Page 90 of Whispers of Obsession

Words fail me as I hold him, not knowing what to say or do.

“I’m sorry, Slater,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I had to do it, to protect you. I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”

He says nothing, just looking into my eyes, his gaze softening, the fear replaced by understanding.

We sit there for a long moment, my arms wrapped around him tightly, his body shaking with emotion. I feel his tears falling on my shoulder, and I realize that we are both broken from our own battles, but we are also stronger together.

Slater finally pulls away from me, his face still etched with pain, but there are the first hints of life returning to his eyes.

Heather’s lifeless body lies at our feet, but all I can do is hold Slater. Instinctively I know today was not a one-off, and I’m taken back to the night of Slater’s birthday, his reaction to Heather’s hug and touches. I feel sick, but at least he’s finally been set free from his tormentor. There’s no turning back now.

I know I’ve taken a life, but I can’t focus on that right now. I need time to process everything that has happened in the last two days, and I know it will come soon enough. For now, I just need to help Slater. He’s still visibly shaken, traumatized even, and I know I have to be strong for him.

“Slater, we need to leave,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We can’t stay here, and we definitely can’t call the police. They’ll know what happened, and they’ll be looking for me.”

Slater nods, his eyes still locked on mine. He knows we have no other choice.

“Where are your clothes?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll run up to your room and get you some,” I tell him, but his arms tighten around me before I can pull away. This time his head shaking is frantic, desperate almost.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here, go upstairs together, and get you some clothes.”

Slater nods and together we make our way up the stairs, Slater clinging to me like he’s scared of being left alone. I take him up to his old bedroom and find some sweats and a T-shirt in the drawers, passing them to him to put on while I hunt for some shoes.

When I locate some trainers and turn back to him, he’s still sitting on the bed, not having moved.

“Slater, I’m going to dress you, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, so I carefully pull the T-shirt over his head and help him guide his arms through the holes. I sink to myknees with the sweatpants in hand and slip them on. I try so hard not to touch him, but as I’m pulling them up, my hands graze his thighs and he winces and hisses. It hurts that he’s adverse to my touch, but I understand why. I raise the sweats as high as I can and leave them to put on the shoes instead. Once he’s ready, he stands, and I pull the sweats up the rest of the way.

Slater’s almost catatonic as we make our way down the stairs, his eyes fixed on the ground, his face a mask of grief and horror. I keep a hand on his shoulder, offering what little support I can, but it’s clear that he’s lost in his own world right now, reliving the horrors of his past.

We exit the house as quietly as possible, pulling the front door closed behind us. The air is cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the chaos we’ve just left behind. I lead us to my mom’s car, hoping that I can get Slater to safety and away from everything that’s happened here.

Inside the car, Slater sits silently, his hands clenched tightly on his knees. I start the engine and pull out onto the road, driving quickly but carefully, trying to avoid attracting attention.

As we get further away from Sean’s house, I can feel Slater slowly coming back to himself. He’s still shaken, but at least he’s no longer a shell of himself. We drive for what feels like hours, neither of us speaking, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, I turn to him, trying to gauge his thoughts. “Slater, where do you want to go? Do you have any friends? Anyone you can stay with?”

He looks at me, his eyes haunted but alive, and finally speaks. “Are you okay?” Slater asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

He’s just been through Christ knows what and he’s asking ifI’mokay?

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just…want to get you away from here and never come back.”

Slater nods and I sigh, blowing out my stress.

“I don’t know the first thing about cleaning up a dead body. Wh-what am I going to do?”

I’ve tried so hard to be strong, to focus on Slater and saving him, but now that he’s away from there, reality is coming crashing down full force and suddenly I’m shaking and crying, and I can’t breathe. I’m going to go to prison for killing a woman. I don’t regret stabbing her, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but— “Oh, fuck.”

I pull over and Slater reaches over to gently places a hand on my shoulder. His touch is soothing in its warmth and solidarity.

“It’s okay,” he reassures me, his voice soft and comforting. “We’ll figure it out. You did what you had to do to protect me. And Cora…I’m so fucking grateful.”

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