Page 23 of Distorted Obsession

Nodding, I move on autopilot, kneeling on Eva’s bed. I fix her towel to cover while I attend to her self-inflicted wounds.

“How the fuck didn’t we know she’s a cutter?” I seethe, wiping the blood from her hip.

My hands glide over the other lines, more silvery than the rest of her complexion. She looks angelic like this, almost like the girl we used to know. The one who would’ve conquered worlds to protect my sister.

“Stop ogling her, and get your ass in gear before her roommates return,” Colter demands, breaking the spell.

Standing, I take one last look before setting everything up. I almost feel bad for what we have planned for Eva Rose.

Our sister would traverse the heavens to hand us our heads. She wouldn’t want any of this—it’s not who she was.

My jaw tenses at the reminder.Farrah is not here to have a say in the matter.If she were,none of this would be happening.

Spinning, I walk to the other side of her room and into her closet. Then I pull down her shoeboxes, taking time to purposely fuck with her shit. Smirking, I swap out one foot from each box and pocketing one black stiletto.

I wonder if she’s noticed all the subtle changes we’ve been making to her room.

As I reach to put everything back, my gaze lands on a book of some sort.

“Coop, we need to leave now,” Colter snarls.

“Impatient, much?” I retort while turning the boxes upside down and hiding the style information.

Perfect.

Then I snatch the book and tuck it into the pocket of my hoodie without examining it. I’ll do that back at the house.

“I swear if our faces weren’t an identical match, I wouldn’t believe we were or related,” he grunts as we both stride toward the front door.

The August air punches me in the face as we walk silently across campus to the parking lot—our hoodies hiding our faces. Neither of us speaks until we’re in the car.

“How did we miss this? I ask again when the purr of the engine comes to life.

“Fuck if I know, we checked all her files. She’s never had an issue like this before,” Colter replies.

The mention of Eva’s records gives me pause. It could be a newly acquired destructive coping mechanism to stave off her guilt.

But the lines on her skin. Some of them healed so well that they almost blended back in.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Colter adds. “The endgame for us is still the same.”

Doubt curdles in my stomach for the first time since we engineered this plan almost two and a half years ago. Not once did I hesitate in the months of planning and positioning pieces exactly where they needed to be.

“I know that look, Coop. We’re not backing down. So what if she feels guilty—she should. You remember the recording.”

Anger heats my skin—the hair on my arms stands like it fears being singed.The fucking recording.

Callum Pierce’s sharp words fileted the portions of my sister’s heart that she hid from us all. I still don’t understand what he gained from his words. There should’ve been another way to get his point across.

Frustrated, I slam the car into park, disregarding how Colter’s body jerks forward from the abrupt stop. It’s not as if we don’t know Callum—our families are…were…arevery close.

Both our mothers came to the States to attend university together. It was the only way our grandparents would have approved. So, Callum and Eva weren’t strangers—they were family, which is why their betrayal festers like an open wound in the desert sun.

Colter, Lev, and I combed over the recording to find even a hint of doctoring, but there was none. Combine that with the text messages and voicemails from Callum to Farrah, there was no doubt in Callum’s part in our sister’s death.

We sit in the car, brooding, neither of us making any effort to get out—both of us lost in the depths of our thoughts. I still can’t reconcile the guy we looked up to as kids with the coldhearted asshat that pushed our sister into ending her life.

Sighing, I massage the bridge of my nose, desperately wanting the image of Eva covered in blood to stop blurring with the scene of my sister’s suicide.

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