“Can you at least turn around?” I ask, but Slater scoffs.

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