Page 22 of Distorted Obsession

I’m free. For just a moment, I can finally breathe. But it doesn’t last. I’m crashing back into reality before I can pump the brakes.

“No,” I growl, furious at how short my escape was.

Why isn’t it ever enough?

My eyes pop open, peering down. There’s barely any blood.I just didn’t go deep enough.

Gripping the razor, I press down harder, slicing through one of my previous cuts. I watch, sucking in as the iron smell engulfs me, and I wait to be swept away.

What are you doing, Evie?

“Fah?” I call her name with the plea of a million lost souls.

“I didn’t fucking die for this,” she hisses.

Her rage slams into me with such force that my breath catches in my throat.

Dropping the blade, I tug at the invisible hands around my neck, desperate for air, until I realize it’s even quieter here. Not even Farrah can get in.

There’s no sound or light, just perfect calm. It’s a place where I can hide from all of my shame and guilt, boxing it away into a doorless and windowless space.

I’m sorry, Fah. I was never the strongest out of the two of us.

Murmurs flit about, threatening to crack the only strands of hope I have left.

“Fucking get someone,” a deep voice exclaims, but it’s too late. I want to laugh, feeling myself float away.

Then I’m gone.

9

cooper

There’s so much blood.

My gaze darts around the room, searching for first aid supplies. She panicked herself into unconsciousness. The stench of her despair coats the room, blanketing everything inside with a thick layer of grime.

“Rah, where are you? Didn’t you hear us call you?” I question, pushing her room door open when she remains silent. She probably has on her noise-cancellation earbuds.

“We need to—” I freeze, swallowing the remainder of my sentence as I take in the scene before me.

Slowly, my blurred vision comes into focus.

“You need to stay away from my sister.” I hear someone warn.

Where the fuck is that coming from?

“Stop calling her, you fucking stalker. I mean it.”

There’s a familiar timber to whoever is speaking, but recognition eludes me, stamped out by the pounding in my ears.

Farrah lies on her purple plush carpet peacefully. Her eyes shut as if she’s napping on the floor. Everything else comes rushing into me like a Mac truck barreling down Highway 95 with no brakes.

My nostrils flare, and my eyes widen in shock as I fail to react. There’s blood—so much blood you can taste the metal in the air.

“Rah?” I shout, closing the distance between us. “No… no… no… no… no.” Crimson saturates the carpeting like it’s sucking the life fource out of her.

“Here,” Colter huffs, ripping me from reliving the worst day of my life. He shoves the first aid kit into my side. “We need to move, Coop. Snap out of it.

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