Page 45 of Distorted Obsession

“All of the above, Coop. The answer is all of the above,” Colter growls.

I’m sure there should be some sympathy for Portia being beaten, but I can’t find even a mustard seed of it. Instead, the call for her death multiplies infinitely.

Colter and I finish watching the footage, notating Thad’s and Portia’s every movement throughout our condo.

Slipping my phone from my pocket, I make a call.

“Coop?” I hear the question in his tone. “Didn’t Lev just leave you two? Don’t tell me you mucked it all up already?” he quips.

Too angry to joke, I retort, “Do you and Owen want to play a game?”

Because someone needs to pay, and we have questions that need to be answered.

The line is quiet, but I know I have him. It’s been a while since we’ve initiated a game.

“Time and location?” he asks, amusement infused into his response.

Smiling, I reply, “Tomorrow night.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Oh, and Wyatt, we’re going to play with our food first,” I blurt. He’s cackling down the line as I end the call.

19

eva

“Eva,it’s so good to see you again,” Dr. Singh greets me with a warm smile.

I return one of my own. “It has been a while since we last spoke. A lot of big things were happening.”

She beams at this reminder. “That’s right. You started college. How have the first few weeks gone?” she probes.

Pausing, I try to answer her loaded question without triggering a visit from her mobile crisis team. I can’t be pulled from school. The last time I left, I returned to a dead best friend and a broken relationship with one of the people closest to me besides Farrah.Callum.

My heart clenches. I haven’t spoken to my brother in quite some time, which is wildly different from our multiple times-a-day communication style.

He still reaches out.

I just don’t respond.

“Eva?”

Dr. Singh’s soothing voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“It’s been…” I still don’t have the right words.

“Eva, you know there’s no right way to get the words out,” she assures me, but I believe that’s untrue.

I begin to wring my wrist.

You can’t tell her about the pig’s blood, or the nightmares, or the voices, and sure as shit can’t tell her about how I’ve been dealing with all of it.

“You’re in your head, Eva. Focus on the sound of my voice,” she coaxes, but I can’t.

My nails dig into the flesh of my wrist, and the burn is the first thing that finally grounds me. So, I dig even deeper. The kiss pain wraps me in its deceptively loving embrace, and I hum my relief, welcoming its faux sincerity.

I thought scheduling this telehealth visit would be what I needed, but it’s just adding fuel to an already roaring wildfire.

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