Page 60 of Distorted Obsession

My shirt rides up, and reality punches me silent.

I can’t let them see.

Shame at the still somewhat fresh cuts that will be exposed if this continues roils in my gut. All my joy ceases in this moment.

Choking on fear, my lips part, but no sound comes out—not even a whimper.

You should’ve known better than to try to be happy, Eva. You don’t get to be jovial—suffering is all you deserve until you draw your last breath.

My demons paralyze me. I’m stuck in purgatory with no angel to break me free.

This is to be your fate in this life and the next.

“Eva.” I hear someone call, off in the distance.

Images swirl on the periphery of my vision. Farrah’s in a pool of her blood—her neck unnaturally turned until the bones in her throat protrude from her pale skin.

Climbing from the tub, she crawls until she stops at my feet and stands. “This is your fault. You could’ve saved me, Evie Rose. Instead, you chose to leave me to die alone,” she snarls.

I flinch, shaking my vision clear. No, this can’t be my best friend. Her soul is a source of light.

“But it is me. You blackened my soul, and now my spirit can never find rest.”

“No, Farrah, I’m sorry,” I blubber as tears stream in rivulets down my face.

The tangy smell of blood is lost to the stench of decaying flesh.

“Eva!” They shout this time, but the barrier to me is too strong to penetrate.

“Now they get to see your dirty little secret,” Farrah snickers, her lifeless eyes freezing me in place.

Warm hands travel the expanse of my stomach.

Please don’t find it.

I beg any and every deity, knowing they won’t answer my prayers. I’ve been lost to them since the day Farrah died.

“Evie,” the angry shout crashes like a wrecking ball, breaking me from my internal prison.

Gasping, I suck in lungfuls of air.

Fuck. I must have been holding my breath again. Only this time, there was no euphoria–only pain. It takes me a moment before my heaving breaths settle, allowing my breathing to even out. Then my vision blurs before two faces come into focus. Two sets of concerned blue eyes register.

“What happened?” Cooper coaxes. “You were here and then?—”

I inhale, taking in my surroundings. I’m in their room. My head is resting on a soft pillow as I grip the slate gray comforter. “I-I-I—” The words refuse to pass my lips. I know what they saw. There’s no going back. Not many people know how I purge the pain from my soul—the destructive way in which I feel I can finally breathe again.

What do I say? How do I confess this?I will be destroyed by the disapproving, judgmental stares I know are coming—the endless questions about why I would ever think hurting myself is the solution.How the fuck am I supposed to face them after this?

“Talk to us, Evie,” Colter pleads. “You’re safe here.

Am I, though?

Colter holds my hand, squeezing it. “Evie Rose, you have nothing to fear here,” he adds, wiping my swollen eyes with a warm rag.

Peeking through my lashes, I see the sincerity in their word.Here goes nothing.

“I’m drowning,” I confess. “And I feel so fucking selfish for even confessing that, especially to the both of you.”

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